Intrigued by the CEO: Paranoid Obsessions

Thinking back to those three days in the forest, Harper didn’t want to go through starvation and dehydration again.

Apart from enduring, what else could she do? Harper closed her eyes in resignation.

A pained groan echoed above her head. “Uh-”

Harper opened her eyes to find Blaze collapsed on top of her. His face buried in her shoulder, she couldn’t see his expression, but she could see his face turning pale.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harper asked, puzzled.

“Nothing, Uh…” Blaze gritted his teeth, pushing himself off her and stumbling towards the bathroom, clutching his stomach.

“…” Harper was bewildered as she sat up on the couch. Her gaze fell on the tub of ice cream on the floor, and suddenly, it all made sense.

After devouring 20 tubs of ice cream, his body finally had a reaction?

“Ugh-” Blaze’s voice echoed once again.

Harper furrowed her brow, quickly stepping over. The faucet was turned on full blast, water gushing out with a loud “whoosh.” Blaze continued to retch into the sink. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead, and he pressed his stomach with one hand.

“Are you okay?” Harper asked, approaching him.

“Shit! I’m not okay! Ugh-”

Seeing him in such a state, Harper knew it was serious. “I’ll go get Mr. Foster to take you to the hospital,” she said, turning to leave.

But before she could take a step, she heard a loud “thud” behind her.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Turning back, she saw Blaze sitting on the floor. His head rested against the cabinet below the sink, his face pale.

Harper crouched beside Blaze. “Here, let me help you up,” she said softly.

“Don’t touch me!” Blaze’s voice was feeble, one hand still pressed against his stomach. “I feel… awful…” He looked more like a sick child in need of care.

Harper’s hand hesitated in midair for a moment before gently patting his back, comforting him like a child. “It’s okay, you’ll feel better soon.”

Blaze stared at her steadily, sweat beading on his forehead.

Crouching beside him, Harper moved her hand to his stomach and began to massage it gently. “This will help, it’ll feel better soon.”

“Uh…” Blaze grunted softly, leaning towards her suddenly.

Instinctively, Harper tried to move back, but he pulled her closer. He nestled into her embrace, his head resting on her shoulder like a child.

“…” Was he really in pain, or just pretending?

Harper paused, Blaze’s hand covering hers. “Keep going, Harper,” he said softly.

His hand was cold, chilling like ice, causing Harper to shiver.

Blaze leaned against her shoulder, his voice weak. “Why are your hands… shaking?” He tightly grasped her hand, sweat trickling down his temples, “I know… what you’re… thinking,” he said, his voice filled with pain.

“What?”

“Your fingers… are sensitive. Every time I touch them, every kiss, you tremble,” Blaze said weakly. His large hand enveloped hers, “I noticed it when I fucked you in the bathhouse last time.”

Harper was utterly dumbfounded. Despite his current condition, he was thinking about such things?

“Fingers are sensitive… you’re really a lascivious woman,” Blaze mocked, letting out a sarcastic chuckle, “Did it feel good when I fucked you?” he asked.

‘This man… was truly out of his mind!’ Harper was enraged. She pushed him with all her might, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

“You’re outrageous!” Harper stood up from the ground, glaring at him with disdain. But Blaze lay on the ground, his eyes tightly shut.

Had he passed out?

“Mr. Foster!” Harper immediately shouted. Blaze seemed to be in serious condition.

This night was destined to be anything but peaceful.

In just ten short minutes, Harper witnessed Dylan’s remarkable efficiency. He swiftly had Blaze taken to the nearest hospital, accompanied by a team of bodyguards and Blaze’s personal medical team.

The entire top floor of the hospital was sealed off, and all medical staff were briefed to maintain top-level confidentiality.

Just ten minutes.

Harper was impressed, standing in the corridor unsure of how to react.

“Master is not an ordinary person. He usually undergoes regular check-ups at private hospitals. But today is a special circumstance, so we had to bring him to the hospital. We must ensure that news of his illness does not leak out,” Dylan explained.

It made sense.

Blaze was the CEO of N. E International Group. If news got out that he was sick, it could cause a media frenzy and potentially affect N. E’s stock market.

“I won’t leak anything. I’m off,” Harper nodded respectfully to Dylan before leaving.

Blaze’s test results had come out; he had acute gastroenteritis. Considering he had eaten 20 tubs of ice cream without getting a perforated stomach, gastroenteritis was a minor issue.

“Just a moment,” Dylan stopped her. “Miss Shaw, you should accompany Master in the hospital room.”

“Why?” Harper asked, puzzled.

“Master’s been calling your name while unconscious. I think he really needs your company,” Dylan said apologetically, glancing at her. “If he wakes up and doesn’t see you, I’m afraid he’ll be furious.”

Blaze’s temper…

“He called my name?” Harper looked at him in disbelief. How could Blaze be calling her name while unconscious? She wasn’t someone important to him. In his eyes, she was just a pretentious liar.

“Yes. Miss Shaw, this way,” Dylan motioned for Harper to enter the hospital room.

The room was luxuriously furnished, with all the amenities one could imagine, akin to a presidential suite.

On the oversized European-style bed, Blaze lay receiving intravenous fluids. He was asleep, at this moment, Blaze lacked his usual aggression and didn’t resemble a paranoid.

Undeniably handsome, he surpassed the average person’s looks. Sometimes, Harper couldn’t find a single flaw in his appearance, as if he had stepped out of one of her comic book drawings.

“Harper… Harper…” Blaze’s lips parted slightly, his voice soft but clear in the quiet hospital room.

Harper was stunned. He really was calling her name while unconscious. Why?

Could it be… he actually… like her?

“You see, Miss Shaw, I told you Master feels differently about you,” Dylan said with a smile.

“Harper… Harper…” Blaze’s fingers twitched beside him. He furrowed his brows, murmuring, “Harper, keep massaging.”

Even in his unconscious state, his voice sounded commanding.

Massage?…

Dylan fell silent…

Harper fell silent…

It was absurd. Harper almost thought Blaze was calling her name in his sleep because he liked her. But then again, he was Blaze. If it weren’t for him mistakenly thinking she’d had his child, he probably wouldn’t have spared her a glance.

With that thought, Harper sighed.

“Mr. Foster, can I leave now?” she turned to Dylan.

“Of course,” Dylan looked apologetic as he nodded.

Harper hurriedly left the room.

Dylan glanced at Blaze on the bed, furrowed,” Could it be that I had overthought? But Master had never hurriedly flown in just for a scoop of ice cream…”

…

At 2 a. m., Harper returned home.

The residents were gathered in small groups, discussing the helicopter that landed on the rooftop in the middle of the night. Her name even floated through the conversation.

Harper hurriedly donned her coat and hat, rushing past them into the building, afraid of being stopped and questioned. She couldn’t possibly tell them that the world-renowned Blaze Wychwood had landed helicopters on the rooftop in the dead of night just to eat a tub of ice cream. That was the truth, but who would believe it? She couldn’t help but wonder how she had managed to get involved with Blaze.

Her phone was fully charged.

Harper grabbed her phone, switching it on as she headed for the bedroom, flopping onto the bed.

Her phone’s system was designed by N. E.

The N. E. Group’s phone system was undeniably flawless, like a butler, meticulously organizing every piece of data. But for a lonely person like Harper, it felt like mockery.

As she powered on her phone, she was greeted with a message on the screen:

“Dear Master, during your absence of 390 hours and 25 minutes, you have received 5 text messages, 5 of which are spam. There is also 1 missed call. Would you like to call back?”

Harper sighed. Disappearing for so long, and only 5 texts, all junk, and just one missed call. Glancing at the missed call, the number seemed familiar, perhaps one of her blind date prospects. Blind dates? She didn’t have the mood for that now.

She scrolled through, seeing numerous Slack messages urging her to hurry up and create a new comic.

Placing the phone aside, Harper stared at the ceiling, feeling desolate.

How lonely she was…

Her world had always revolved around Logan and her comics.

She gave up Logan.

She hadn’t created anything new in her comics.

What did she have left?

Nothing.

She turned over, burying her face in the soft covers, hiding all her vulnerabilities…

The next day.

Sunlight filtered through the closed curtains, casting a faint glow.

Harper slept soundly. Even in her dreams, her brows were furrowed, as if carrying an unresolved sadness.

Her phone suddenly vibrated, breaking the silence with its ringtone.

“Shit!!”

Harper was awakened by the loud noise, rubbing her messy hair as she sat up. She picked up her phone and the unfriendly roar almost pierced her eardrum.

“Hey!”

“Mr. Wychwood?” He was already awake? And he had her number?

“You dare to run? You made me go to the hospital and you dare to run? You must be asking for trouble.”