The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(88)

Noah opens his mouth again, but Riggs interjects, "You heard her."

I rise, but I then reach for the piano cover as a rush of dizziness hits me.

"Pet, you okay?" Riggs mutters, putting his hand on my back.

I sit back down and grow dizzier, then put my hand on my belly as a wave of nausea rolls through me.

Riggs crouches in front of me, peering at me and fretting, "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

My vision returns, and my belly calms. I shake my head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Have you eaten today?" he questions.

"I had breakfast."

"That one piece of toast? That's all you've had?" he accuses, his voice rising.

I shrug. "We were working, and I wasn't hungry."

Riggs glares at Ears and Noah, asserting, "From now on, Blakely takes mandatory food breaks."

"We offered her food," Ears informs him.

"Not good enough. Make sure she actually eats," Riggs says in a very firm and upset voice.

"I will from now on," I assure him.

He gives me a look like he doesn't trust me.

"I will," I insist.

He sighs, then takes my hand and pulls me up. "Let's go eat."

"But I think we have more work to do," I state.

Riggs says to the men, "See, this is why it's mandatory."

"Sorry!" I cringe.

"You're good, Blakely. Get something to eat. We can do more songs tomorrow," Ears states.

I glance at Noah, not wanting him to be upset with me about the charity event or leaving too soon. "Is there anything else you need from me today?"

He shakes his head. "No. Go eat."

Riggs guides me out of the recording box, then leads me out of the studio and down the street. There's a small sandwich shop, and he takes me inside. We order Italian subs and sit down. He hands me a bottle. "Drink some water."

I obey to appease him, then inform him, "I had four bottles today."

"Well, at least you won't be dehydrated," he mutters.

I grin. "Nope!"

A server sets our sandwiches on the table. "Need anything else?"

"No, we're set," Riggs answers. He motions to me. "Eat."

I pick up the sandwich and move it toward my mouth. A foul smell fills my nostrils. I cringe and drop the sub on the paper.

"What's wrong?" Riggs inquires.

"I think I'm just tired," I say.

He feels my head. "You don't have a fever."

"I don't. I'm just tired," I insist again.

He stares at me, and I can tell he isn’t buying that I'm just tired. He nods toward the sub. "You still need to eat."

I push the sandwich away. "I can't eat this. It smells rotten. Smell it!"

Riggs picks his sandwich up and sniffs it. "No, it doesn't."

"It does," I insist.

He grabs my sub, holds it to his nose, deeply inhales, then declares, "This is fresh."

The thought of taking a bite makes me wince.

"Let me get you another sandwich," he says.

I glance at the case of desserts. "I'd rather eat a piece of that double chocolate fudge cake."

He arches his eyebrows, and his lips twitch. "You haven't eaten all day and want a piece of cake?"

"Yeah. If you're good, I'll let you smear it all over me, then lick it off later tonight," I tease as I lean closer and wiggle my eyebrows. I admit, "I'm suddenly feeling a little needy."

Riggs chuckles. "I guess I'll get a couple of extra pieces of cake, then."

"Can we get it to go?" I ask, then add, "I'm sorry. Are you starving?"

He holds his hand up. "No, I'm fine. We can take it home, but at least eat the chips." He hands me the paper container.

I shove one in my mouth and chew it. "These are good."

"Glad you approve. Have some more," he orders, then wraps up the sandwiches and goes to the counter. He orders three pieces of cake.

The staff boxes everything up.

Riggs leads me out to the Porsche.

I get in the car and don't make it very far before I fall asleep. When I wake up, Riggs is carrying me into the bedroom. I stroke his cheek and say, "Hey."

He kisses me on the forehead. "Hey. Go back to sleep. I'll tuck you under the covers."

My stomach growls. "I think I want my chocolate cake."

He sets me on the bed, removes my shirt and pants, and pulls the blankets over me. He states, "I'll go get your dessert."

"Thanks."

A few minutes pass. He carries a TV tray into the room. It has a plate and a piece of cake on it. There's a bottle of water, one fork, and two napkins.

Riggs takes a forkful and holds it near my mouth.

I bite into it and groan. After I chew and swallow, I declare, "This is so good."

He grins. "Glad you're enjoying it."

He picks up another forkful of cake, but I move his hand toward his mouth. "Try it. It's delicious."

He bites into it and nods. I take a sip of water and then he does as well. "You're right. It's pretty good. Good call making me get this for you."