You Give Me Fever || Michael Jackson

Chapter 45: Queen's Birthday

"Wake up, my beautiful Queen. It's your birthday."

That has to be the sweetest wake-up call I've ever received.

"Wha... really? Morning already?" I ask softly, still tired.

"Yes, sweetheart. And it's your birthday, remember? Twenty-seven years old, today!"

"Don't remind me," I joke, sitting up in bed. "So... last day of the holiday today, huh?"

"It sure is. But seeing as it's your birthday, it's gonna be the best last day ever," Michael assures me.

"I can't wait," I say, getting myself up and rubbing my eyes. "So, what's first today? Breakfast."

"Sure is," he starts. He claps his hands together twice, "Jasper, Charlie, you can come in now!"

Moments later, the room door opens, and in come Jasper and Charlie. Jasper's holding a gorgeous red dress, Charlie is holding matching shoes and a small purse.

"Now, my lady," Michael says softly. "Prepare to be treated like a Queen."

Jasper and Charlie hand me the clothes, and I look at Michael, waiting to be told what's going on.

"Now, go get changed. We shall be going to breakfast shortly," he says in a rather-good British accent.

He's gone a little posh - but it's not over-the-top, it's sexy posh.

I head into the bathroom and freshen up, brushing my teeth, brushing my hair, and changing into the dress and shoes.

Once I'm ready, I head back out to the main room, and as soon as Michael sees me, his eyes widen, and his lips part slightly.

Jasper and Charlie's do, too.

"Becky..." Michael gasps. "Y-You look like... a Queen... you look radiant! And oh! You're all mine!"

I giggle at his shock, and enter his embrace. "Forever yours, Michael..."

"Darling, you really do look fabulous," Jasper tells me.

"Wonderful," Charlie adds.

I pull away from Michael, and he gives me a warm smile. He links his arm in mine, and kisses my forehead.

"And now, we dine at a little place I know, not far from here."

We head out the door, and down to reception. I assume we're leaving out the front doors, but Michael then leads me to the back of the hotel, where the pool is.

"Breakfast by the pool?" I ask.

"No, better," is all Michael says.

We walk out of the hotel grounds, and it's then that I see it.

The beach, with a whole section closed off. In the middle, there is a table and four chairs, and the table is decorated with a red tablecloth, red napkins folded perfectly, and cutlery arranged finely.

"Oh my--Michael! I can't believe you've done this for me!" I gasp, clasping my hands over my mouth.

"Believe it, sweetheart. It's all for us," he replies.

We head over to the table, and Michael, being the gentleman he is, pulls the chair out for me to sit.

Once all four of us are settled, we skim-read the menus and pick what we'd like.

Michael clicks his finger twice, and two waiters come out of nowhere - one young man, one young woman.

"May I take your order, Mr Jackson, Miss Summers?" the woman asks.