Kael sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples as a dull throbbing pain settled in his skull. His head felt like it had been split open, and his mouth was dry as hell. He blinked a few times, trying to recall the events of the previous night, but everything was a haze of whiskey and exhaustion.
Esme.
His gaze flickered toward the other side of the bed. Empty.
Where was she?
Shaking off the thought, he tried to stand, only for the room to tilt slightly. He gritted his teeth, steadying himself before moving toward the closet. He needed to get to work. There was no time to waste on a damn hangover.
Just as he reached for a fresh shirt, a firm hand pressed against his chest, pushing him back.
"Sit."
Kael frowned, looking down to see Esme standing before him, her brows furrowed in determination.
"What are you doing?" His voice came out rough, hoarse.
"You're not going anywhere in this condition," Esme said, crossing her arms. "Sit back down."
Kael scoffed, attempting to move past her, but she held her ground. "I don't need to be taken care of, Esme. I'm fine."
"No, you're not." She pushed him again, this time with more force, and to his surprise, he actually let her.
Sighing, Kael sat on the bed, watching as Esme turned away. Moments later, she returned with a steaming cup in her hands.
"What's this?" he asked, eyeing the dark liquid with suspicion.
"Herbal tea. It'll help with your hangover," she said simply, handing him the cup.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "And why are you suddenly being so nice?"
Esme rolled her eyes. "Because I don't want you dropping dead from alcohol poisoning, obviously."
A smirk ghosted Kael's lips. "So you do care."
Esme let out an exasperated sigh. "Just drink it."
He held her gaze for a moment longer before taking the cup, bringing it to his lips. The bitter taste hit him instantly, making him grimace.
"Ugh. This is awful."
"You'll live," she said flatly.
Kael downed the rest of it with a slight wince, setting the cup aside. He expected her to leave after that, but instead, she walked back in with a tray of food. His brows lifted slightly as she set it in front of him—a full breakfast, clearly made from scratch.
"You cooked?"
"Don't sound so surprised."
Kael glanced at her, then down at the meal. He wasn't used to this—Esme, taking care of him. It felt strange. Suspicious, even.
"You sure you didn't poison this?" he teased.
Esme shot him a glare. "Eat or starve, Kael."
He chuckled under his breath, picking up his fork. As he took his first bite, he paused. It was… good.
Too good.
Kael slowly looked up at her. "You actually made this?"
Esme rolled her eyes. "Yes, Kael. I can cook."
Kael chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. "Not bad."
Esme arched a brow. "Not bad? That's all you have to say?"
"I mean, I wouldn't fire the chefs just yet," he mused, smirking as he took another bite.
She huffed. "Ungrateful bastard."
Kael chuckled, shaking his head. The tension between them was… different. Softer. He couldn't quite place it, but as he ate in silence, he found himself watching Esme more than he should have.
What the hell was she up to?
****. ****. ****.