My contract love story

Frustration simmered beneath the surface as Adrian tackled his work. He made calls, barked orders, and even slammed his laptop shut in irritation. Mr. Turner, ever cautious, kept his distance. Anything he did seemed to further irritate his already volatile boss.

Despite the laser focus on his tasks, Adrian couldn’t shake Ashleigh’s words. Her accusations about his contribution to her workload echoed in his mind, successfully evoking a pang of guilt. The shrill ring of the phone shattered his concentration. He glared at Mr. Turner, who held the phone out with a questioning look.

“Sir, it’s Dr. Brooke, Ashleigh’s tutor,” Turner announced.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Answer it and hand it over,” Adrian instructed, snatching the phone from Turner’s grasp.

“Mr. Cagliari, good afternoon. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” Dr. Brooke’s voice came through the line. “Your secretary mentioned you were unavailable.”

“Yes, Dr. Brooke, business has been demanding lately,” Adrian explained, omitting his earlier instructions to block the tutor’s calls. Anger at Ashleigh’s refusal to quit her job had clouded his judgment. He’d assumed she had everything under control, negating the need to monitor her studies. Now, it seemed he was sorely mistaken.

“Well, I’m glad I finally caught you,” Dr. Brooke continued. “The exams started today, and I was calling to check on Ashleigh.”

“I’m afraid Ashleigh won’t be taking the exam,” Adrian informed her, a heavy silence following his words. “She’s been ill and is currently recuperating.”

“That’s terrible news,” Dr. Brooke sighed. “Ashleigh was incredibly invested in this opportunity. She prepared rigorously for our sessions and made remarkable progress in such a short time.”

“The poor girl practically toiled away,” Dr. Brooke continued, her voice tinged with disappointment. “She’d have me repeat possible questions and rehearse answers endlessly. That kind of determination is exactly what Robin College seeks in their students. Honestly, she would have been a perfect candidate for the scholarship.”

“Aren’t there other exam opportunities?” Adrian inquired, a glimmer of hope flickering.

“Didn’t Ashleigh mention it?” Dr. Brooke replied. “Robin College prides itself on being an elite institution. They only hold examinations once a year. She could try next year, but that puts her at a disadvantage. The applicant pool will only grow, and frankly, her age might work against her as well. They typically accept students between 17 and 21.”

Dr. Brooke’s words hung heavy in the air, leaving Adrian speechless. This new information only compounded the situation.

Dr. Brooke’s parting words hung heavy in the air. “Mr. Cagliari, I hope you’re supporting her during this. Especially since she lacked your support during her preparations, it took a toll on her.”

Adrian gritted his teeth. “If that’s all, Dr. Brooke. Good day.”

He ended the call, throwing it to Mr. Turner who fumbled to catch it.

“Get Mr. Atkinson in here, now,” Adrian barked, frustration coloring his voice.

Atkinson, the ever-efficient butler, appeared moments later. “You called for me, sir?”

Tell me about the past two weeks,” Adrian demanded, his voice clipped.

“How did Ashleigh manage?”

Atkinson cleared his throat. “Mrs. Cagliari struggled with the workload, sir. She even decided to hire an assistant to help her while she was at work.”

“Even then,” he continued, shaking his head, “after her studies, she’d call Susan every night. Checking in, asking about the day’s events, staff issues, giving instructions for the next day. Despite it all, her books never faltered. Her aunt eventually had to grant her leave because her work performance suffered.”

Adrian listened intently, a knot tightening in his stomach with every word.

“Susan did her best, sir,” Atkinson went on, “but Mrs. Cagliari is a determined woman. She did what she felt she had to do, even resorting to consuming large quantities of your strong coffee brew to stay alert.”

Adrian stared, a jolt of shock coursing through him. That explained the excessive caffeine. His special brew, designed for his late nights, was the culprit behind Ashleigh’s late-night study sessions. Guilt gnawed at him as he realized the lengths she’d gone to, the sacrifices she’d made for her dream. Dr. Brooke’s call, coupled with this new revelation, painted a stark picture of his own shortcomings.

“Thank you, Mr. Atkinson,” he finally managed, his voice tight. “You may go. And see to it that all caffeinated products are removed from the storage. My personal brew is to be handed over to Mr. Turner.”

Atkinson nodded curtly and left the room. The afternoon wore on, punctuated by the scratch of Adrian’s pen as he dealt with minor tasks. But guilt gnawed at him, a relentless current pulling him towards Ashleigh. Finally, unable to sit still any longer, he decided to check on her.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose from his desk, instructing Mr. Turner to meet with Atkinson before closing for the day. With a cold resolve etched on his face, he headed towards his room. A quick change into a pair of gray pajamas later, he emerged, his hair slightly ruffled. He looked handsome, despite the determined glint in his eyes. The soft click of his slippers echoed down the hallway as he reached Ashleigh’s door, his hand hovering over the knob.

A muffled conversation drifted from inside. It was Susan, pleading with Ashleigh. “Mrs. Ashleigh, you have to eat something. Your medication is long overdue, and you promised to eat after your nap.”

Ashleigh’s voice, weak and devoid of enthusiasm, replied, “I’m not hungry, Susan. I already told you.”

Adrian entered the room just as Susan attempted to coax a reluctant Ashleigh to eat. “You’re not on IV fluids, are you?” he inquired, startling Susan with his unexpected presence.

Ashleigh turned, her body stiff, to see him standing beside Susan. Susan dipped her head in a brief greeting, while Adrian frowned at the tray in her hands.

” Potatoes and lamb? That’s hardly suitable for someone recovering,” he said coldly.

“Mr. Atkinson didn’t brief you on what Ashleigh needs?”

Susan stammered, “S-sir, I was informed, but I thought this might be more to Mrs. Cagliari’s liking.”

“It’s not about personal preferences,” Adrian countered sharply. “You follow instructions.”

Susan, clearly flustered, could only nod in agreement.

“Adrian, it’s alright,” Ashleigh interjected weakly. “She was just trying to be helpful.”

He turned to her, his gaze unwavering. “Why wouldn’t she follow instructions? You do the same when it suits you. Here you are, refusing the food you need to recover properly.”

He gestured towards Susan. “Go, tell the kitchen to prepare a light porridge for Mrs. Cagliari.” Susan nodded and hurried out of the room.

“I already said I’m not hungry,” Ashleigh insisted, watching him approach the bed.

“Starving yourself out of anger won’t solve anything,” he stated.

“If you want things to improve, you need to focus on getting well.”

A flicker of hope sparked in Ashleigh’s eyes. “What do you mean by ‘improve’?”

“What I said,” he replied.

“This opportunity for Robin College is still within reach, but only if you cooperate.”

“Every time I’ve done that, it’s ended in regret,” she countered, her voice laced with bitterness.

He leaned to meet her gaze, his eyes holding hers captive. Her heart, already amped from the residual caffeine, pounded in her chest, a drum solo only she could hear. His large hands reached out and cupped her face, gently tilting it upwards.

“This time will be different,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

“You won’t have regrets.” The intensity in his gaze sent a flush creeping up her cheeks, a stark contrast to the feverish pallor that had lingered earlier that morning.

A hesitant smile touched his lips. “You look a little better than this morning, at least.”

Author’s note:How are you enjoying the book so far?