The CEO Is Obsessed With Me

For a moment, I was frozen, shock rooting me to the spot. The knife slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor as I rushed forward, catching him just as his knees buckled.

“Luke!” I cried, panic lacing my voice as I struggled to support his weight. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

He winced, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to speak. “No… time… inside…”

I nodded frantically, helping him inside and shutting the door behind us. My mind raced as I guided him to the couch, laying him down as gently as possible. Blood was seeping through his fingers, staining his expensive suit and the couch beneath him.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

There was so much blood.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” I said, my hands trembling as I reached for my phone.

“No!” he snapped, his voice surprisingly firm despite his condition. Luke jerked up to stop, his grip on my wrist tight. He heaved a shaky breath, his eyes pleading as he looked up at me. “No hospital.”

I stared at him, confusion and fear warring within me. “Then what do I do?” my chest heaved as Luke settled back on the couch. I glanced at the wound, horrified at how fast he was losing blood. I was disoriented, and nothing came to mind.

“I-I don’t know what to do…” Tears flowed down my cheeks as he coughed, a trail of blood trickling down his chin. “Luke..”

The CEO let out a low grunt, his weary gaze finding mine. “Do you…. have any alcohol?” He asked through short breaths, his voice barely audible.

My brows furrowed. “Are you seriously thinking of drinking in this state!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but his request was beyond absurd. Who would want alcohol at a time like this?!

Luke, this damned man, smiled, and even in his bloody battered state, it made my heart skip a beat.

“You look cute when you scold me….” he mused, and my lips parted in awe at his audacity. Cute? Now he was flirting? Unbelievable, just unbelievable.

“I see the loss of blood is making you delirious, you’re spewing nonsense.” Even as I reprimanded him, my tears continued to flow. He looked so pale, like he was holding on to his last string of life. My chest ached to see him this way, tightening with a profound emotion.

The fear of losing him.

Luke chuckled softly, the sound holding no substance as his gaze darted to the ceiling. “I’m not drinking…” he forced out, “It’s for the wound silly…” his voice softer now, eyes closing as he fought to stay conscious.

“Just get alcohol and a first aid box, I’ll tell you what to do.” Luke’s gaze returned to me, and my breath hitched in my throat as a lone tear slid down his bruised cheek.

“I trust you.”

The vulnerability in his voice, so unlike the man I knew, made the ache in my chest grow, threatening to consume me whole.

I didn’t hesitate any longer. Nodding, I sprinted to the kitchen, yanking open cabinets in a frantic search. My mind was a whirlwind of worry, but I forced myself to focus. I finally found a bottle of whiskey and grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink.

Running back to Luke, I knelt beside him, placing the items on the floor. “Alright, what do I do?”

He gritted his teeth, pulling through the stinging pain. “Pour the alcohol on the wound first,” he instructed, his voice barely a whisper.

My hands trembled as I uncapped the bottle and poured the whiskey over the gash on his side. He hissed in pain, his body tensing, but he didn’t push me away. The wound bubbled and fizzed, the alcohol doing its job of disinfecting.

“Now… cloth… press… hard…” he panted.

I ripped a piece of cloth from a nearby towel and pressed it firmly against the wound. Luke’s face contorted in agony, but he nodded for me to continue.

“What now?” I asked, desperate to keep him conscious.

“Need to… stitch… stop the bleeding…”

I fumbled with the first aid kit, finding a needle and some thread. My hands shook so badly it took me three tries to thread the needle. “I’m not sure I can do this, Luke,” I whispered, terrified of hurting him more.

“You can,” he said, his voice filled with a strength that was a huge contrast to his condition. “You can adapt to any situation, remember?” his lips split into a small smile as he reminded me of the joke he made at work. My gaze softened, and I sniffled, mentally preparing myself.

Taking a deep breath, I began stitching the wound, each pull of the thread causing him to wince and groan. I tried to be as gentle as possible, but the necessity of the situation required urgency. The metallic smell of blood swirled around us, pulling at my nerve’s ends. Chelsea had scurried into my room, either unbothered or scared.

Questions swirled in my mind, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand. He needed me, and for now, that was all that mattered.

After what felt like an eternity, I finished. Heaving out a sigh, I sat back, my hands covered in his blood, and looked at him. His eyes were half open, his face pale and glistening with sweat.

I reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered, more to reassure myself than him.

Blood still seeped around the stitches, but it wasn’t as much as before. Luke’s breathing was shallow, and this scared me, but he managed a weak smile.

“Good job,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. Panic surged through me again.

“Luke, stay with me!” I pleaded, shaking him gently.

His eyes opened a sliver, focusing on me. He chuckled, but the velvet sound was cut off with a low grunt. “Easy… on the merchandise darling…I’m not dying just yet.”

It was amazing how he maintained his cheeky bravado with a hole in his abdomen.

I collapsed on the couch, a heavy burden weighing on my shoulders as I took his hand, intertwining our fingers together, stained with blood.

Something flashed in Luke’s eyes as his gaze lingered on our joint hands.

“Don’t leave…” He whispered, his grip tightening.

My heart thundered in my chest, the desperate plea in his tone catching me off guard. Slowly, I placed his hand against my cheek, leaning towards his touch. His hands felt cold.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, more tears streaming down my face. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His eyes fluttered close, but I could tell from the subtle rise and fall of his chest that he was alive. Alive and breathing.

“Thank you, Aurelia,”

As he drifted into unconsciousness, I sat beside him, holding his hand tightly, praying for his survival. The night stretched on, and all I could do was wait.

Pondering on the question that hung in the air like a dreadful ghost.

What the hell happened to him?