DOMINIC
The last person I expected to see was the reason for my sleeplessness and obsession, standing before me, looking like a cat left in the rain. Her huge green eyes were filled with tears, gliding down her cheeks.
"Please, don't send me away," she whispered in a shaky voice.
I opened my mouth to assure her, but she stumbled forward, catching me off guard. She hit my chest and began to slide downward, and I clutched her waist to prevent that.
"Harper?" I murmured, staring at her pale face and closed eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
"Harper?!" I tried again, shaking her. However, she was unresponsive, and her head lolled.
Fuck. Did she just faint on me? I shut the door behind me as I moved her inside, laying her on the sofa—drenched and all.
I only cared about her well-being, not the condition of her clothes. I stared at her still form for a few seconds, wondering what to do with her. I had never had someone collapse before me. No, they do. Women. Lots of them.
How did I deal with that then? The problem was I didn't. I walked away, and they recovered as soon as I left. Magical right? Well, not really.
Those bitches were fakers. Manipulators who were sent to pretend to be into me so they could find dirt on me. Still, this was different. Harper wasn't any of them. At least, she didn't look like she'd be faking it. I placed the back of my palm on her forehead, and I retracted it immediately, wincing. Her temperature was warm.
"What do I do with you, Harper?" I mused, staring at her with wide eyes. Just then, my phone lit up, vibrating on the centre table. I leaned forward to look at it.
Richard Brown
My personal assistant. I swiped to answer, gluing the phone to my ear.
"Boss!" Richard said in a breathless whisper. I allowed him to speak for a while, rambling nonstop, and when he was done, I began.
"What do you do to someone who suddenly fainted at your doorstep and now her temperature is spiking faster than normal?"
There was a brief pause at the end of the line before Richard shouted in response.
"D…Did you kill someone?"
"I said she fainted, idiot," I muttered.
"Ah, yes." He said, as if he understood me clearly, until he spoke again. "Is she bleeding? Did you shoot her believing she was a prey?"
I pitched the bridge of my nose, groaning out loud. "Can you be serious right now?"
"I'm not a doctor, boss. You should call 911 if someone's life is in danger, and I don't think you should have someone unconscious in your house right now. You're still on the police radar and—"
"Bye," I ended the call, slipping the phone into my pocket. I locked back at Harper.
Perhaps asking Google would be better. Why did I think Richard would give me the response I needed? He was clueless most of the time, except when it came to work-related issues. Then he turns serious. I walked to the kitchen island, where my laptop was before Harper's arrival. I quickly type out the question:
How to revive and warm someone who fainted in the rain without looking like a creep?
I hit search, and several responses came up.
"If the person is breathing…" I paused, walking towards Harper, and placed a finger under her nostrils. I felt warm air, and that relaxed me slightly. I looked back at my laptop,
Loosen tight clothing and elevate their legs to restore blood flow.
My eyes flicked over Harper's long, creamy legs, moving up to the blue dress now clinging to her soft, feminine curve.
"Loosen clothes," I murmured, forcing back a swallow. "Elevate her legs?"
At what angle exactly? 90 degrees? 45 degrees or 15 degrees? She fainted and was not a gymnast! Why should I do something as weird as that?
"That doesn't sound right," I clenched my twitching fingers, barely paying attention to the dent forming in my pants.
I gazed down, seeing more suggestions.
If soaked, remove wet clothes and cover with a warm blanket.
"Who wrote this crap?" I grunted, shutting my laptop. Or maybe it was normal, and I was the problem. I had tried not to think about Harper—especially the idea of wanting to have her naked in my bed.
No. I wasn't a pervert. I had been with several women and never once had these nasty thoughts surfaced. I was a warm-blooded man who craved his nephew's ex like she was a damned drug I couldn't get out of my system. Just one kiss from her, and boom! All my self-control had shut off ever since.
Now, she was here looking vulnerable, and I was helpless to help her. Um. I wasn't helpless. My stupid, dirty mind wouldn't let me help her without making me thirst for her. But her situation could be worsening. Right? I opened my laptop once more and typed.
How long can someone be unconscious before it's serious?
More than a minute.
Fuck it.
I scooped her off the couch, striding towards my room. Her life was far more important than my selfish thoughts. I laid her on the bed, carefully stripping her out of her clothes, and tried to avoid looking and touching delicate areas. It was challenging. But I did eventually. When she was out of everything…totally naked, I draped the duvet over her form. Harper's lips parted, and she mumbled incoherently.
My phone buzzed once more, and I brought it out of my pocket to see Richard's name flashing on the screen. Again.
"Do I call an ambulance, sir?"
"She's not dead and is breathing fine."
"Then I suggest you prepare tea for her fever."
"Shut up, Richard." I let out.
"Yes, boss," he said. Only a brief second until he fired his next question. "Is it Miss Wilson?"
When I said nothing, he took that as a yes and continued. "What is she doing outside in this horrible weather? Do you think it has anything to do with her ex firing her?"
I supposed. But that didn't mean she didn't have anywhere to go. She had a family, wealthy, snake-like people. My two cents on them being the reason she was out here. Or maybe because of me. After all, the picture that was circulating on the internet right now was the one that someone had taken of her in my robe. I had cost her her job and family.
"Miss Wilson is one of the smartest in that company, and he's a fool to let her go. However, she's better off without him."
He was just like his father. They both never learn.
"Do you want me to ask Google if 'heartbreak can make someone go unconscious?'"
I rolled my eyes inwardly. "Are you done with your job?"
"No, sir."
"Then get off." I hung up for the second time.
Harper twisted and turned on the bed, her face pinched tight, and I saw tears leak out from the corner of her eyes.
"Help me. Please!" She sobbed quietly.
"What did they do to you, Harper Wilson?"