The billionaire's sweet editor
Chapter 97: Lucas: PTSD

Chapter 97: Lucas: PTSD

I’M such a selfish, self-centered, and stupid prick. A loser too. Why did I fight Iris about her wanting us to do private gym sessions when I know damn well I’m a fucking celebrity on the rise now?

She was on edge when we went in public. She tried to hide her face. She tried to make me keep my cool in front of those persistent ladies. She looked out for me and tried to make me keep the image I had to maintain for the upcoming magazine issue.

And what did I do in return?

Give her fucking nightmares that’s what! I made her work twice the amount she does at work, triple on the stress because she had to handle my sulking and the prying predatory eyes of mine and Bellas shippers.

Wherever the fuck they came from.

I’m so angry and myself, and at Bella. All this wouldn’t be happening if she had just kept her end of our deal—no hard feelings if the other party involved finds a partner they want to share their future with.

Whatever happened to her integrity and trustworthiness she said she would show me once that day arrived. Fucking liar. I’ll have to deal with her later, for now, I have to get Iris home safely.

I’ve already notified Tim and Paul about our situation and they sent a message telling me they have everything prepared for us. Iris just had a panic attack and I had Paul and Tim call the doctor and Williams just in case. Nothing should go wrong. If something happens to Iris I know I won’t ever be able to forgive myself.

I’ve decided to take Iris to another one of my homes, a private villa in the middle of a mountain secluded in the outskirts of Avondale that my mother left for me before her death. Maybe if she gets to breathe fresh air that is better quality than in my usual home she will relax.

Besides, this place has herbs and spices specifically made to treat normal diseases such as colds and headaches. If she ever wakes up with one of them, I’ll have natural remedial medicine at her feet in a second.

That is if we ever do manage to arrive at the villa before she wakes up.

The thirty-minute drive back home has turned to an hour now thanks to the long traffic queue in front of us. I can see the intersection that leads to my villa, but the line of cars blocking me from taking that turn is large enough to fill about ten large trucks carrying cargo.

I want to curse and hit the car horn but that will come with the risk of waking Iris. I can’t have her waking up because of me. That will triple the guilt I’m already feeling for making her suffer like this.

Move, move, move, move! I chant in my head biting my bottom lip until it feels like I cracked some inner lip skin with my teeth.

Finally, the cars move and I take the long-awaited turn. It’s only a five-minute drive from here on but I lower the speed and risk a ten-minute drive just so I can see Iris sleep peacefully.

Just when the thought crosses my mind, she begins shivering and mumbling to herself once again.

"No, go away. No"

I don’t know what she’s seeing in her dreams but one thing becomes clear when I see her face turning pale—I have to hurry us up or she will have another panic attack.

"Hold on Iris," I soothe her, increasing the car’s speed. Fuck five minutes, I’ll get us home in two.

I step on the gas and make the car sprint like we’re racing. In exactly three minutes we pull up outside the front door. I throw the car keys at one of the butlers, running around the Porsche so I can carry Iris from her seat.

Her eyes fly open and she almost slaps me but stops when she realizes who I am. However, her body still hasn’t caught on to the situation. She’s still trembling and pale, without any sign of color returning to her skin anytime soon.

"Don’t worry, we’re home," I coo hugging her firmly so she feels protected.

"But...I don’t know this place."

"You will soon. My mother gave it to me as a birthday present." I stop there for today, not about to give her yet another reason to feel sad. She once cried when I told her about my mother. I can’t imagine how much she’ll bawl her eyes if I make her remember my sob story.

"Iris!" Tim appears from the doors with a blanket and wraps it around Iris.

"How is she?" Comes Paul’s deep voice. His face has dropped, something I’ve only ever seen once when his little sister got into an accident and broke a rib. Luckily no organs were damaged. She’s fine now.

"Let’s get inside," I tell them as Paul holds the doors open for me to enter with Iris. Just like I instructed them, the lights are on everywhere.

I can’t even spot a shadow anywhere that Iris can fit, even under the large dinner tables from the early 2000s that I used to sit on with my parents when I was still a boy. I don’t know whose idea it was but they placed cable lights under the table.

It almost looks Christmasy in the living room now. All we need is a Christmas tree, some ornaments, and a few decorations and we’ll be good to go.

"Here you go," Paul dashes his leg past me so he can hand Iris a mug full of something piping hot and smelling delicious. Chocolate is my lucky guess.

He adjusts the blanket wrapped around her when he notices she’s still shivering, and when he’s finally satisfied with his care, his eyes turn to look at the stairs behind him.

I follow his gaze and watch in awe at Tim walking toward us with the two doctors following behind him whilst he explains the situation to them. I’m amazed at the cooperation these two are showing today.

Usually, Tim stops Paul from straining himself stating how it’s his job to handle the family business and how Paul shouldn’t drive whilst tired. But today he’s letting Paul assist him.

I guess Iris means a lot more to the two of them than I realized.

The doctor nods at me and attends to Iris but it only takes Mr. Williams one glance at Iris before he’s calling me to a secluded corner.

"Yes, Doc?" I ask once we’re standing in the foyer. He turns around and looks me directly in the eyes with a serious expression on his face.

"It’s PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder."

★★★★★