Chapter 19
Myra snuggled deeper into the comforting embrace, adjusting her position until she fell into a peaceful, deep sleep once again. Meanwhile, Philip watched in disbelief. The man who was always the least interested in women in their friend group was now gently cradling a woman in his arms. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have sworn he had stumbled into a dream.
“Tony, I’m going to give her an injection,” Philip announced, holding up a syringe filled with medicine. But Tony’s expression immediately darkened.
“She’s running a fever,” Tony explained tersely, his tone sharp. “This is the quickest way to get it down.”
Philip hesitated, clearly unnerved. He gulped and cautiously lowered the syringe. The intensity in Tony’s gaze made him realize that if anything happened to Myra, he might be in for a world of trouble. “I’m just giving her an injection! I’m not going to hurt her!” he thought to himself. The protective aura radiating from Tony was so strong that it felt like he might physically harm him if he wasn’t careful.
Tony, still cradling Myra gently, shifted her slightly to make room for the injection. After the needle was quickly administered, Myra’s body tensed in response, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she stiffened in his arms. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, and the tension was palpable. Tony’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression cold and distant as he watched her.
Philip, drenched in cold sweat, was visibly nervous. After administering the shot and offering some brief instructions to Tony, he practically bolted from the apartment, eager to escape the thick tension. Once outside, he pulled out his phone and immediately sent a photo he had sneakily taken of Tony and Myra to their group chat.
The responses were quick and numerous.
“Wow! Is this the woman Tony has a crush on?” Elliot typed, his curiosity piqued.
“Most probably,” Philip replied, a hint of humor in his voice. “He treasures her so much that he almost sentenced me to death when I was giving her the shot.”
“This is insane! Quick, send a full picture of her!” Elliot responded eagerly.
Lucas added his two cents, “I bet he doesn’t have the guts to take a picture of her face. But Miss Stark does look familiar…”
Philip agreed, though he couldn’t place why Myra’s face seemed so familiar. After a final glance at Tony’s apartment, he shook his head and slipped his phone back into his pocket before leaving.
Back in the bedroom, Tony remained still, his gaze softening as he looked at Myra, who was nestled closer to him in her sleep. He chuckled quietly to himself, a hoarse sound that filled the room. He had thought that after two years, he would be able to forget her. But as soon as he returned, it became clear that she was the reason he came back. His feelings for her hadn’t faded—they had only grown stronger.
He gazed at her affectionately, his heart swelling with longing. The moments from earlier, when she had fumbled with his pockets for the keys or when their accidental kiss had made his pulse race, replayed in his mind. He could barely hold himself back.
Lowering his head, he kissed her gently on the forehead, his voice barely a whisper as he murmured, “I won’t let you leave me this time.”
The next morning, Myra woke with a start. The unfamiliar ceiling above her made her disoriented. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting soft light over the room, its vintage style strikingly different from the decor in her own home. The bed was unusually soft, and the room around her was neat but devoid of any feminine touches.
Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to piece together the events of the previous night. She turned and saw the arrangement of the room—the simplicity of it all—and slowly, the memories began to return. Her eyes widened in realization.
This wasn’t her room.
“After I sent Tony back to his apartment, didn’t I leave?” Myra thought to herself, a deep sense of panic creeping in. What had happened?
Her mind raced as she pulled the blanket off her body, only to realize she was wearing an unfamiliar set of pajamas. The dress she had worn the night before was nowhere to be found. Her mind struggled to make sense of the situation.
At that moment, the door creaked open and an older woman entered the room. She was in her fifties, dressed in a neat uniform. Upon seeing Myra awake, the woman let out a relieved sigh and approached her, placing a set of clothes beside the bed.
“Miss Stark, you’re finally awake. I’m Mrs. Somerfields, Mr. Tony’s maid. Last night you had a fever, so Mr. Tony asked me to take care of you. Here are your clothes,” the woman explained kindly, her tone warm and professional.
Myra, still stunned, pointed at the pajamas she was wearing, her voice shaky as she stuttered, “T-This… these pajamas I’m wearing…”