Royally Kissed | ✓

09; the precautions

—nine—

the precautions

ARTHUR HAD ONCE read that over seventy percent of your bodily systems are utilized during an anxiety disorder.

But when he'd woken up to what would come to be known as the most distressful time of his life, that seventy percent had escalated twice the amount of that havoc currently wracking his body. It didn't necessarily mean that he was suffering from such condition, but even he couldn't understand the things that were running inside his head. He was beside himself, his nails were practically chipping away, and his heart was wildly hammering inside his chest as he waited for help.

He could've walked out of the door and scream for Paige's immediate assistance, but that in itself was already giving him an anxiety attack, as simple as the wish was. Because even at the bout of emergency, he still had to protect her in some other way.

It took him more or less ten minutes to think of another way to help her. But emergencies are always an unforeseen crisis, as expected, so there would always be an interval in between the location of the patient and the rescuer's trip to the ones in need.

He was glad he'd taken elementary first aid training since Archer was pretty adamant that they'd take it together; Archer was one of the stockholders of the Richter Cruise Lines, and though he didn't go on a cruise that much−because he was too engaged with work as one of the board of directors−he'd wanted to educate himself about the seafarers' experience before they join on board.

Checking the breathing, doing head-to-toe examination, and performing CPR were included on their training. But it was almost like a year ago and he wasn't sure if he'd done it right.

It was quite a relief, though, when he was certain Paige didn't need resuscitation whatsoever.

So that was what he'd done first, before carrying Paige to her bed and eased her there in a recovery position to keep her airways clear, just in case. And then he'd almost dialed 911, but that would raise suspicion for obvious reasons. It would defeat the purpose of him hiding in her bedroom−and just imagine what her family would think.

But he couldn't just let the moment pass by with her being unconscious, could he?

Think, think, think, he'd chanted.

He'd thought of Cain, and or Jouwee. But that would be an unrealistic call for help, given that it was already one in the morning. They were definitely sleeping their butts off.

He'd scanned down a little more on his phone. Then one name suddenly came to mind.

And he'd almost hooted in mirth, if only he hadn't remembered the situation at hand. Arthur had cursed under his breath instead.

Aoife (pronounced as 'ee-fa') had worked for Archer long ago. He only had three people at bay which he'd always trusted. Two retainers and a driver. One of the servants at the time−was Aoife.

But he'd gotten more and more busy and he wasn't almost always at home; and so he decided to let Aiofe go, since the other one had been serving his family for years, and he didn't need much help at his place anyway.

Archer was quite pensive for some reason, but he was glad The Cadwyns took her in. The six degree of separation likely didn't occur to the upper crust in their city. For them, it wasn't just coming together with the minds and the giants from another thriving companies, it was also important for businesses to gain networks for future collaborations and projects.

That was how it went for Aoife−Archer letting her go, just in time The Cadwyns needed extra hands.

The other person had groaned from the other line, the last few rhythm of her sleep evident in her voice. "Who's this?"