Later that evening, the room was quiet. Huldah had ushered the family out, leaving Charls "alone time" with his "fiancée."
Charls sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, scrolling through emails on his phone with one hand.
"You're working," Eve stated. It wasn't an accusation, just an observation.
"Someone has to pay for this private suite," Charls muttered without looking up.
"You're so responsible," Eve sighed dreamily.
Charls paused. He looked at her. "Eve, stop. You don't have to do... this."
"Do what?"
"Act like I'm a hero. I'm Charls Wiley. I tried to hostile takeover your company three months ago."
Eve waved a hand dismissively. "Foreplay."
Charls dropped his phone. "Excuse me?"
"That was just our way of flirting," Eve explained confidently. "We're both alpha personalities. We express passion through conflict. My therapist would say it's unhealthy, but look at us now."
She gestured between them.
Charls stared at her. Her logic was terrifyingly sound, in a twisted way. She had rewritten their entire history to fit her narrative.
"Right," Charls said dryly. "Flirting."
"Charls," Eve's voice turned serious. "Come sit on the bed. Please? You're so far away."
"I'm fine here."
"Please? My head hurts."
The guilt card. She was playing dirty.
Charls groaned and stood up. He walked over and perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, leaving a foot of space between them.
"Closer," Eve commanded.
He scooted an inch closer.
Eve reached out and rested her head on his good shoulder. She let out a long, contented sigh.
Charls stiffened. His muscles were tense, ready to bolt. But she smelled like vanilla and antiseptic. Her hair tickled his neck. Her weight against him felt... grounding.
"I was so scared," Eve whispered. "When I woke up and didn't know where I was... I was terrified. Until I saw you."
Charls felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He was lying to her. He was using her.
"Eve..." he started, his voice softer.
"I know I'm difficult," she continued. "I know I work too much. But I promise, I'm going to be a better wife. I'm going to make you happy."
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.
Charls looked into those brown eyes. He saw honesty there. Vulnerability. Things Eve Franks never showed the world.
He realized then that he didn't know her at all. He knew the CEO. He didn't know the woman.
"You're not difficult," Charls found himself saying. "You're... impressive."
Eve smiled. "Kiss me."
Charls panicked. "What?"
"Kiss me. Doctor's orders. To help my memory."
"The doctor definitely did not say that."
"Please?" She pouted.
Charls looked at her lips. They were pale, slightly chapped.
He leaned in slowly. He told himself it was just to keep the cover. Just a peck.
He brushed his lips against hers. It was light, tentative.
Eve hummed and pressed into him, deepening the kiss.
A shockwave went through Charls. It wasn't cold. It wasn't calculated. It was electric. Her lips were soft, yielding.
He pulled back abruptly, breathless. His heart was pounding.
Eve kept her eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips. "See? I told you we had chemistry."
Charls stared at her, terrified. Because she was right.
The next morning, Dr. Hamilton arrived with a team of specialists.
"Good morning, Ms. Franks," Dr. Hamilton said, shining a light into her eyes. "How is the memory today?"
"Better," Eve said cheerfully. "I remember I hate hospital food. And I remember I love him." She pointed at Charls, who was drinking coffee in the corner.
Charls choked on his coffee.
"Right," Dr. Hamilton noted something on his chart. "Ms. Franks, do you know who the President is?"
"Yes," she answered correctly.
"Do you remember when you got engaged?"
Eve paused. Her brow furrowed. "Christmas. Last year. In Aspen."
Charls looked up. Last Christmas, he had been in Dubai. Eve had been in Aspen... with Andre. She was grafting her memories of Andre onto him. He felt a flash of irritation. He wasn't just playing a role; he was a stand-in for another man in her fractured mind. A placeholder.
"Interesting," Dr. Hamilton said. "This is called confabulation. Your brain is filling in the gaps with plausible scenarios to avoid the stress of the void."
"It's not a scenario," Eve insisted, offended. "It happened. We drank hot cocoa by the fire."
She looked at Charls for confirmation. "Right, honey?"
Charls set his cup down. The plastic clattered against the table. "Sure. Cocoa."
The nurse stepped forward with a tray. "Time for your anti-inflammatory shot, Ms. Franks."
Eve saw the needle and went pale. She shrank back against the pillows.
"No," she whimpered. "I hate needles."
"It will just be a pinch," the nurse said.
"Charls!" Eve cried out. She reached her hand out blindly toward him. "Hold my hand!"
Charls hesitated. He saw the genuine fear in her eyes. The Iron Lady of Franks Enterprises was afraid of a little needle.
He walked over and took her hand.
Eve gripped it with surprising strength. Her nails dug into his palm.
"Look at me," Charls said, his voice dropping to a soothing baritone. "Don't look at the needle. Look at me."
Eve locked eyes with him. Her breathing was shallow.
"Tell me about the merger," she gasped. "Distract me."
"The merger?" Charls smirked. "You mean the one where I crushed you on the logistics bid?"
"You got lucky," Eve shot back, a spark of her old self appearing.
"Done," the nurse said.
Eve blinked. "Oh. That wasn't so bad."
She didn't let go of his hand. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, tracing the veins.
"Thank you, Hubby," she whispered.
Charls felt the tips of his ears burn. "Stop calling me that."
"Make me," she challenged.
Dr. Hamilton cleared his throat. "Well, the swelling is going down. If this continues, you can be discharged in two days."
"Great," Eve beamed. "Then I can go home. To our home."
Charls froze. "Our home?"
"Well, I can't go to my place," Eve said. "Silas said it's being... renovated. So I'll stay with you."
Charls looked at Huldah, who was standing by the door. Huldah gave him a thumbs up.
Charls closed his eyes. He was going to live with her. In his sanctuary. His bachelor pad.
This was going to be hell.