“Let’s go,” he ordered, closing his laptop and gathering the loose files from the table. “We’re done for the night. It’s getting late and we’re both tired. We’ll start fresh on Monday.”
“Y—you go ahead,” she said, resting her head against the back of the soft leather chair and closing her eyes. “I just need a minute to finish up here.”
Bullshit. Sensitivity to light. Throbbing temples. He knew a migraine when he saw one. He strode to the door and dimmed the lights. A tiny sigh of relief slipped from her lips, and his suspicions were confirmed.
“Do you get migraines often?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” Olivia moaned, squeezing her eyes shut as tight as humanly possible. “It’s none of your business.”
He watched her struggling with the pain, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant for a moment before making his decision. He needed to help her, whether she liked it or not. She could barely open her eyes. There was no way she was getting home by herself. Stubborn woman. How long had she felt it coming on and sat there working, too proud to call it an early night?
“What I meant to ask was, do you have anything to treat it?” he asked quietly. “A prescription, maybe?”
“It ran out,” she murmured. “Haven’t had time to pick it up.”
Letting instinct take over, he pulled out his phone and dialed the hotel.
“Good evening. Thank you for calling—”
“Hello, James,” he cut in before the concierge could finish his standard spiel. He’d know the guy’s voice anywhere. James was regularly offering his services and checking to see how his stay was going. Personal service seemed to be James’s mission in life, not that he was complaining. “This is Cole Bennett. Listen, I need a favor. Can you have my car brought over to the office immediately?”
“Of course, Mr. Bennett. I’ll make the call myself.”
“Thank you. I’ll meet the valet downstairs in five minutes.” Cole disconnected the call and dropped the phone back in his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Olivia muttered.
“Taking care of you.” He grabbed her laptop and stuffed it into her shoulder bag along with the tablet she’d been scribbling on. He scanned the room for any other personal belongings. “It’s what friends do.”
“We’re not friends.”
He gritted his teeth. They could revisit the topic of their friendship later when she was feeling better. Now certainly wasn’t the time. She was getting paler by the minute. “Fine. Then consider it protection of my investment. You’re a valuable asset, but you’re no good to me like this. Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk out that door alone when you can’t even open your eyes.”
“Don’t worry—”
“Olivia,” Cole started firmly, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “I am driving you home. Please do not argue with me about this. You can walk downstairs yourself or I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you. Your choice.”
“I’ll walk,” she declared, giving him a defiant scowl.
He watched as she pulled herself to her feet using the edge of the table. She looked a little unsteady and weak in the knees. Maybe he should have just insisted on carrying her down to the car. It wasn’t too late.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, as if reading his thoughts. He couldn’t help but grin shamelessly. He’d need to work on his poker face. “Can you grab my coat and purse from my office? I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
He grabbed her things and they rode down to the lobby in silence. Cole ushered her past security with a nod of the head, then out the front door to his waiting car. He tipped the valet and opened the door for Olivia.
“Nice ride,” she mumbled as he tucked her into the passenger seat of his BMW coupe and fastened the seatbelt across her lap.
Cole jogged around the back of the car and slid into the driver’s seat next to her, careful to shut his door as gently as possible to avoid causing her any additional discomfort.
“Where to?”
Olivia rattled off her address in Midtown as he pulled into traffic. They rode in silence, with Cole stealing a sidelong glance at her every few minutes to see how she was holding up. He did his best to watch his speed and avoid jostling the car too much, but he could tell she wasn’t tolerating the ride well. She didn’t complain, but every now and then a little squeak would escape as he braked or hit a bump in the road.
When he pulled up in front of her building and double parked, her renewed protests fell on deaf ears.
“I can get upstairs by myself,” she assured him, pulling her jacket tight around her shoulders to ward off the chilly spring breeze. “You’re going to get a ticket.”