Jordan POV
I must be delirious. Feverish, for sure. Or maybe that medicine Chef Ogre gave me was expired and now I'm hallucinating. What other explanation could there be for the fact that I'm currently… sitting on his office couch. Resting. With my phone charging in a socket right next to me.
After he personally called my landlord. I'm still in shock. Not just surprised he even knew who my landlord was — but because I don't understand why. Why did he make that call?
To check if I was telling the truth? Probably. Of course I'm uncomfortable, he thought I'd lie.
But honestly, in his place, I probably wouldn't believe me either.
So, I didn't dwell on it too much.
Not when something worse had just been confirmed: Still no power. No hot water. Now… no water at all. Just perfect.
At the end of the call, while I was still trying to process that delightful update, Chef Adam simply said — in a surprisingly calm tone:
"Let's go get your phone. You can leave it here to charge." I had no idea what to say. I felt like I needed to physically stop my mouth from falling open in disbelief.
Just like that. As if it were the most normal thing in the world for the world's grumpiest chef to offer up his office as my personal charging station. I blinked, confused. Still trying to wrap my head around the power and water situation — let alone a dead phone battery.
But okay… one problem at a time. I left the office to grab my purse — the idea being that we were going together to go get my phone. Right? I mean, he said "let's go," didn't he?
I must be hallucinating. My brain felt like scrambled eggs.
When I opened my bag, there it was. My phone. Already inside. Turns out I had shoved it in there during the chaos of the morning. Well, Jordan, at least you did one thing right today.
I went back to the office, where he seemed to be wrapping up a call. Didn't mean to eavesdrop — but the door was open… And I heard Mateus's name. They were talking about postponing the shoot.
My stomach twisted. Another delay. Another missed opportunity. I swallowed the frustration. Or tried to.
"Let's go," he said to me once he hung up.
"It's okay, I actually brought it…" I lifted my phone slightly, unsure whether I should thank him or just quietly disappear.
He simply nodded and held out his hand. When I gave him the phone, our fingers brushed.
A jolt ran up my arm like I'd been shocked. I tried to ignore it. Symptom of the cold, surely. Or fever. Or delirium.
Without saying much else, he plugged in my phone and told me I could stay there, on the couch, and rest while he went grocery shopping.
And so here I am. Feverish, dizzy, confused… Lying on Chef Adam Black's office couch.
Is this seriously happening?
Still trying to process everything. I thought I'd be fired, humiliated, kicked out in a rage.
Instead… I got paracetamol, water… and silence. A lot of silence.
I sigh. I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the rest of the day. No energy.
No strength. No electricity at home. And water? I just want a shower. A hot one. Actually, even cold water would feel like a gift from the gods right now.
Well… at least my phone's charging. Priorities, right?
Wrong. If I could, I'd trade this for a warm bath and a real bed right now.
Maybe I can ask Melissa if I can shower at her place. Yes. Good plan.
My head still felt heavy. My eyes were burning. There was a warm, thick knot in my chest — maybe from frustration, maybe exhaustion, maybe just a swirling mix of everything I couldn't quite name anymore.
And the worst part wasn't even the cold. It was this ridiculous urge I still had to… cry. Just a little. Just enough to let it all out. Because nothing — absolutely nothing — was going right.
But not yet. Now wasn't the time to fall apart.
I pressed my hand to my forehead. Still warm. Of course.
I looked around. The office was still quiet. My phone is still far from fully charged. My body started to sink deeper. Maybe I could just… lie down for a bit. Just a minute.
I closed my eyes. Just to rest. Just five minutes.
I fell asleep. And I dreamed.
I felt warm. Comfortable. That good kind of warmth — soft, enveloping, soothing. Almost too cozy to be real.
I knew I was dreaming. And even so, I clung to it. It was one of those dreams. The kind that takes over your entire body. The kind that includes an attractive man… and an atmosphere thick with tension.
I was curled up in someone's arms. A firm chest, warm and solid against mine. His face wasn't clear — like it was hidden behind a fog my mind couldn't lift. But there was something… familiar.
The scent. God, he smelled so good. Wood. Spices. Heat. Masculine.
Can you smell things in dreams? Or was this just my desperate imagination?
Real or not… I wanted more. I wanted to press into him. To breathe him in. To claim that smell like it was mine.
I leaned in and kissed his neck. Slowly. No rush. His skin was warm under my lips. So warm. So real. Almost too real.
And then it slipped out — a small moan. Soft. Involuntary. The kind of sound your body makes without permission.
Oh, Jordan… don't wake up now. Please.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Or at least, I tried to. All I wanted was a kiss. A real kiss. One that would wake me up from the inside. That would make me forget everything.
And just as it was about to happen — a breath away — he pulled back. No. No!
My own frustration cry echoed inside my mind. He pulled away. And the warmth vanished.
Like someone had yanked an invisible blanket off me.
Cold flooded in. A chill. An emptiness. No. Not again. First Lorenzo… now not even the man in my dream wants to kiss me?
Can I not get a kiss — even in my dreams?
I tried to reach for him. To pull him back. But my arms wouldn't move. Why couldn't I move?
Panic set in.
I forced myself to wake up. My eyes flew open.
And I saw… eyes.
Two intense, focused eyes. Dark. Alert. Far too close.
I blinked. Once. Then again.
My brain was still halfway between dream and reality. But those eyes… They were real.
Was I still dreaming?