The Cherished Wife

At the top of The Majestic Lounge was a room that belonged to Charles alone. He swung the door open and carried Noelle in.
She was feeling so awful that she hung onto Charles like she was trying to meld into him, her limbs all over the place with nary a
hint of elegance.
He managed to detach Noelle from himself with a bit of a struggle and gently placed her in the bathroom. Taking a deep breath,
he dialed Ronald’s number. "I need ice, and make it quick."
Once he ended the call, he saw Noelle trying to get out of the tub. He gently but firmly pushed her back down and turned on the
cold tap. "Stay still!"
His voice was firm and grew even more intense as he noticed how the water in the tub accentuated her figure. His gaze
sharpened.
Ronald was fast, arriving shortly with two buckets of ice. "Here's the ice, sir."
"Hold on," Charles instructed Ronald. "Just set them down and leave, thanks." His tone was cool and detached.
Ronald raised an eyebrow at Charles's unusual sternness. However, he kept his thoughts to himself and left as told.
Once alone, Charles brought the ice buckets into the bathroom.
Noelle was submerged in the icy water, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her mind was still foggy, and Charles's expression was
grim.
Noelle was burning up inside, feeling like she was on the brink of collapse. The icy water was a harsh contrast to that,
enveloping her in a torturous chill. She squirmed in agony, but Charles's hands kept her steady, and his voice cut through the
haze. "Hang in there. It'll pass soon."
...
Noelle's eyes fluttered open, her body feeling sore and like it had forgotten how to function. She lay still, gazing up at the stark
white ceiling. As the fog in her brain slowly lifted, the memories of last night started to play like a movie in her head.
Her face drained of color as panic flickered across her features. She flung off the covers and was relieved to find herself in
pajamas, untouched. Still, that aching... where did it come from?
"You're awake?" A chilly voice cut through the silence, and Noelle's head whipped toward the door. There she saw a man clad in
cool elegance and fancy threads who was obviously not your average Joe. His face was so drop-dead gorgeous that even a
beauty queen would swoon at him.

Noelle's brow creased in confusion. She did not know this man. As the reality of her situation hit her, she blurted out, "Who are
you?" Her voice sounded so harsh and grating that it scared her. The words came out as a dry, quacking mess.
Charles arched an eyebrow, not bothering with an answer. He strolled over, poured her a glass of water, and handed it to her
with smooth and elegant hands.
Noelle was taken aback for a second but then grabbed the glass, downing the water with an eagerness that bordered on
uncouth. Once the glass was empty, she eyed Charles suspiciously. "Are you the one who rescued me?"
He did not say yes or no, but Noelle let out a relieved breath. "Okay. Thanks for whatever you did last night." She glanced down
at her clothes, a silent question hanging in the air, and her expression turned to one of confusion. However, her gratitude
remained evident despite the puzzlement.
Charles's gaze landed softly on Noelle's face, his mind replaying her stunning presence from the night before and stirring
something within him. "It’s all good, Ms. Shaw. Don’t worry about it," he said, sidestepping the potential embarrassment with a
smooth deflection.
Noelle bit her lip, fighting the urge to say more. She would have to deal with the fallout and act like this whole mess never
happened. Then, it hit her. "How did you find out my last name is Shaw?"
"Surprised? There's been a lot of buzz about a Ms. Shaw today. Have you not heard?" Charles said, casually fiddling with his
cufflinks, looking the picture of cool.
Noelle's face drained of color. "What... What are you talking about?"
"There are many versions of your story. Which one do you want to hear?"
"Who are you, really? And what do you want from me?"