Secret Marriage: The CEO's Pampered Wife

The yacht docked at midnight. Elliot Sheridan draped his suit jacket over the woman and carried her to his car.

"You don’t need to drive me. Take Amanda Thorne home."

Elliot Sheridan instructed Owen Sawyer after placing Georgia Thorne in the front passenger seat.

Owen Sawyer recognized Amanda Thorne, but only because she had been persistently pestering the CEO.

Elliot Sheridan drove Georgia Thorne back to his private apartment.

As he carried her upstairs, his private doctor was already waiting at the door.

He’d realized when carrying Georgia Thorne off the yacht that she had a fever; her body was scorching hot.

Georgia Thorne was tangled in the blankets on the large, pristine white bed.

She was running a high fever and needed an IV drip.

The doctor struggled to insert the needle. "Mr. Sheridan, could you please help hold her hand?"

Elliot Sheridan sat on the edge of the bed, turned Georgia Thorne toward him, and took hold of her small hand.

As the needle pierced the back of her hand, he watched her delicate brows furrow slightly.

"After the IV drip is finished, she needs to take one of these pills twice a day until the fever breaks." The doctor set the bottle of medicine on the nightstand.

"I expect you to be discreet about this," Elliot Sheridan said.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, Mr. Sheridan."

The private doctor was tense. He had been Elliot Sheridan’s personal physician for at least five or six years, and in all that time, he had never once seen a woman by Elliot’s side.

A single IV bag took a full two hours to empty.

And Elliot Sheridan held Georgia Thorne’s hand for those two full hours.

She was a restless sleeper. The moment he loosened his grip, she would immediately burrow deeper into the blankets.

As dawn broke, Georgia Thorne was jolted awake by a throbbing headache.

Her head felt fuzzy. She took in the unfamiliar surroundings, and the sound of running water from a nearby bathroom made her sit bolt upright in shock.

’This was a death wish!’

’I knew he couldn’t stand the sight of me. So of all people, why did *he* have to be the one to save me?’

In just a few short moments, Elliot Sheridan watched a myriad of expressions cross her face.

Elliot wasted no words. He glanced at her. "You’re awake. Come have breakfast."

A housekeeper had come in early to prepare it.

He turned and left the room, leaving Georgia Thorne kicking herself with regret.

Seeing the fresh set of women’s clothes laid out at the foot of the bed, she quickly got dressed.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, flushing an even deeper red.

Outside, Elliot Sheridan was having breakfast.

She walked over to him and murmured a word of thanks.

Elliot seemed not to hear her. "Sit down and have breakfast."

Georgia wanted to say she wasn’t hungry, but when she met his gaze, which allowed no refusal, she obediently sat down.

He ate nonchalantly for a few minutes, then set down his coffee cup. "Who brought you there last night?"

Georgia froze for a second, her eyes meeting his dark gaze. Involuntarily, she told the truth. "My older sister."

"The reason."

She bit her lip. "My stepmother is pressuring me to find a husband, so she had my sister take me out to... meet some men."

Georgia’s voice was barely a whisper on the last three words.

His gaze was simply too cold.

It wasn’t that Georgia had no appetite, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat in front of Elliot.

Her mind reeled with embarrassment. She lowered her head in silence, only looking up when the man let out a soft chuckle.

A low chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. The sound was so unexpected that Georgia looked up, her delicate brows furrowing in confusion as she stared at him.