I Return To Find Her Body

It is basically a smaller version of a kitchen with a stovetop, microwave, kettle, sink and dishwasher. I find a can of chicken soup.

Perfect. Usually, I have a private air hostess who prepares meals when I'm travelling long distances. Otherwise, I make myself easy meals or wait until I land to get something to eat.

I ladle the soup into a small bowl knowing it is imperative for her to eat but being sick she probably wouldn't eat much. Placing the bowl onto a tray, along with a spoon, I return to find her body still cooler than when I'd initially noticed her temperature.

"Emmy, let's get some food into your stomach," I encourage her to sit up in the bed and perch beside her on the edge.

"I'm not hungry," she protests.

"You are. You just don't know it yet because you're feeling sick. Come on. You need food to keep your energy up. That's a good girl," I encourage her when she allows me to spoon soup into her mouth. "Come on, eat some more."

I keep encouraging her until she's eaten most of the content then I listen when she says she doesn't want anymore. I give her the painkillers to take and wipe her down again with tap water. When I finish cleaning up in the galley and return to her, she is barely warm and sleeping.

I stand there for a very long time watching her sleep and a feeling so intense came over me that I'm poleaxed by the force of it. I know at that minute there was no way I would let her walk away from me.

Not after today. Not after my hands have bathed her body, chasing away her fever. Not after holding her while she threw up.

I sit in the La-Z-Boy beside the bed, determined to keep vigil and ensure her fever doesn't get more intense again before we land. I feel a fierce protective instinct over her.

Emmy belongs to me.

"Prepare for landing."

My eyes fly open at the unfamiliar nasal voice over the speakers. Confused, I sit up in the bed, the sudden movement making me feel a little lightheaded. I try to figure out where I am but can't remember until I spot James, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He must have woken too by the voice of the pilot.

Everything comes to me then, of James holding me while I throw up, him stripping off my dress and giving me a sponge bath, feeding me. I clutch the covers to my chin, conscious that I am still semi-nude.

I might have not minded, caught up in the throes of illness but now I am not feeling so ill anymore, I am self-conscious.

"We're about to land," James murmured, running a hand over his face and through his hair to chase the sleep away. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," I reply, looking everywhere but at him. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Anytime. Come on, rules indicate we are buckled down for landing. We've got a few minutes so you'll have time to get dressed.

Before I can say anything, he plucks my dress from the bed beside me and drops it over my head. I feel like a child, holding the sheet alternatively with one hand while poking the other through the armholes in the dress.

He pulls the material down and urges me to stand which I do so the dress pool down my waist but not before he catches a glimpse of my black bikini briefs.

"You can get your shoes on when we're seated," he tells me and with a hand at my back guides me back to the front of the jet where we take the seats we had occupied earlier. We buckle up and just in time too as the pilot made the final descent. The landing is smooth and soon we stop.

"Here, let me do this for you."

I frown at him he lifts first one foot, placing it in his lap and putting on that shoe before repeating the action with my other foot. Is this some kind of ploy of his? What is he aiming for in being so nice to me all of a sudden?

This is the side he had shown to my friends but not a side he once show to me until I was ill.

At least he wasn't completely heartless.

"Come on, there's a limo waiting for us," he told me and prods me to my feet.

"My suitcases," I protest.

"Will be taken care of," he answers and guides me to the exit where the pilot is standing and smiling. The man tips his hat and wishes us a good day and I stammer a thank you before lengthening my strides to try and keep up with James.

I realize we aren't using the public section of the airport. A black limousine is indeed waiting for us and I hesitate a bit. He notices and takes hold of my hand so I have to keep walking or get dragged. He opens the door for me and I get in, once more finding myself in the backseat of a car with James.

"Where are we going?" I ask as the limousine drives from the airport.

"The office."

I stare at him in astonishment.

"Just kidding," he smirks. "It's called humour. You should try it sometime."

"Where are we going then?" I repeat my question.

He takes his time pouring two glasses of champagne from the complimentary bottle provided and hands one to me. I refuse to take it.

He frowns at me. "I think I like you better when you're sick. At least then you do as I say without questioning me. It's just champagne. If I wanted to have my wicked way with you, I would have done so when you were half-naked in the jet."

Trust him to remind me of that. I take…