Before Christine could fully process what was happening, she found herself watching Dailey stagger to his feet. But just as quickly, he collapsed against her. She instinctively reached out to support him.
Dailey leaned heavily on her shoulder, his breath hot and alarming against her neck. "Werenât your people supposed to stick with you like glue? How did you end up alone and this feverish?" she asked, hearing his faint voice.
"Take me back to the hotel..." he murmured.
Christine was exasperated. "Youâre not even going to tell me which hotel?" she thought. With no other choice, she dug into his pockets to find his phone. After patting down the pockets of his trousers, she realized he didnât have his phone on him. He was only wearing a white shirt, no jacket. So that meant no phone.
No wonder he hadnât contacted his team. But something didnât add upâthey were supposed to be inseparable. Before she could piece it together, his hand suddenly gripped hers.
"Stop rummaging..."
Christine bit back her frustration. Seeing him delirious, she held her tongue. "Whatâs the name of the hotel?" she asked.
"The Regal Court."
"Really?" she thought. That was her hotel, too. She hoisted his arm over her shoulder and slowly guided him outside. They reached the lobby, but there was no sign of Duke Northwood. Assuming he might be waiting at the entrance, she stepped out of the restaurant, but there was still no sign of him. She took out her phone to call him, only to find his phone was turned off.
Christine was starting to believe the night was full of strange coincidences. Surely, Dailey had the means to arrange things differently... "Iâm cold, Chris..." Dailey mumbled.
With a resigned sigh, Christine flagged down a cab and took Dailey back to their hotel. Once there, she faced another hurdle: he didnât have his room key, and the front desk required identification. "Heâs Dailey, a guest here. Could you make an exception and swipe us in?" she pleaded with the receptionist.
"Iâm sorry, maâam," the receptionist replied. "As a high-end establishment, we must ensure our guestsâ privacy and security. Without identification, we cannot grant access."
Dailey might have been influential elsewhere, but here his name held no sway. Left with no alternative, Christine led him to her room. She laid him on the bed, intending to fetch a cold towel and medicine. But as she turned to leave, he caught her wrist and pulled her onto the bed.
Christineâs eyes narrowed. "Feigning illness, are we? Just for some... company?"
"No... itâs the medicine," he rasped.
Christine squinted at him. "Mr. Clarkson, are you sure this isnât just another one of your schemes?"
"Itâs not..."
She nodded, "I should take you to the hospital then. They can treat youâit doesnât have to be... intimate."
Dailey held her fast. "I canât go to the hospital."
"Then give me Primoâs number. Iâll call him to handle this."
"Primo is in Africa."
"You still have four others," she pointed out.
Dailey clung to her, burying his face in her neck. "Help me..."
"Sheâs sick."
Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson)
ï¤Chapter 882 His Charming Wife ï¤Chapter 10 Dominant Boss: Call Me Hubby, My Dear ï¤Chapter 250 Finn Shows up Amidst Many Obstructions "You said youâd save a stranger too, that it wasnât just for me," Christine retorted.