The billionaire's sweet editor
Chapter 21: Lucas: Sleepyhead

Chapter 21: Lucas: Sleepyhead

ALL NIGHT my ass. By the time Tim was done cooking dinner, I was barely able to contain my sleep. Iris had to feed me like a baby because I kept dozing off mid-eating.

If it wasn’t for her and Paul, I’m pretty sure I’d have slept in my car today or, better yet, in my office. After she asked me whether she was my first girlfriend or not, I faked sleeping on my desk, not about to reveal my secret to her and she left me alone, probably thinking I needed the sleep.

Turns out she was right. I ended up napping on my desk and completely forgetting I had magazines to check out until it was too late and Iris and Paul were waking me up saying we had to leave the office. Throughout the ride to her place and half of mine, I kept dozing off, until we arrived at mine and Tim encouraged me to take a cold shower.

The cold shower worked wonders and I thought I was finally awake then, that I could do some proper research with Iris and come up with viable solutions. I wasn’t entirely wrong. We did do research. But only for an hour.

Like always, Iris wowed me with things I already know by using that unique work perspective of hers. By the time I started feeling sleepy again, she had laid down a few pointers crucial to the development of the magazine, all under one point—effective marketing.

"There are many points that we need to dig into one by one, that’s why I proposed you give each respective department their work so we can focus on what matters to our department and trust the teamwork for better results," she lamented, flipping the pages in her notepad and writing something down.

Her words made sense and at that moment I wished I had the same mentality—but I don’t. I want to make sure that errors are avoided at all costs. If this is going to work before the event happens, I must be a pivotal part of the process.

To keep my peace with Iris though, I agreed with her. "Mhmm, I’ll do that."

"Good. Now let’s go and eat before Tim loses his voice calling us."

That’s when it started again. The drowsiness I mean. My eyelashes felt like they were made of steel and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I managed to drag myself to the kitchen, sitting on the stool and laying my head on the counter, before dozing off there.

"Lucas, wake up and eat," Iris commanded, already chewing her food, but my body wouldn’t allow me.

"Lucas!" She patted my back and I groaned, pushing myself away from her. I don’t know if it was my groaning or my actions that made her lose it because the next moment, my face was in her hands as Tim supported her with opening my mouth, both of them helping each other to stuff my mouth with baked potatoes and whatever was in the meal.

The only task I had to do was chewing, and when I couldn’t chew anymore, they let me rest. After that, I don’t know what else happened, except the fact that I’m half awake now, lying in my dimly lit bedroom.

The sleep has subsided by now and I feel more rejuvenated. I can pull that all-nighter no doubt, if the time allows that is. Jumping out of bed and stretching my sore muscles, I check the time.

11:00 PM. Still enough time for me to do research.

Pulling the sheets off my legs, I make my way downstairs to get myself a glass of water. The first thing that grabs my ear’s attention is the clicking sounds of a keyboard echoing in the lobby from wherever down the corridor.

I immediately know Iris is still up, pulling the all-nighter like she promised she would because Tim never types anything and Paul, well, he values his sleep more than anything when the days are less busy like right now.

The last thing I expect to see when I step into the living room is all three of them huddled around the glass table, Paul and Tim on one side and Iris on the other with cake, coffee, juice, sweets, and utensils scattered all over the table. They look focused, Iris mostly, the other two seem to be enjoying watching her focus.

"What is going on here?" I ask, crouching next to Iris, interested in whatever meeting is going on, but they all scoot away from me.

Iris half-closes her laptop and glares at me. "Never peek at an author’s first draft, ever!" She hisses at me, chin tipped up.

"Sorry," I back away, raising both hands in surrender. "But what’s going on here?"

"These guys offered to be my muses," Iris beams at them.

"Your what?"

"Muses. I’ve had writer’s block for a month now, and since it’s illegal to kidnap people and force them to act out my scenes for me, I kindly asked these two and they agreed to act out some scenes for my side characters."

Oh. "I thought you lost your previous work," I mumble before biting my tongue when I remember how it made her cry last time. It would suck to be the reason she wails after such a good day.

Not cool, Lucas.

"I did, but I had backed it up so I’m good."

"That’s very astute of you Miss Iris. You deserve one of my famous curries," Tim commends her. He never says that to just anyone, which is all the confirmation I need to know he likes Iris.

"Please, call me Iris."

"Pardon my insolence," Tim says in a posh-sounding fake British accent swerving his hand at her in a rather cute move. Sometimes I wonder if he’s gay, but I know better than to ask him that. My dad tried once, and it didn’t end well.

"You should visit again, Iris," Paul cuts in, grinning at her, "Tim makes the best curry I’ve ever tasted in the world."

He’s right about that. Tim told me it was a family recipe he would share with my wife when I asked him to teach me. He never skips the chance to boast about his Indian roots whenever someone comments on his curries, and with how his hand just rested on his chest a while ago, it’s about to begin.

"It’s a hundred-year-old recipe that has been passed down for generations in my family. My grandmother-"

"Your grandmother learned it from her grandmother and her grandmother learned it from hers, yes, yes, we know Timir, don’t bore Iris with the details," Paul interjects. After working in my family for twenty years now since their late teens, it’s no surprise that the two of them are close.

"Oh, right. Sorry about that Mis-"

"Iris," she cuts him.

"Iris," Tim repeats, nodding slowly. "I’ll make sure to remember that."

Deciding to leave them and their inside thingy, I make my way to the kitchen, laughing. My throat feels like freaking Kalahari, I want to down an entire ocean down there. Pouring myself a glass of water and taking a large sip, I groan in delight as the cold fluid hits my raspy insides. "Mhmmm, that’s good."

I’m mid-placing the glass in the sink when everything the lights turn off. Everything goes black and I can’t see anything except the faint laptop light coming from the living room. I ease up, thinking Iris is okay with the light, but when I hear Paul’s deep voice calling her, I know she isn’t.

"Iris? Are you okay?"

Immediately springing into action, I sprint toward the room, bumping into things as I go, my elbow, my knee, or my belly, no part is spared. "Fire up the solar system," I yell out, bumping my leg into some corner and suppressing a groan.

There is a clattering of something from the table as Paul’s large figure stands. "Does anyone of you have their phone with them?"

"No, we left them to charge in Iris’ room don’t you remember?" Comes Tim’s annoyed voice, which is soon replaced by his concerned tone. "Iris, it’s just a blackout, Paul will have the lights on in no time.

"Listen to him, Iris," Paul says dashing off toward the garage and hissing when he bumps into something along the way.

Finally, I’m out of the kitchen. Walking towards the laptop I still when I see Iris’ pale face. It doesn’t take me long to notice that she’s shivering, I’ve seen her do it before. Taking two lengthy strides toward her, I crouch next to her, scooping her off the ground and resting her on my legs.

It takes a while but she soon relaxes on my chest, and the moment she does, the lights illuminate the room once more. Tim is leaning on the table, face pale as the horror of what just happened replays in his head. I pat his shoulder. "We need to have an automated system set up tomorrow."

The sound of the footsteps fills the corridor as Paul rushes back to us, eyes wide open when sees us on the floor.

"Is everyone okay?" He asks, slowing down.

"Yes, we’re all fi—"

"Whose blood is this?" Tim disrupts my answer, eyes still glued on the table. I follow his gaze and see it, the trail of small droplets of blood leading to where Iris and I are seated. It doesn’t take a genius to know who’s hurt.

"Iris, are you hurt?"

She doesn’t respond, just staring at the wall with a slightly pale face as the color returns to her skin. Taking her hands, I flip them around, checking for any wounds, but nothing is there. I pull away from her and raise her arms, to see a thin scratch on her elbow oozing of blood.

"Get me the first aid kit!"

"Yes, sir," Paul immediately rushes over to the kitchen and begins rummaging the counters for the small bag.

"I’m fine," Iris mumbles in a small voice. Finally, she’s speaking out. I’m pretty sure she’s bummed everyone saw her like this. The last time this happened she made sure to remind me to keep it a secret. So like the secret keeper I am, when Paul comes with the kit, I take it and scoop Iris off the floor princess-style, making my way back up to my room.

"She’s sleeping in my room," I tell the others, convincing myself she needs a companion just in case something happens again. Iris doesn’t fight me, neither do Paul and Tim. I’m pretty sure they already pieced the puzzle together and came up with a conclusion, but they’re smart enough not to ask me about it.

Taking my first step toward the stairs, I kiss Iris on the forehead. "Sorry, baby but I’ll have to break the promise I made to you earlier today."

★★★★★