I don't know for how long I sleep, but when I wake up, Adrian is still in the room, still working. I take that time to just watch him in his element. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks focused. Sexy as hell. His dark, dark hair is all kinds of messy.

I feel a little better now, but my body still hurts and my throat is still sore.

Adrian notices I'm awake when I try to place my head on my palm so I could see him better. The lines on his forehead smoothen when he looks at me. And then he smiles. And everything suddenly feels better. "Hi," I crook out.

Adrian closes the lit of his laptop and stands up, stretching. He's still in his suit, sans the jacket, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, coming towards me.

I shrug. "Better."

He looks at his wristwatch. "Good thing you woke up. The doctor should be here soon."

"I don't think I need a doctor, to be honest. I'm already feeling better."

"Nonsense, Cassandra. I want her to tell me that."

"Her?" I repeat, hiding the smile that wants to come out on the surface. "Is your doctor a female?" I wonder.

Adrian slightly purses her lips. "No, but I'm sure as hell not letting another male touch you."

I want to roll my eyes, but I kind of like this possessive side of him. It's him showing his true emotions. The one thing he's bad at hiding is his jealousy. "Okay," I say softly, amused.

Adrian sits down on the edge of the bed. "Do you need anything? Tea? Anything to eat? More pillows?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine," I say. "I do need to ask you something."

Adrian's face becomes serious and that's an indication that he probably already knows what I'm about to ask him. "Go ahead," he says.

"What did my mother want?"

Adrian sighs, tentatively rubbing his eyebrow. "Your mother ... is an interesting woman. In a strange way, I'd say."

That doesn't assure me at all. It doesn't tell me much, either. "I know, but what does that mean coming from you? What did she say?" I panic a little, sitting up on the bed.

Adrian gauges my expression, his eyes never once leaving my face. "I don't care to go into the details because I don't find them important enough for you to know. She asked for money."

I should've known. I suspected it, but I thought she had at least some dignity left. I thought she'd come to me about it. "She asked you ... for money?"

"Yes."

"I hope you didn't give her even a penny!" I exclaim, but my voice doesn't allow me to be nearly as loud as I want to be.

"She's your mother," Adrian says softly, putting his hand on my leg.

I shake my head in disbelief. "Adrian, no," I say quietly. "That is not your battle to fight."

He presses his lips together, looking angry. He removes his hand from my leg. "I beg to differ."

"But, as you said, she is my mother and you don't know her like I do, Adrian," I say seriously. He shouldn't have done anything without asking me about it first.

"It's over now, Cassandra. She is not going to bother you."

I snort. "No, she's going to bother you. She'll be coming back for money."

"She got the money on condition she won't bother you or me again."

I shake my head, in disbelief that he really did this. "How much money did you give her?"

Adrian stands up again. "That is not important. I'll go get you a cup of tea."

"No," I say, reaching over. Adrian only gives me a look.

"Stay in the bed," he says before he goes out of the room. I huff to myself. I've never thought Adrian could act childish, not even that he would back away from an important conversation and escape it. But he did exactly that. Which is pretty immature, especially for a man like him.

I look at Adrian with raised eyebrows when he comes back. He sits back on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands together. "I'll pay you back. I don't care how much she took."

"Absolutely not." Adrian turns his head around to glare at me.

"Yes. And I am not willing to negotiate this."

"Well, I am. I gave her the money because I wanted to. You stay out of this." He points his hand at me.

"Don't tell me what to do when it comes to my mother!" I say, raising my voice and cursing when it cracks mid-sentence.

Adrian's eyes soften when he hears it. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Let's not fight about this. It's pointless. And you should be resting."

"Don't brush this away like that. This is important and I won't let you have your way. How did my madre even find where I am?"

"There was some kind of a mistake made with your information and you received a letter at your home regarding your job. There was address written in it."

I think this through. "So that means you sent it?"

"My wife, actually, but it was from me, yes."

"You had my home address," I state. I never gave that address away, I didn't even include it in my CV. "How?"

Adrian cocks his head to the side. "Cassandra," he says softly, yet I can hear the warning.

"You had me checked, didn't you?"

"I check all of my staff," he says tightly.

"Especially the ones you put your dick in, huh?"

His face turns stern. "That's enough, Cassandra. Be reasonable."

"Just like you were when I told you I'm going to pay you back. You just walked out on me."

He sighs tiredly. "Let's not fight, alright?"

"We're not fighting, we're just talking. How much did you pay my mother?" I ask him again.

"Drop it," Adrian replies, still not giving me a straight answer.

I'm getting impatient with him. I cross my arms over my chest. "Is it really that hard to just tell me? You shouldn't have paid her anything in the first place, so just tell me how much it was."

Adrian places his fists down on the mattress and pushes himself up, coming closer to my face. "Drop it," he says yet again. "It's an unimportant information. You didn't want her here and now she isn't. You can just say thank you and we can move on."

I glare at him. "You're being difficult."

Adrian shakes his head. "Honey," he sighs, his expression softening, his lips slightly curling up. "I should've known I'd have my hands full with you," he murmurs more to himself than me.

We look at each other for long moments. "Thank you," I cave in because I know he's not going to. And because it's easier than keep fighting about it.

Adrian gives me a small smile. "You're welcome, Cassandra." He sits back on the edge of the bed.

"Did you talk about anything else?" I ask him. I can't mask the hope in my voice.

Adrian's jaw clenches. "Not about anything important enough that you should know."

"She didn't ... ask about me?"

"Cassandra," Adrian says softly, his eyes softening. That's all the answer I need, but I still need to hear it from him. I need him to tell me the truth.

"Did she?"

Adrian can't hide the grimace. "Not in ... the context you'd like her to."

"What does that even mean?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't exactly see her accusing you of sleeping with me for money a motherly concern, but you can be the judge of it."

I gasp. And then I look away from Adrian, suddenly too embarrassed. I can't believe this. I can't believe she would really say this. But she's never been really a role model for me and I don't think she knows how to show concern for her child. Or maybe I'm just not the right child she's concerned about.

I should've expected something like this coming out of her mouth. She has no filter and she doesn't care about anyone else but herself. "Well, then. It's something at least, right?" I pull the covers off me. "I'll go take a shower now if you'll excuse me."

"Cassandra." Adrian stands up. Panic writes all over his face and he's not bothering to hide it. One thing I've noticed is that when Adrian spends some time with me, he forgets about hiding his true feelings. I don't know whether it's because he gets comfortable enough to trust me or if it's anything else, but whatever the reason, I like it.

"It's okay, I just need to take a shower. I'm fine," I tell him. And I'm not lying. It's not like I expected my mother coming to beg me for forgiveness. Maybe I hoped for a little more compassion and love, but I didn't expect much from her – at least not anything in a positive sense. This is my mother we're talking about, after all. She doesn't do positive or nice. Or love.

I see Adrian doesn't believe me. "I'm fine, Adrian," I tell him more convincingly than before. "I just really need a shower," I say, scrunching my face up. I really hate being sick. "I'll change the sheets afterwards."

Adrian looks at the bed. "I'll do that," he offers.

I raise my eyebrows. "Do you even know how?"

He looks at me, offended. "Of course I do. Who do you think changed my bedsheets when I couldn't afford a housekeeper?"

I open my mouth to reply, but I shut it again. When he couldn't afford a housekeeper? It's hard to imagine that there was a time he wasn't rich. He looks like he was born for this life so I always assumed he's got a rich family, but Milena already hinted it wasn't exactly like that for him.

"Can I borrow one of your shirts?" I ask, changing the subject. I'll ask him about that afterwards.

Adrian waves his hand towards the closet. "By all means. You probably know my closet more than I do by now."

My lips involuntarily curve up into a smile. God, how much I love when he's relaxed because it brings out his funny side.

I pick one of the many white T-shirts he owns, but I've never seen him wearing one. What a shame, though. I just know he'd look sexy as sin.

I've never taken a shower in his bathroom, but I might as well know it better than him since I spend so much time cleaning it. But the luxury it offers doesn't really impress me anymore. It's just a shower. It does its thing and that's all I want.

I try not to let my thoughts run along with the water as I stand under it. I don't want to think about my mother and her words. I don't want to think about how little I actually mean to her when I wish I'd mean so much more to her.

I promise to myself that if I ever have children, I'll treat them better. They'll know they're loved, whatever it takes me to prove it to them.

I put my hand over my stomach, looking down. There's a possibility I'm already carrying a child inside of me. Adrian has no idea about it – about what I did. And I can't bring myself to be sorry about it. I know it wasn't right. But the selfish part of me doesn't care.

I have a feeling Adrian would never leave his child. This is basically me assuring that Adrian won't be able to let me go that easily. I lift my head to look at the fogged mirror that offers a blurry version of myself. But I can still make out a smile on my lips.

The doctor confirms what I already knew. It's a virus and I just have to sleep it off. I give Adrian a smug face, telling him, I told you so, although I don't think it's appropriate to be happy about something like that.

"So, there's basically nothing we can do to speed the healing process?" Adrian asked the doctor, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

"There are ways, but I usually advise patients to rest and let their body fight it on their own."

Adrian eyed me and then sighed, giving in. "Thank you." Adrian shook her hand and then Milena escorted her out.

Now I'm drinking the herbal tea Milena made for me while Adrian is sitting next to me, reading something on his computer, wearing glasses and being shirtless. My eyes can't seem to move away from him. Un hombre magnifico.

"Can I ask you something?"

Adrian turns his head to look at me. "You know you can, Cassandra." I see how the lines around his mouth disappear. They're always there when he's stressed or just really focused on something important.

"I was just wondering about your parents ..."

"My mother is dead and I'm not on speaking terms with my father," Adrian replies curtly, his head turning back to the computer.

I have to blink at him a few times to process the words that came out of his mouth. "Siento tu pérdida," I say quietly. I'm sorry for your loss.

"I was just a kid," Adrian says, not looking at me.

My heart still hurts. I know how it is to lose a parent. Both parents, actually, but it feels like I never really had a mother. "Does the arranged marriage have anything to do with you not talking to your father?"

Adrian eyes me. "Yes," he says.

Oh. "Would you like to tell me more?" I don't want to pry and come out as overly curious.

"Not really," he replies, not looking away from his computer screen.

I try to understand him and not take his words to my heart. I want him to tell me things because he wants to. "Well, if you ever do, you can. That's all I wanted to say." I put the empty cup on the nightstand and lie down on the mattress, resting my head on the comfortable pillow.

Adrian looks at me, his eyes becoming gentle and soft. He stops typing for a second, just looking at me. I give him a soft smile, but he doesn't return it. His eyes smile, though. And that's enough for me.

I close my eyes and drift to sleep.