The scent of something warm and familiar pulled me out of my fever-induced slumber. My body still ached, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, but the hunger gnawing at my stomach forced me up.

I pushed the blankets off and willed myself to stand, my head still light from the fever. The world swayed slightly as I stepped forward, my bare feet padding against the cool floor. I walked into my living room, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, only to halt at the sight before me.

Keith was standing by my small dining table, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched low on his nose as he poured steaming soup into a bowl. The scent of freshly made food filled the air, making my stomach tighten. A second plate was set with neatly arranged rice and a side of vegetables.

I blinked, half-convinced I was still hallucinating.

"You're awake," Keith said, placing the bowl down before turning to me. His sharp blue eyes scanned my face, assessing me like I was some case study. "Come and eat."

I scoffed, still trying to comprehend the scene. "Did you just... cook?"

He shot me a flat look. "I heated it up. You're not that lucky."

I rolled my eyes and moved to sit down, though my body protested with every step. I let out a small breath as I eased into the chair, my fingers instinctively wrapping around the warmth of the soup bowl.

Keith pulled out a chair across from me, sitting down, his expression turning serious. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

I raised a brow, feigning nonchalance as I stirred the soup. "I did try calling you," I said, my voice laced with mockery. "But since you were too busy dating Margaret, I figured it wouldn't be of any interest to you."

Keith's jaw tightened. "I'm not dating Margaret."

His tone was sharp, his response immediate.

I didn't push.

He didn't elaborate, and I didn't ask.

Instead, I let the silence settle, focusing on the meal in front of me. The warmth of the soup did wonders against my sore throat, easing the discomfort. My phone vibrated against the table, catching my attention.

Jesse.

Jesse: Are you okay?

A small smile tugged at my lips as I quickly typed a reply.

Me: Yeah, I'm fine.

Jesse's response came almost instantly.

Jesse: You should take the day off. Rest properly.

I was already shaking my head, about to type out a refusal, when my phone was suddenly yanked from my hands.

I gasped, looking up just in time to see Keith typing something. "Hey!" I snapped, reaching for my phone, but he leaned back effortlessly, avoiding my grasp.

"Keith, give it back!" I huffed, stretching my arms out toward him, but he simply leaned back in his chair, holding my phone high above his head.

A smirk ghosted his lips, teasing, infuriating. 

"Why? You were just about to lie to him, weren't you?"

I scowled, stepping closer. "It's not lying! I don't need a day off."

Keith let out a low chuckle, tilting his head as if amused. "You can barely stand, Vienna."

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the fact that I was swaying slightly from the fever. "I'll be fine. Now, give me my phone!"

I reached again, standing on my toes, but Keith simply stretched his arm further away, his height giving him an unfair advantage.

"Keith!" I protested, hopping slightly, my fingers just brushing the edge of the device.

"Try harder," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement.

I growled in frustration, pressing forward, practically climbing over the side of his chair as I grabbed at his wrist. But before I could even attempt to snatch it away, my foot caught against the leg of the chair.

I stumbled.

A gasp escaped my lips as the world tilted, but before I could hit the ground, Keith moved.

Fast.

His arm shot out, catching me by the waist, pulling me against him in one swift, fluid motion.

My breath hitched.

The room suddenly felt smaller, warmer.

I found myself pressed against him, his hold on me firm, unrelenting. My hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as my chest rose and fell against his.

We were close.

Too close.

My gaze flickered up, my heart hammering wildly as I took in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek.

I had always known Keith was handsome. But up close, with his face mere inches from mine, with the light catching the glint of his dark lashes and the sharp cut of his cheekbones, he was devastating.

My skin prickled, the warmth from his touch seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt where his fingers pressed against my lower back.

He didn't let go.

In fact, his grip tightened.

It was subtle, the way his fingers curled just a little more, as if he wasn't quite ready to release me.

My pulse roared in my ears, the fever making everything feel twice as intense, every touch amplified.

Was it just me, or was he looking at me differently?

His blue eyes darkened, trailing slowly over my face, taking in every inch as if memorizing it. But he didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

The tension crackled between us, thick and heavy, pressing down on my chest.

I swallowed, my lips parting slightly, unsure if I should move, unsure if I even wanted to.

The space between us felt nonexistent, his warmth wrapping around me, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my clothes. My breath came uneven, my body still unsteady from fever and from him.

I shifted slightly, taking the smallest step back, but my hip brushed against the edge of the table. A quick glance down told me the truth, I had nowhere to go. If I lost my balance, if I fell, I would take him down with me.

Keith's gaze never wavered. He held me firm, his grip unwavering, his fingers still pressed against the small of my back as if keeping me tethered. The air between us grew heavier, my pulse erratic against my ribs.

"If I hold something," his voice dropped to a whisper, low and smooth, dangerous, "it isn't easy to let go."

The way he said it, soft yet commanding, a quiet promise laced with something else, something darker sent a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Don't worry," he added, the corners of his lips curving ever so slightly, as if amused by my sudden stillness, by the way my breath hitched at his words.

Goosebumps spread across my skin as his voice curled around me, intoxicating, his presence overwhelming. My fingers curled against his shoulders, grasping for something, anything to ground me, to stop the rush of heat pooling in my stomach.

I wasn't sure if it was the fever or the sheer intensity of the moment that made me feel lightheaded.

And then—

The sharp beep of my phone broke the spell.

I jolted slightly, and as if snapping back to reality, Keith's fingers loosened. He stepped back, his face once again unreadable, his movements controlled, composed.

I forced myself to step back as well, ignoring the lingering heat in my cheeks, my skin still tingling where he had touched me.

Keith cleared his throat, running a hand through his dark hair before fixing the sleeves of his shirt. He didn't look at me as he casually picked up my phone again.

Without a word, he unlocked it, read Jesse's text, and swiftly typed out a response.

Me: You're right. I'll take the day off. Thanks.

I blinked, still trying to process what just happened.

Keith set the phone back down on the table, finally meeting my gaze with something unreadable in his expression.

"You need rest," he said simply, as if nothing had just transpired between us.

I exhaled slowly, my heartbeat still unsteady.

Keith Devlin was going to be the death of me.

Me: You're right. I'll take the day off. Thanks.

I gaped at him in horror. "You did not just do that."

Keith smirked, tossing my phone back onto the table. "You need rest, and you need to prepare for what's coming."

I glared at him, my appetite momentarily forgotten. "And what exactly is coming?"

"The wedding planners are after you," he stated matter-of-factly, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip. "Instead of ignoring them and letting them annoy you all day, let's set boundaries."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"We tell them we'll only give them two hours a day. We're both working professionals, and they'll have to manage within that time."

I frowned, chewing over his words. "Two hours a day? That's still too much."

"Would you rather have them calling every second of the day?"

I let out a frustrated sigh, stabbing at my food with my spoon. "Fine. But if they overstep, I'm out."

Keith let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "You say that like you have a choice."

I scowled, but before I could snap back, my phone buzzed again.

Keith picked it up and glanced at the screen. "It's Jesse."

I reached for my phone, but Keith simply leaned back in his chair, eyes still on the screen.

"He says he'll be coming over during his break."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "I should probably tell him not to."

Keith hummed, clearly not invested, but I caught the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table just a little tighter.

I quickly typed out a response.

Me: I appreciate it, but I'll be resting. Let's meet another time.

Jesse's reply came after a moment.

Jesse: Alright. Take care, Vienna.

Keith tossed my phone back onto the table with an unreadable expression. "Good. Now, let's deal with the planners."

I studied him for a moment before exhaling. "Fine. Are you staying?"

He let out a small scoff, leaning forward, his elbows resting against the table. "Of course, I'm staying. The wedding planner is coming, remember?"

I shouldn't have asked.

His presence was cold again, distant, like the warmth from earlier had never existed.

Keith pushed his chair back abruptly, standing. "I'm going out to fetch some drinks."

I frowned. "At this hour?"

"Didn't realize I needed a schedule for it," he said coolly, heading toward the door.

I watched as he disappeared, leaving me alone with half-eaten food and an aching head.

Keith Devlin was the most confusing man I had ever met.

He burned hot and cold, leaving me stumbling between trying to understand him and wanting to strangle him.

One second, he was breaking into my apartment to check on me. The next, he was throwing me aside like I was nothing.

I stared at the door long after he was gone.

I would never understand him.

And maybe that was the problem.