Jay stormed through the empty streets, his coat whipping behind him as frustration roiled in his chest. You had crossed the line this time. For weeks, your companies had been locked in a ruthless battle, and today, he had finally discovered why his deal had fallen through at the last second. You.

It had to be you.

You weren’t reckless, but you were relentless. He should have seen it coming. Should have been prepared. And now, he wanted answers.

When he reached your apartment, he didn’t hesitate. His fist slammed against the door.

Once. Twice. Again.

No answer.

His patience was razor-thin. “Open the door, now.” His voice was sharp, demanding, ready for confrontation.

Nothing.

Something felt off. He knocked again, harder this time, but just as he was about to lose what little restraint he had left, the door creaked open.

Jay stilled.

You stood there, gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your face was paler than he had ever seen it, your lips dry, your sharp, calculating eyes hazy and unfocused. There was no triumphant smirk, no clever remark. Just exhaustion.

“What the hell—”

Before he could finish, your body gave out.

His instincts kicked in as you collapsed forward, and he caught you before you hit the ground. Your weight against him was alarmingly light, your forehead burning hot against his collarbone. Fever. A bad one.

Jay cursed under his breath. The anger that had driven him here, the fire that had been ready to tear into you—it all shifted into something else.

“You’re the worst,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words, only exasperation.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he adjusted his grip and carried you inside, already forgetting why he had come in the first place.