This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 102

As Claire sleeps, Miguel takes out his phone and dials a number.

“Jean, please call up this hospital and ask if they have an available room where a guest can safely sleep.”

“Yes, sir, give me a sec,” Jean says. She has been Miguel’s personal ȧssistant for years. “Let me trace my contacts and call you.”

“Sure,” Miguel says and hangs up.

He paces the waiting area, now darkened as the hospital turned off the lights in the hallway. The only light they get is what streams out of the little glass windows of the ICU rooms. And this he cannot accept; Claire sitting it out here depresses him. She deserves a lot better. He’s trying to decide whether to bring Claire back to her place, or find an available room in this hospital where she can sleep.

He stops by Gabriel’s room and peers through the window. His brother is still peacefully asleep. Miguel is not worried, not at all. It would take a lot more than this to put a member of his family out of commission. Gabriel will be fine, he’s sure of that. He feels it. Call it a brotherly sixth sense. But you can’t say that to Claire; she follows her own feelings, and he cannot say her feelings are not valid. If she’s worried, then so be it. The only thing he can do now is to ensure her comfort.

The phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s Jean.

“Sir,” she says, “I’m sorry, but it seems we’re in the middle of flu season. Even the extra rooms usually reserved for guests of patients are occupied, with a waiting list. I can have a room vacated by ejecting some of the guests, but I will have to use your family’s influence to do that. Half the board members of the hospital are friends of Mrs. Tan, and they can make this happen.” A pause. “Shall I go ahead and do it, sir?”

Miguel thinks about it. He looks at Claire, who is sound asleep on a steel chair. If he says yes, some unknown family will be thrown out of the hospital in the middle of the night. Perhaps they’re here to be with a seriously sick loved one. Does he have the heart to do that? Sometimes, these choices, thanks to his family’s invisible power, seduce him to make heartless decisions, and he has always balked at that. They had come from nothing; he can still remember a childhood when they had nothing but scraps to eat. Their rise from rags to riches is one for the books, yet despite the heights of financial success they have achieved, Miguel has held on to his own sense of integrity. Maybe his only flaw is he tends to fall in love too easily.

He sighs. “Never mind, Jean. Let it be.”

“Are you sure, sir? All it takes is one easy phone call.”

“No, don’t do that. We don’t do that to people,” he says. “Good night and thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Just call me if you need me.”

“Sure.”

He hangs up before Jean could say anything else. That last line, “just call me if you need me,” drips with double-meaning. Jean has worked for him for a long time, and he has noticed the double meaning in her words, the sėxuȧŀ innuendos, the unspoken invitation to “play” with her. Sometimes, he’s asked himself, why not? Jean’s not bad-looking; she has killer curves and those legs can go all the way to heaven. But Miguel never forgets what his brother, Gabriel, has always told him: “Never throw dirt in your own backyard.” So he tries his best never to return whatever Jean feels for him.

Miguel stands there thinking for a moment. Then he approaches Claire, making quick mental calculations. From here to the elevator lobby, then down to the parking area, would take about ten minutes, tops. He can borrow a wheelchair to wheel her out without having to wake her up, but that would be so ungentlemanly. He looks at her and figures out maybe he can easily carry her in his arms. If she wakes up, then that’s good, too. But one thing he can’t allow to happen is Claire spending the night here; she should be sleeping in the comfort of her own bed. And even as he thinks this, a mosquito bites him in the neck; he slaps it hard. Fuck it, we’re leaving.

Miguel stoops down and carefully snuggles Claire in his arms, letting her head rest on his ċhėst. He expects her to wake up at any moment, but she seems so deep in her slumber. He ambles toward the elevator lobby, and asks the nurse who is standing there to press the buŧŧon for the basement parking area. The nurse gives him an odd look.

“She’s my sister,” he says. “Had too much to drink.”

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse says, then presses the buŧŧon. The doors immediately slide open. As Miguel steps in, the nurse stays standing outside, seemingly coming to a realization. “Wait, what drink? This isn’t a bar, where did you—”

Miguel smiles at her as the doors close. He looks down at the girl in his arms. “Maybe the nurse is thinking I’m going to do something evil to you, my princess. She has no idea how much I worship the ground you tread on.”

Good thing he had brought the Alphard when he came to the hospital. Usually it would be a BMW sedan, or his favorite Aston Martin. But he had an inkling he would need some extra legroom, and he’s quietly congratulating himself for having the good sense to bring the luxury minivan. Now Claire is comfortably ensconced in the passenger seat. Miguel had so carefully carried her in his arms that she didn’t even budge.

The Residence, Claire’s place, is just a few blocks away. Of course, he knows it was Gabriel who “installed” Claire in what used to be a luxury boutique hotel. Miguel knew all about these details in the few days of his arrival in the country, but he keeps his mouth shut. These are his brother’s business decisions, and he has no right to interfere.

Dale’s eyes go wide as Miguel enters the lobby with Claire still asleep in his arms.

“Oh, my God! What happened to Miss Claire?”

Miguel shushes him and whispers, “Help me bring her to her suite. Is the place clean?”

“It’s always clean, sir,” Dale says as he lets them step inside the lift.

As they ascend, Dale couldn’t help but ask, “Is Sir Gabriel fine, sir?”

“He’s fine, Dale, thanks for asking.”

“But what happened to Miss Claire?”

Claire stirs in Miguel’s arms. The two men expect her to wake up and scream her lungs out upon finding them in this situation, but she only mumbles something and giggles.

“She’s having a good dream,” Dale says, smiling.

“Yes,” Miguel says, sadness in his voice. “She dreams of his prince.”

Dale gives him an odd look, but he says nothing.

They go straight to the bedroom. Miguel carefully places her on the bed, under the comfy duvet. Miraculously, she stays asleep. “Must have been extremely tired,” Miguel says, gazing at her. He turns to Dale. “Please alert the house staff of anything she might need when she wakes up. Have some food ready. Let Lucille stay in this suite.”

“Yes, sir,” Dale says snappily, then he’s gone.

Miguel gazes longingly at Claire as she sleeps. It would have been a world of difference if Claire was in love with him, not with Gabriel. His life would be, finally, complete. His search would have ended. Yet here, in this room with the girl of his dreams, Miguel’s heart aches, realizing this would be the closest he’d ever get to her in this lifetime. After this, he would have to keep his distance, all for the sake of his brother’s own feelings. “And in that sleep, what dreams may come,” he mutters, quoting Shakespeare. Then he stands up and leaves, thinking of the lonely night awaiting him at the hospital.