Page 17 of Taken Off Camera
“To me? Yes.” His hand lifts toward the screen, as if touching my cheek. “You’re pale, except for two spots of color high on your cheeks. Your voice is strained. And your eyes are unfocused.”
The water slips down my throat, offeringmomentary relief from the burning inside. “Observant as always.”
“It’s my job to pick up on details.” His hand falls away. “Are you unwell, Elliot?”
My mouth opens to deny it, but I can’t bring myself to lie. “It’s nothing serious. A cold, maybe. I took some medicine before you called.”
“You should be resting,” he chastises. “Not entertaining me.”
“This isn’t entertainment.” The words escape before I can filter them. “I wanted to talk to you.”
A beat of silence follows, filled with meanings neither of us acknowledge.
“Did you eat before taking your medicine?” he asks finally.
I curl one leg up onto the chair to hug my knee. “I had some leftover pad Thai before the stream.”
“Soup with ginger would be better. That’s what I always eat when I’m sick.”
Warmth unfurls in my chest. I live for these little tidbits about his life that hint at the kind of loving home I only ever watched on television.
“Tell me about your day,” I suggest, desperate to shift attention away from my condition.
GentlemanX tilts his head, the movement bringing his collar bone into frame. “Meetings. Phonecalls. A minor security breach that required my attention.”
“Anything exciting?”
“Nothing worth sharing.” His fingers tap an idle rhythm on the table’s edge. “Though my brother and cousins continue to be sources of entertainment.”
Over months of conversations, he’s spoken about how the confirmed bachelors in his family have fallen one by one into mate bonds.
“You’re going to be an uncle soon, right?” I ask, attempting to uphold my side of the conversation.
“In just a few weeks now.” He adjusts his position again, leaning closer to the camera. “You’re shivering.”
I hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it, but now I feel the tremors running through my body. My teeth nearly chatter as I respond, “The air conditioning. It’s nothing.”
“Elliot.” The easy rhythm of his speech falters with concern. “How long have you been ill?”
“It’s nothing—” The denial crumbles as another shiver racks my frame, strong enough that it rattles the table my shin rests against. “Since this afternoon. It came out of nowhere.”
“Have you taken your temperature?”
I avoid the camera, focusing instead on dabbing at the spilled water. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Answer the question.” The Alpha Command is subtle but undeniable.
“It was 101.4, a couple of hours ago.” The admission comes with reluctance. “It’s probably gone down since I took the medicine.”
His sigh fills my speakers, tinged with frustration. “And you still did your stream?”
The room tilts, and I drop my leg back to the floor for balance. “I need the money.”
“You should go to the hospital.”
I laugh, the sound bitter even to my own ears. “With what insurance? The urgent care clinic costs three hundred dollars just to walk through the door.”
“I can?—”
