When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 95

Ethan

I stared at the breakfast tray Michael had just placed on my hospital bed. The spread was impressive—fresh fruit, yogurt, toast, and what looked like a perfectly made omelet. My first thought wasn't about the food, though.

"Did she eat?" I asked, my eyes still fixed on the tray.

Michael paused, clearly caught off guard by my question. "Dr. Thompson went to the hospital cafeteria about twenty minutes ago."

I nodded, feeling an unexpected pang of concern. "From now on, when you order food, do it anonymously. Don't mention my name or give anyone a reason to connect it to her. She doesn't need the extra attention or gossip."

James, who'd been scrolling through his phone in the corner, looked up with raised eyebrows. "Well, well. Looks like someone's finally getting a clue."

I didn't respond verbally, just gave a small nod. This was only the beginning of my plan to win Amelia back. Three years of searching, of regret, of playing every moment over in my head—I wasn't going to mess it up again.

While I picked at my breakfast, I noticed Noah giving James an odd, meaningful look. James immediately caught it and smirked.

"Don't look at me like that," James said, leaning back in his chair. "If you've fallen in love with me, just say it. No need to make puppy eyes across the room."

Michael nearly choked on his coffee, failing to suppress a laugh. Even I couldn't help the slight upward curve of my lips. Michael quickly excused himself, muttering something about handling some calls, clearly trying to escape before he lost his professional composure completely.

"Jesus Christ, James," Noah groaned once Michael left. "The entire floor of medical staff already thinks we're a couple. I had three nurses giving me sympathetic looks this morning."

I watched their banter with quiet amusement. Noah's discomfort was entertaining, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was calculating something, probably viewing the misunderstanding as useful camouflage for whatever scheme he was cooking up.

"I've decided I'm going after Olivia," Noah announced suddenly, his tone deliberately casual.

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Bennett? The woman who just tried to rearrange your face with a tennis racket?"

"The very same," Noah confirmed with a confidence that seemed forced. "She's exactly my type."

"She likes hitting people, and you enjoy getting hit. Perfect match," I remarked dryly, thinking about Amelia's fierce loyalty to her friend. If Noah was serious about Olivia, he'd have to navigate that friendship carefully.

James snorted. "Randall, you're a masochist. The woman despises you."

"She'll fall for me," Noah insisted, a hint of something darker crossing his features. "And when she does, I'll break her heart. Payback for the face."

I shook my head slightly, seeing through his bravado. Noah wasn't the type to follow through on revenge against women, no matter how much he pretended otherwise. His words were just a shield for his bruised ego—and possibly genuine interest.

James's phone buzzed, interrupting our conversation. His expression shifted to something more serious as he checked the screen.

"Problem at Blue Note," he said, already standing. "Some VIP causing trouble. Gotta handle it."

Noah watched James hurry out, then turned to me with narrowed eyes. "You know, I'm starting to wonder about that guy's preferences."

"He just enjoys watching you squirm," I replied, knowing James would find Noah's confusion hilarious.

"Yeah, well, speaking of bills," Noah transitioned smoothly, "you're covering my medical expenses. Those stitches weren't cheap."

"Or I could tell your mother you've developed an interest in men," I threatened with mock seriousness. "I'm sure Mrs. Randall would be thrilled to start planning your wedding to James."

The color drained from Noah's face. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered, all traces of humor gone.

By afternoon, the parade of visitors continued. Parker appeared at the door, his posture impeccable as always, announcing that my grandfather had arrived. Behind him stood George, flanked by two security personnel who remained outside as he entered.

I immediately sat up straighter, a reflex developed over decades. No matter how old I got, my grandfather's presence commanded respect. Michael, sensing the shift in atmosphere, quietly excused himself, leaving us alone.

My grandfather looked at me with scrutinizing eyes, taking in the bandages and my overall condition. Despite being in his eighties, his gaze remained sharp, missing nothing.

"Well," he said, settling into the chair beside my bed, "I see your 'hospital plan' is progressing. Is it working?"

I felt my heart rate pick up slightly. This wasn't just a casual inquiry. My grandfather never asked questions without purpose.

"My goal is to get her back," I stated plainly, seeing no point in pretense. "Not just for three months. Permanently."

He nodded slowly, as if he'd expected this answer. "And has she forgiven you yet?"

"I apologized," I admitted, unable to hide the slight frustration in my tone. "She hasn't forgiven me yet, but I've started sending flowers every morning. It's a start."

"Flowers?" My grandfather's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "Well, that's... unexpectedly thoughtful of you. I didn't know you had it in you, Ethan."

I offered a bitter smile. "I've learned a few things in the past three years."

"Not enough, apparently, if you're still in this hospital bed instead of with your wife," he observed, though without the cutting edge his criticism usually carried.

"Ex-wife," I corrected automatically, then regretted it immediately.

"For now," he countered, a knowing look in his eyes. "I think I'll go see her myself."

My heart sank. "Grandfather, please don't interfere. I need to handle this my way."

He raised a hand to silence me. "I'm not going to meddle, Ethan. I just want to see her. William's granddaughter deserves that much from me." His voice softened slightly at the mention of his old friend. "But let me give you one piece of advice: put her feelings first. Not your pride, not your plans, not what you think is best. What she wants and how she feels should be your primary concern."

I nodded, taking his words to heart. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Good," he said, rising from his chair. "Because I don't think you'll get a third chance."

As I watched him leave, I leaned back against my pillows, mind racing with possibilities. My grandfather was right—I wouldn't get another opportunity if I messed this up again. Amelia deserved better than the man I had been. And somehow, I needed to prove to her that I could be that better man.

The door closed behind my grandfather, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint antiseptic smell of the hospital room. I had a long way to go, but for the first time in years, I felt something that resembled hope.