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l o   s t e s s o

[It.] : The same; applied to tempo, articulation, etc.

GETTING A FULL day's paid leave was something that I used to my full advantage. After waking up at eleven, I decided to drive home and pay a visit to my father, whom I sorely missed. I found him in the garden as usual and he was more than amused to see me, wondering if I'd gotten so homesick that I had quit my job altogether and crawled back home.

"Of course not," I said indignantly, when he suggested that. "I thought you'd be happy that I'm here to see you."

"I am," he insisted, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked up at me. "Can't you see me smiling?"

"You're frowning because of the glare from the sun, Dad."

I watched as he dug around a rose plant and transported it by its roots into a fresh new pot. A part of me wished that I could be here all the time to help him – thank God for Castor, who worked here over the summer, and Millie, who occasionally chipped in to help now that I was no longer around.

"So, your boss, this – boy," he began.

I almost smirked at that, wondering if my father actually knew just how rich and influential Kaden Bretton was. My father had heard almost everything there was to know about my new job. But, unlike Parker, who was rather protective and made sure that Kaden didn't overstep any boundaries; Dad accepted it all with a general air of amusement.

"Are you getting through to him yet?"

"I don't know," I told him honestly, helping him to load several pots into the cart. "I thought I was last night – when I stayed behind to help Kaden at work...but, well, we seem to have reached some sort of impasse."

"Well, you know the solution to any and every problem is good – "

" – communication," I finished and nodded. Dad had basically drilled that into me since I was a child and it was a concept I never quite forgot. "I get it. And I've always believed it. Until this new version of Kaden came along and wouldn't listen to anything I said. So Millie told me that actions speak louder than words and that I should show him that I still care about him."

Dad chuckled. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Not too good," I admitted, with a sheepish smile. "Sometimes it works, but sometimes he gets angry and just shuts himself off."

"I see, " Dad said, after a moment's pause. He continued working in silence for a while, before looking over at me. "You know, people shut themselves off for many different reasons. Maybe this boy's not so much angry as he is scared."

My eyebrows knitted together. "Scared?" I echoed, testing the word out on the tip of my tongue. But it seemed almost implausible that Kaden, the man who had the world at his feet, would be scared of anything – least of all me. "I don't think he's scared."

"Just hazarding a guess, sweetheart."

I shook my head at him with a fond smile, and continued loading the pots. After a few minutes, a sudden thought came to mind and I paused. "Hey, Dad?" He looked over at me, and I straightened. "Remember that orphanage Mum used to volunteer at?"

He smiled softly at me. "You still remember that?"

"Of course. One of the things I'll never forget. Do you by any chance happen to remember the name of the home?"

Dad frowned. "Breckenridge, I think," he said at last, "I'm not entirely sure, but if you go through your mother's things, I'm sure you'll find the name scribbled somewhere."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Part of your job?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Something like that."

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My afternoon with Dad passed all too quickly and I returned to work the next day feeling well rested. The first thing I noticed when I entered was the familiar stack of files on my table, the same ones that I was supposed to go through two days ago, only I had fallen asleep midway through them.

I was adamant to finish them this time round. So I started out by reading through the proposals and information listened under each beneficiary, marking out the ones I thought needed more help and discarding the ones that didn't.

It wasn't until ten in the morning when I stopped midway through and realised that Kaden hadn't come into work yet. As the head of the company, his working hours were more or less sporadic. But he generally came in no later than ten, so this was definitely something different.

I couldn't help but feel a little lost without Kaden. Scratch that, I actually felt very lost, because I was his personal assistant and I had no idea what my job entailed now that he wasn't there. Who was I supposed to direct calls to? Whose schedule was I supposed to plan now? Where did I send the clients who wanted to see him?

But those were just the least of my worries because my mind was far more focused on the fact that something had probably happened to Kaden.

When in doubt, the first person I thought of turning to was always my brother. And so I texted him about Kaden's whereabouts, drumming my fingers impatiently against the desk as I waited for his reply. It didn't take long. Several minutes later, Parker's number flashed across my screen and I answered eagerly.

"So where's Kaden?"

"Not even a hello?" I could detect a faint trace of amusement under his mock-indignation. "I stepped out midway through a bloody meeting to answer you and this is what I get?"

"Please. You could've just texted, you didn't have to step out to make the call. So really, I think you wanted to get out of the meeting."

"Touché," he let out a rich chuckle. "Anyway, it's just as well that you texted me because Kaden called me this morning to let you know that he's sick but I was busy all morning and it slipped my mind. He says that you just have to go through the files on your table and then you're done for the day."

My chest tightened as a sudden worry seized me, and I gripped the phone tighter against my ear. "Wait – is anyone with him?"

"Doubt it – since he's staying at the penthouse suite in Nolan's hotel and not at the beach-house."

My eyebrows rose. "He stays in the Mortezion?"

"The branch closest to your workplace. Actually, he lives there – he bought the suite for a ridiculous amount some years ago and he's been staying there ever since. I was thinking of dropping in on him sometime later this afternoon, but if you're going, I'd be happy to stay out of the way," he added teasingly.

"You're an idiot," I scolded, but couldn't stop the faint smile that curved on my lips. "Go back to your meeting."

"Yes, mum."

Parker rang off and I set the phone down, gathering up the rest of the files into a neat stack. I wasn't exactly sure who to inform that I was leaving, but since I reported to no department in particular but Kaden himself, I figured it was okay to leave after telling one of my colleagues on the top floor that I had something to see to. Taking the files with me, I headed out of the building and got into my car, stopping along the way to pick up some groceries and medicine along the way.

Going into the Mortezion was always like stepping right into a parallel universe. Even in my work attire, I still felt out of place, especially with grocery bags and a box of files in my arms. I went straight to the counter, waiting in line for the Swedish couple in front of me to finish booking their room, before going up to the lady at the reception desk.

"Hi," I greeted politely, "I was wondering if you'd ring the penthouse suite for me. I'm a friend of Kaden Bretton's, and I'm here to visit."

The lady simply stared, and I didn't miss the suspicious gleam in her eyes as she scrutinised me. "Are you on the list?"

"There's a list?" I was vaguely amused by the fact that the hotel actually specifically catered to Kaden's visitors. Then again, it was Nolan's hotel and Nolan could waive the rules as he saw fit, including accommodating to Kaden's stay as a permanent sort of guest here.

"I'm afraid so. Name, please?"

"Isla Moore," I began, haltingly, frowning as I watched her key my name into the computer system. "But – uh, I don't think I'm on the – "

"Your name's on it."

I blinked. "What?"

"Mr Bretton has you listed here," she replied, shooting me a friendlier smile and picking up the phone. "Just let me call him."

"Oh – alright."

Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, I tried to process the situation that had just occurred. It didn't make sense. Kaden was entirely closed-off at work and didn't even seem to want my company. So why would he list me down as a person who could gain easy access to his home in the first place?

The receptionist glanced up a minute later. "You can go up now. Have a nice day, Ms Moore."

"Thanks. And you too."

Still feeling rather bemused, I headed towards the lift. The ride up was smooth and I took the opportunity to find things to nit-pick at, like stale smells or unclean floors or even cracks in the furniture. Just for the fun of it, so that I could pass them on to Nolan and tease him about it. But I found none. The lift was spotless and the corridor leaning up to the penthouse suite was immaculate.

When the lift reached the top level, I hitched the box of files higher up and stepped out, only to falter in my steps when I saw Kaden leaning tiredly against the wall, dressed in a thin white tee-shirt and sweatpants.

And he didn't look happy.

I quickly headed over to him, feeling a rush of worry surge through me as I took in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the weary shadow along his jawline. "What're you doing out here? You're supposed to be in bed!"

He shot me an unamused look. "Obviously, someone had to come get you," his voice was an unusual rough timbre that I hadn't heard before, and he broke off in a slight coughing fit at the end.

"Stop talking," I told him immediately, ignoring the way he glared at me, and followed him towards the massive door some way along the corridor that was left ajar. "Have you been staying in the office all night for work again?"

He didn't reply. He didn't even bother to carry my things or hold open the door for me when I entered the suite, disappearing quickly into the bedroom on the right. It wasn't until he collapsed onto the bed without another scathing retort that I realised just how ill he was.

Shutting the door quickly behind me, I set my bag and the box of files down, before going into the kitchen and laying out the groceries on the counter. The fridge was completely empty, save for some light beers and bottled water. It took me by surprise at first, but then I quickly realised that if Kaden needed food, all he had to do was to pick up the phone and have the hotel staff deliver it straight to his room.

I went into Kaden's room, dimming the lights by the doorway and reaching across the bed to wake him. "Where's your thermometer? Have you even been taking care of yourself?"

He ignored me. Sighing, I hitched one knee up on the bed so that I could get a firmer grasp on him and pulled him up. He didn't resist when I eased him down onto the pillow, pressing the back of my hand gently against his forehead. His eyes opened slowly, blinking and focusing on me.

I tried to smile, despite the fact that I was inwardly panicking and wondering if it was necessary to send him to the hospital. "You're burning up," I told him, "but just hang in there, I'll make an ice-pack and boil some chicken soup and you'll be fine."

But his hand immediately reached up to latch onto my wrist when I made to pull back. "What – what're you doing, Isla?" he whispered hoarsely, his gaze dark and searching as he stared up at me.

"I'm here to take care of you – wasn't that obvious? I know I'm not the best sort of medical help you can get but I couldn't just leave you."

But if I thought my words would've eased his worries, they didn't. Instead, he shifted out of my grasp and turned on his side away from him. "You shouldn't be here. You'll fall sick too."

"I'll be fine," I insisted and reached out for him again.

"Go away, Isla."

He brushed me away and my eyes narrowed. "Alright, if you want me to leave, then you're going to have to listen and do whatever I tell you to do, otherwise I'll be here for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, if I have to."

Without waiting for his reply, I climbed off the bed and headed back out into the kitchen. It took awhile for me to locate a clean face towel from the linen closet along with a bowl of water, a thermometer, a cup of water and the pills I had bought from the pharmacy on the way over.

Kaden was lying in a foetal position when I returned, and my heart constricted when I looked at him. It seemed almost ludicrous that a person like Kaden who could get anything simply by snapping his fingers was left to fend for himself at a time like this.

When was the last time I fell ill and had to look after myself? That's right – never. Because back when Rosemary was around, she always fussed over me. And when she left, there was Dad. And when I didn't live with Dad – there was Millie or Castor or Parker. I was never alone for long but clearly, Kaden was.

"Kaden?" Setting the things down on the dresser, I reached down to grasp him by the shoulders and pulled him up. He climbed up sluggishly, but despite the obvious signs of fatigue on his face, he still watched me with guarded eyes.

"Here," I placed a pill into his hand, along with the cup of water, "I don't know what you usually take when you're ill, but I have these whenever I get a fever and it should work fine on you."

He didn't deign to reply. I waited until he'd swallowed the pill and sipped it down with water before taking the cup from him. I didn't miss the way his eyes watched me as I dipped the towel into the bowl of water, wrung it out and pressed it gently against his sweat-glazed forehead for awhile before setting it aside.

"You're going to be fine," I repeated, sifting my fingertips through his hair and smiling when his eyes fell shut almost instinctively. It reminded me a lot of what I had done once back at his beach-house, and for a moment, it almost seemed like time had set itself on rewind.

"Go to sleep," I whispered, as he relaxed beneath my touch. "I'll be here when you wake up."

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Some time later, I found myself back in the kitchen stirring a fresh pot of chicken soup from the ingredients I had bought earlier on. Kaden was sound asleep but I had monitored his temperature. He was still feverish but the medication seemed to be working.

It had taken me quite awhile to get used to Kaden's kitchen. For starters, even though he seemed to have full sets of expensive pots and pans, everything was placed in the cupboards and nothing seemed particularly used. I had a feeling Kaden didn't cook often, if he even did at all.

In between waiting for the chicken to boil and checking up on Kaden, I managed to finish reading the rest of the files from work. I had narrowed it down to at least thirty places that could benefit from the company dinner and I was just hoping that there'd be sufficient funding to go round.

My mobile that I had left on the counter suddenly buzzed, and I quickly picked it up, holding it against my ear with one hand while I stirred the pot of soup with a ladle in the other. "Hello?"

"Isla, did you get the fruits?"

I smiled at the way Parker dived headfirst into the conversation without so much as a greeting, and cast a brief glance over my shoulder, to where a basket of fruits sat on the coffee table. "I did. Someone sent it up awhile ago. I knew you were going to get fruits – that's why I didn't get any. I'm assuming you can't make it then?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I got caught up at work," he returned apologetically. "How's he doing?"

"Getting better. Are you sure you can't come?" I took a shot at wheedling, using my best persuasive voice, "because I made chicken soup and there's enough for three."

"Isla – you're a terrible cook."

"Am not!" I cried indignantly, even though his words made me flick another unsure glance at the pot of chicken soup. Truth be told, it did look rather dubious and I wasn't sure if I wanted to serve it to Kaden. "I followed the recipe!"

"Sure you did. Let me know what Kaden thinks of it, alright?"

Parker had sowed the seed of doubt in my mind and ordering soup from the hotel was now beginning to sound like a splendid idea. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," he laughed and I automatically scowled even though he couldn't see me at all. "Have fun, princess."

"We're never speaking again."

He hung up, echoes of his laughter still trailing in my ears. When Parker was in his teasing-brother mode, he took aggravating to a whole new level and outdid Nolan altogether. But it was good to see him happy – Parker never allowed himself to be.

Holding back a sigh, I dropped the ladle to set my phone back down on the counter, only to pause when I saw Kaden standing by the doorway of the kitchen. He looked far more alert this time, his tall frame imposing and somewhat out of place. The expression on his face was more or less relaxed but the moment I smiled, his eyes grew guarded.

"Hey," I went over to him, instinctively reaching up to gauge his temperature since I didn't have the thermometer with me. "How're you feeling?"

He fell a step back, a certain wariness flashing in his eyes as he watched me, and I quickly withdrew. "I'm fine. Was that Parker?"

"Yes. He sends his well wishes, along with that basket of fruit in the living room," I waved my hand noncommittally in the direction of the coffee table before turning back to the pot of soup.

I bit my lip. Parker was right, this wasn't fit to serve and I'd made enough messes in the kitchen over the years to know that I was a horrible cook. The only decent food I could make were sandwiches, and that was only because Michelle had taught it to me back at the beach-house.

Reaching over to the stove, I carefully turned off the fire. Kaden was still watching me, gauging my every move with an odd kind of caution, like he was a prey and I the predator. "Are you hungry?" I asked, "I could order some soup for you, I'm sure it wouldn't take long."

His eyes flickered over to the pot of soup sitting on the stove, before turning back to me pointedly.

"That's inedible," I hastily said, going over and clamping the lid down over the pot. He still looked rather suspicious and I desperately changed the subject. "By the way, have you taken your temperature?"

"I'm fine, Isla."

Which meant that he hadn't. His brusque manner wasn't that hard to decipher.

"Okay, wait right here, I'll go get the thermometer," I told him, manoeuvring carefully past him through the kitchen doorway and heading back into the bedroom.

I found the thermometer on the bedside table just the way I'd left it. Instead of picking it up, I sidled over to the windows by the side of the room instead; sliding the glass doors open so that I could air the room. After pausing to straighten the blanket and pillow on Kaden's bed, I picked up the thermometer and went back outside.

To my surprise, Kaden was still in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, calmly eating from a bowl in front of him. My eyes widened when I realised that the contents of the bowl looked remarkably familiar.

Like the very disgusting soup I had probably concocted if Parker's words were anywhere near the truth.

"Spit that out!" I yelped, rushing to him in horror and yanking the bowl away from him.

Kaden froze momentarily like a deer caught in headlights, before his eyes narrowed and he grabbed the bowl back. "I'm eating," he returned sharply, dipping his spoon into the soup and taking another mouthful of it. "Wasn't this supposed to be for me?"

I stared at him helplessly, when I tried to take the bowl from him again and he held it well out of reach. "Well – yes. But it was also supposed to turn out a lot better than it probably tastes."

"Tastes fine to me," he mumbled.

"Really?"

A smile curved on my lips when he glanced over at me briefly before returning back to the soup. There was something infinitely captivating and pleasant about watching him eat something I'd made him, but I tried not to stare too much and distracted myself with the files from work instead.

After finishing the soup, Kaden went back to bed quite readily without much objections on his part. I took the time to clear the dishes, and it finally occurred to me to actually taste the soup I'd made from the leftovers in the pot. The moment I tasted it, I couldn't help but wince.

Parker was right – I was a horrible cook.

But Kaden had actually finished it.

A part of me wanted to curl up in embarrassment because I'd basically overestimated my skills, but a bigger part of me was reeling with the slow realisation that Millie was right. Actions spoke louder than words and it worked both ways. The fact that Kaden had finished the soup because I'd made it without any complaints had to mean something, didn't it?

I headed back into Kaden's room to close the windows and set a new cup of water on the bedside table. He was fast asleep, his dark hair matted against the pillow and chest rising and falling slowly with every breath he took. Unable to help myself, I reached over and brushed the hair gently out of his eyes.

His eyes opened slowly mere seconds later, irises glazed with feverish heat. "Isla?"

"Yes, it's me." I murmured, letting one of my palms slide down to curve against his cheek, brushing the pad of my thumb against his hot skin.

He seemed to lean instinctively into my palm, and I stilled when he shifted his head so that his lips pressed themselves fleetingly against my skin. And then it was a different kind of heat altogether, not the feverish kind, but a heart-wrenching, intoxicating kind of warmth that made me catch my breath.

"This means nothing," he whispered. He stared at me; his gaze dark and searching, and I at once knew that he was in no way referring to the kiss. "This means nothing, right?"

It wasn't a rhetorical question. It was one that insisted that I agree, if the echo of desperate pleading in his tone was any indication. But I found myself unable to go along with yet another lie once more, so I simply smiled and leaned down, pressing my lips briefly to his forehead.

"Sleep, Kaden."