Page 136 of Petite Fleur

It's been an entire week since my little incident that scared Leon so much that he felt the need to draw his name on me forever, an entire week where he has stayed home from work to take care of me and watch over me like a hawk.

He takes my temperature several times a day, rectally, might I add, and has done countless blood and urine samples.

If you looked up overprotective or obsessed in a dictionary, they'd say a common synonym is Leon.

I don't think he's let me get off the couch by myself the entire time, and it took several days of arguments for him to let me use the bathroom alone.

Still, it's nice to be considered and cared for.

Leon dropping off my samples to the lab is the only time he leaves my side, and honestly, I feel guilty about it.

I'm sure his patients need him much more than I do.

I feel okay enough to be left alone, but he's worried. He says it wasn't a heat stroke, but it almost was. He says I was right on the border between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. I understand his worry; it could have done permanent damage to my brain and my organs. And with my celiac, I already have a risk to a few of my organs. I don't need to put myself in further danger.

But I think a week of this is enough to resume our normal lives.

I still haven't told Leon about the fence being turned off; I'm scared he's going to think I know because I tried to run. I mean, technically, I did. I ran after the dog, but I came back.

I could have just as easily kept going and knocked on that house's door. I could've asked them to call the police and been done with Leon, but I didn't; I didn't want to.

I saw the house and just turned around and went back home.

Is this home?

Leon says this is my home, and honestly, it's starting to feel a little less like a prison and more like a home. Just like Leon feels less like my captor and more like my boyfriend.

I don't know, boyfriend feels a little light for whatever this is between us, but it's the only title that fits without a ring.

Leon comes up behind me on the couch and tugs on my ponytail until I tilt my head up toward him. He smiles down at me, his hand still in my hair. “How are you feeling, ma fleur? Do you need anything?” He asks me.

I don't think that I do, actually, but when he's being so caring and thoughtful like this, I feel so needy and clingy.

God, what is wrong with me?

Also, why am I complaining about it?

A super successful and very attractive man with more money than I've ever seen is trying to wait on me hand and foot.

There's nothing to complain about besides this collar. Well, that's not even a factor anymore if the collar doesn't work or he forgot to turn the fence back on. "Can I tell you something without you being upset with me?" I ask nervously.

He raises an eyebrow at me but nods. "Of course. Is everything alright?" He asks me.

He rounds the couch, sitting beside me and taking one of my hands into his. I feel the callus of his hand when he strokes my skin. His rough hand and my soft hand just seem to contrast perfectly, but will I still get this level of compassion and careif I tell him about the fence? Or will I be brought down to the basement for a whole different reason?

Nope, I can't tell him. Not yet.

Leon squeezes my hand, reminding me that I haven't said anything after asking if I could talk to him. Crap, make up a lie. Well, no, not a lie. Just a different confession. Easy enough.

"I'm scared you're going to kill me if I don't give you a baby." I admit.

I don't miss the hurt look in his eyes, the one he schools his face and makes disappear just as quickly as it appeared.

I don't want the calculated and precise version of him that he shows the world. I want all of him, the unfiltered version that is only reserved for me.

"Come here." He says calmly. He lets go of my hand, making me miss his touch immediately, but he opens his arms for me instead.

I crawl over to him and into his embrace, letting him pull me into his lap.

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