Chapter 16 

I know the only thing that can save me now is Jake’s infamously light sleep. 

The guy wakes up if someone thinks too loudly in the next room, which is usually annoying as hell but might actually be useful for once. 

Luckily, it works. Jake stirs awake at the sound of me gasping for air like a fish out of water. 

“Dude-are you choking or what?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and squinting at me in the dim morning light. 

I shake my head frantically, unable to form words. My chest feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise, and my hands are shaking so badly I can barely grip the bedsheets. 

This is exactly the kind of royal breakdown that would make headlines if anyone found out. 

Jake’s face scrunches in confusion, then realization hits. 

“Panic attack?” he guesses, suddenly more alert. 

I nod, still struggling to breathe. The room feels like it’s spinning, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out or throw up or both. 

Jake swears under his breath-not at me, but at the situation-before grabbing my phone from the nightstand. 

“Okay, we’re calling in reinforcements,” he says, unlocking it with my face and scrolling through the contacts. 

“Wait, what are you—” I try to protest, but he’s already hitting call on Gabriel’s number. 

Within minutes, Gabriel bursts into the dorm room looking like he’s run a marathon. He’s pale and visibly rattled, no trace of his usual icy composure. For someone who’s supposed to be a professional, he looks completely freaked out. 

He drops down onto the floor beside me without hesitation, gripping my hand tightly and locking eyes with me. 

His hands are warm and steady, which is more grounding than I want to admit. 

Without breaking his gaze, Gabriel addresses Jake. “Give us a minute.” 

Jake, ever unbothered by drama, grins. “Sure. You wanna lend me your apartment keys so I can finish my nap in peace?” 

For the first time since entering, Gabriel’s head snaps toward Jake, shooting him a look sharp enough to kill. The professional mask slips for just a second, revealing something dangerous underneath. 

Jake holds up both hands in surrender. 

“Kidding. I’ll grab coffee-but I’m on standby if you need me.” 

Even through my fog of panic, I manage to appreciate how smart-and infuriatingly quick-witted-Jake is. He’s giving us privacy while making it clear he’s not abandoning me completely. 

Once Jake leaves, the room feels quieter. 

My breathing starts to slow, though my chest still burns from the aftershock. Gabriel’s presence is weirdly calming, even though he’s the reason I’m having this breakdown in the first place. 

Gabriel’s grip on my hand tightens slightly as he launches straight into concerned interrogation. 

“What happened? How are you feeling? Talk to me.” 

I’m ready to deflect with something snarky, maybe make a joke about how this is definitely going in his report, but when I turn to face him, I freeze. 

Gabriel looks terrible. Pale, drawn, with faint lines of exhaustion etched across his face. His usually perfect hair is disheveled, and there’s a slight tremor in his hands that he’s trying to hide. 

My concern overtakes my frustration. 

“You look awful,” I shoot back, switching roles in an instant. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Gabriel hesitates, clearly debating whether to lie, but eventually gives in. “I woke up with a fever. That’s why I told you to run alone this morning. I was going to join later—as backup.” 

My shoulders sag in disbelief, followed by an unexpected laugh that bubbles somewhere deep in my chest. 

Gabriel blinks, surprised by my reaction. “What’s so funny?” 

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I wipe my face, still breathless but genuinely amused by the absurdity of it all. “I nearly gave myself a full-blown panic attack because I convinced myself you were ghosting me. Meanwhile, you’ve been dying of the flu.” 

“It’s not the flu,” Gabriel protests weakly, but his voice is hoarse and he looks like he’s about to keel over. 

“Right, because admitting you’re sick would be showing weakness,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Very professional of you.” 

An hour later, Gabriel is buried under blankets in his apartment bed, feverish and miserable, while I hover nearby like an overly concerned mother hen. 

The role reversal is almost funny-the prince taking care of his bodyguard instead of the other way around. 

“I’m not leaving until you feel better,” I declare, grabbing a glass of water from his kitchen. “And don’t argue. I’ll even study to pass the time, so you can tell my parents I’m being productive.” 

Gabriel tries to protest, but it comes out as more of a croak. “You don’t need to-” 

“Shut up and drink your water,” I interrupt, settling into the chair beside his bed. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you don’t die of dehydration and leave me stuck with some new bodyguard who doesn’t know how I like my coffee.” 

To prove my point about studying, I text Jake asking him to bring over my laptop and books. 

At least this way I can get some work done while playing nursemaid to my supposedly invincible security detail. 

My roommate texts back immediately. 

Jake: On my way. This is very gay of you btw. 

I snort and show Gabriel the message. Even half-dead with fever, he manages to look mildly amused. 

Twenty minutes later, I meet Jake outside Gabriel’s building. He hands over my bag but doesn’t leave right away, which immediately puts me on alert. 

“By the way,” Jake says, his voice lowering conspiratorially, “we’re going to have a talk later.” 

I frown, my stomach dropping. “About what?” 

Jake smirks, and I know I’m fucked. 

“Look, that joke about Gabe being your family’s punishment? Funny. But having him saved in your phone as ‘royal body-fucking-guard’—that’s bold even for you.” 

I feel my face flush crimson. Shit. I’d completely forgotten about that contact name, a moment of petty rebellion from weeks ago when I was still pissed about the whole surveillance thing. 

Jake only laughs harder at my expression. “Yeah. We’re definitely talking.” 

He turns to leave, then pauses. “Oh, and Leo? Next time you have a panic attack, maybe don’t have your phone unlocked to that particular contact. Just a thought.” 

I stand there holding my bag, watching him walk away, realizing that my best friend now has blackmail material that could destroy what little privacy I have left. And the worst part? He’s probably going to use it to give me relationship advice. 

This day just keeps getting better and better.