Accidentally Crossing the Tycoon Chapter 105

Audrey's POV:

The drive back to the hotel was mercifully quiet.

I watched Noah sleep peacefully in the luxurious backseat of Caspar's car.

"He's completely out," I whispered, glancing back at Noah.

Caspar nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "He is too active today."

Something in his voice sounded strained, but I was too tired to analyze it.

When we arrived at the hotel, Caspar carefully lifted Noah from the car, cradling him against his chest with surprising tenderness.

I walked beside them to the elevator, maintaining a careful distance.

"Goodnight," I said softly as we reached our floor.

Caspar's eyes met mine briefly. "Goodnight, Audrey."

I entered my suite, grateful for the solitude.

After washing away my makeup and changing into silk pajamas, I settled into the plush king-sized bed, hoping sleep would come quickly.

Just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Caspar's name illuminated the screen.

"Hello?" I answered, immediately alert.

"I need you to open your door." His voice was barely recognizable—hoarse and strained.

"What? It's past midnight."

"*Now*, Audrey." The call ended abruptly.

Uneasiness crept up my spine.

I threw on a silk robe, tying it securely around my waist, and approached the door that connected our suites.

When I opened it, I nearly gasped.

Caspar stood there, his normally impeccable appearance shattered.

His face was paper-white, drained of all color except for the dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead and temples, trickling down the side of his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, immediately stepping back to let him in.

His breathing came in shallow, labored gasps, and he gripped the doorframe for support, his knuckles white from the effort of keeping himself upright.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he moved past me, each word clearly an effort. "But I can't... Noah can't see me like this."

I helped him to the bed, where he sat heavily on the edge, his breathing labored.

"Where's your medication?" I asked, recalling his mysterious pill case from previous encounters.

"Pocket," he managed to say. "Right... side."

"You should lie down," I said, trying to maintain a clinical tone. "It will be easier for both of us."

As he settled onto my bed, his tall frame stretched across the pristine white sheets, I couldn't help but notice his throat was exposed where he'd loosened his collar, showing the strong line of his neck, and his chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

I felt a flush creep up my neck that had nothing to do with the room temperature.

I had to admit that Caspar Thornton held a powerful attraction for me.

This was testing my self-control in ways I hadn't anticipated.

I forced my gaze away, reminding myself of the situation, and took a steadying breath, banishing inappropriate thoughts from my mind.

My fingers brushed against his leg in the process, and I pretended not to notice the slight tension in his muscles at my touch.

I carefully reached into his pocket, retrieving a small metal case.

After retrieving a glass of water from the bathroom, I returned to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. I helped raise his head slightly as I offered him both the pill and water.

He swallowed the pills, his eyes never leaving mine.

Gradually, his breathing began to normalize.

The rigid tension in his body eased, and I watched as the medication took effect, his features slowly relaxing from their mask of pain.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice softer than I'd intended.

"Are you alright? Should I call for a doctor or take you to a hospital?"

He shook his head slightly, the movement clearly requiring effort.

A pause, then: "Were you afraid I might die?"

The question caught me off guard. There was something vulnerable in his eyes that made my chest tighten.

"Well, of course," I replied with forced lightness.

"If Caspar Thornton died in my hotel room, I'd be the prime suspect. My life would be over."

Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment, perhaps even hurt—before his expression smoothed over.

"Always practical, Ms. Lane," he murmured.

The bitterness in his tone made me pause. "What is it? This condition of yours?"

He studied me for a long moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. Finally, he spoke.

"Someone poisoned me," he said, his voice flat. "A few years ago. They administered a rare slow-acting toxin."

I felt my blood run cold. "Do you know who did it?"

He shook his head, frustration evident in the gesture.

"Not with certainty. But I know it may be someone within the Thornton family," he added, his voice hardening.

"That's why you moved out with Noah," I whispered, the realization dawning on me.

Looking at him now, I finally understood the hypervigilance I'd observed in him.

What I'd previously interpreted as cold paranoia was actually a kind of self-protection method.

"The poison..." I hesitated, unsure how to phrase such a delicate question. "Is it still in your system? Is there a way to solve it?"

Caspar's expression softened slightly. "It's complicated."

"Will you ever fully recover?" I asked.

"The prognosis is uncertain," he admitted. "But I assure you, Audrey, I will not die."

His eyes met mine, and I was startled by the unexpected tenderness I found there.

"Well, you should rest," I said softly, uncomfortable with the intensity of the moment. "And don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," he murmured, then his eyes began to close, the medication finally pulling him toward sleep.

I studied him in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

How strange to see King C like this—defenseless, human.

The contrast between his public persona and this private vulnerability was jarring.

After making sure he was breathing steadily, I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and settled onto the sofa in the suite's living area.

Sleep came fitfully, my dreams filled with shadowy figures and poisoned cups.

I woke with a start to the sensation of something soft being laid over me.

My eyes snapped open, body tensing automatically as I assessed potential threats.

Caspar stood over me, a blanket in his hands. He'd apparently been trying to cover me.

"I apologize for startling you," he said quietly, stepping back to give me space. "You looked cold."

I tried to calm my racing heart, embarrassed by my extreme reaction.

"Old habits," I murmured, running a hand through my tangled hair.

"Are you always this alert?" Caspar asked, something probing in his gaze.

This question reminds me of those dark years in London, which made me develop the habit of staying alert even in my sleep.

"I'm just a light sleeper," I said with a casual shrug. "Always have been. "

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

"Ms. Audrey?" Noah's voice called out. "Are you awake? "

I jolted upright, panic flooding through me.

If Noah found his father in my hotel room this early in the morning, there would be no end to the conclusions his imaginative little mind would draw.

I frantically glanced around the room, as if searching for a closet to shove Caspar into.

"You need to—" I whispered urgently, making a vague hiding motion with my hands.

Caspar watched my frenzied response with undisguised amusement, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Relax, Audrey. He's four, not the tabloid press."

Before I could protest, he strode to the door and pulled it open.

Noah stood in the hallway in his pajamas. His expression shifted from curiosity to delight when he spotted his father.

"Dad!" His eyes widened, darting between Caspar and me with growing excitement.

"Were you and Ms. Audrey having a sleepover?"

I opened my mouth to explain, to clarify the innocence of the situation, but Caspar beat me to it.

"Yes, we were," he said matter-of-factly.

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. What was he doing?

Caspar continued smoothly, "Next time we'll include you too."

Noah's face lit up.

"Really? Promise? I don't kick or snore or anything! Edward says I'm the quietest sleeper in the whole house!"

Noah turned to me, his eyes wide with hope and excitement, clearly waiting for my confirmation.

I shot Caspar a quick glare, then softened my expression as I looked at Noah.

"Sure, Noah," I said, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. "That sounds... fun."