Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

The boss loomed over me, his six-foot frame casting a shadow as he looked down with that arrogant CEO stare. From where I stood, his sharp jawline and chiseled features seemed even more pronounced - like some Greek god who'd stepped out of a corporate brochure.
I squirmed under his gaze, twisting my face to break free from his grip on my chin.
His eyes dropped to my cleavage, and that trademark smirk appeared. "We might not be Fortune 500, but we're no startup either. Out of all five supervisors, you're the youngest. Imagine how... motivated you'd be if I made you manager."
My pulse jumped. I stared at my shoes. "That decision is yours, sir."
"Not entirely." His fingers grazed my cheek, leaving no doubt about his meaning. "Lower those defenses of yours, and that promotion could be yours whenever you want it."
I ducked my head further. Daniel Macmillan had been obvious enough, but I never expected the big boss himself to be this blatant.
Funny how brothers could be so different - one built like a beer keg, the other like he lived at the gym. If I had to choose... well, the choice was obvious.
He withdrew his hand slowly, eyes still glued to my chest. "Do we understand each other?"
A small nod. "Sir... could I have some time to consider?"
A dark chuckle. "Of course. The deputy manager announcement comes this weekend - three days. If you want that office, you'll need to... prepare yourself properly."
With that, he strode out, leaving me standing there with my thoughts racing.
The rest of the day blurred by in a haze of spreadsheets and inappropriate propositions replaying in my head.
When I got home, Richard wasn't back yet. The place was spotless - even the tangled sheets from my morning scramble were military-neat now.
After throwing together dinner, I collapsed on the couch, my mind still spinning.
At nine sharp, the front door banged open. Richard staggered in, swaying like a drunk sailor.
I jumped up to catch him. His skin burned under my fingers, his bloodshot eyes swimming when they met mine.
"Dad? What's wrong?"
He hugged himself, teeth chattering. "Victoria... think I've got a fever. Can't stop shaking."
"Bed. Now." I guided him to his room, peeling off his shirt. But when it came to his pants, I froze.
Last night's drunkenness had given me an excuse. But now, with him conscious? Undressing my father-in-law crossed too many lines.
I shoved the pants at him. "You handle these." Once he was under the covers, I headed for the kitchen. "I'll make ginger tea."
His forehead glistened with sweat under the lamplight.
Even after the tea, he kept shaking. The fever burned through him, sweat pouring down his pale face.
As I mopped his brow, he whispered, "Sorry to be such a burden, Victoria."
I shook my head. "Don't. I'm your daughter too. This is what family does."
He sighed but didn't argue.
The sweat kept coming. If I didn't keep wiping him down, he might get worse.
Dinner forgotten, I stayed by his side until exhaustion finally dragged him under, his breathing evening out into something resembling sleep.