Melting Liam De Sallow: A Billionaire Christmas Romance by Coniglio Harper

Author:Coniglio, Harper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Liam

The cursor blinks on my screen like a mocking metronome, each flash a taunt against my exhaustion-blurred vision. My fingers press against my temples, desperately trying to massage away the jackhammer pounding inside my skull. The office air feels thick and stale, heavy with the weight of too many hours spent staring at spreadsheets.

"Just a couple more hours and I'm done," I whisper to myself, knowing it's a lie even as the words leave my lips.

A gentle knock interrupts my fantasy of collapsing onto the office couch. Claire peeks her head in, her face etched with concern, her brown eyes scanning my disheveled state.

"Liam, it's past midnight. You need to get some sleep," she says, her voice soft but firm.

"What are you still doing here?" My words come out rougher than intended.

"I'm worried. I didn't want to leave you alone. You don't look well," she replies with a small shrug.

I wave my hand dismissively, as if shooing away an invisible fly. The numbers on my screen dance and blur, mocking my attempts to focus.

"I'm fine," I lie through my teeth. "Just need to review these last figures, then I'll rest. I'll crash at the apartment next to the office tonight."

"You look like you're about to pass out," Claire insists. "You've been working for too many hours straight."

"I pay you to be my personal assistant, not my nurse or my babysitter," I snap, feeling an irrational surge of irritation. "The sooner you leave me alone, the sooner I can finish and rest."

"Someone has to care about your health because you clearly don't," she fires back, her voice steady.

"I decide when to stop," I growl as another spike of pain shoots through my temples. "I don't need your opinion."

Claire looks at me and slowly shakes her head, her eyes gleaming with a mix of worry and determination.

"You're my boss, but I can't help caring. Working yourself to exhaustion won't help anyone. The company and its employees won't benefit if you end up in the hospital tonight."

"Get out, please, and let me work," I order. "I'm fine."

"At least call me if you need anything," she persists. "I'll be at my desk until you go to sleep."

I choose not to respond, preserving what little energy I have left. When I'm feeling better, I'll remind my personal assistant that when I give an order, it's meant to be followed.

"Focus a little more," I scold myself, blinking hard in an attempt to clear my vision.

The screen's glow burns my eyes despite the dimmed brightness. Each keystroke feels like a hammer to my skull. I stand to stretch my legs, and the room spins dangerously.

"Maybe some sleep would help," I mumble, finally surrendering to exhaustion and dropping onto the couch for what I tell myself will be just a quick rest.

I jolt awake. The computer screen is dark, a silent reminder of lost time. Disoriented, I check my phone, its light blinding me. Two in the morning. Shit.

Dazed, I try to stand, but the room rocks like a ship in a storm.

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