Page 18 of The Darkest Knight

“Just call me a taxi,” I plead.

“Not happening.” He directs the attendant to retrieve my coat and pulls out his phone to call his driver. “Come on,” he says gently, helping me into my coat. His arm around my waist steadies me, but it’s also a reminder of how vulnerable I am right now. A part of me thrills at his touch, and I hate myself for it.

By the time we reach his car, I’m mortified. Eliana and Bianca aren’t home; I’ll be alone. Jett doesn’t seem to care. “I’ll take you home and make sure you’re okay,” he says, in a tone which leaves no room for argument.

I wake up to a spinning room. My head throbs, and the light from the lamp beside my bed feels like knives in my eyes.Groaning, I sit up, pulling the covers tighter around me. I notice that I’m still in my work clothes.

There’s a figure in the armchair. My breath catches. “Jett?”

His head jerks up, and he’s instantly alert. “You’re awake.” His voice sounds gravelly, like he’s been sleeping.

“What are you doing here?” My voice cracks, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“You weren’t in any shape to be alone,” he says simply. “I stayed to make sure you were okay.”

Oh my God. It comes back to me in fits and starts. He brought me back not in a taxi, but his chauffeured car. I remember kicking off my stilettos. Did I do or say something stupid? God, I hope not. I remember being tired, so tired. I think I crashed on the sofa. Then Jett told me I needed to get into bed.

I remember him asking me where my housemate was, and told him that she was away.

“Are you going to join me?” I think I said when he helped me get into bed.

I freeze with shock at the memory. Did I say really that? Oh, no. Please, God.No.

I sit up some more and rub my eye, only to find crumbs of dried up mascara on my finger.Great look, Cari. I must look a wreck, but at least I'm still in my clothes.. I glance at the clock. It’s 4 a.m., meaning he’s been here all night. Memories of the night before flood back—the drinks, the stumble, his arm around me. “Did I say anything stupid?”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Nothing too incriminating.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all need someone to lean on sometimes.” He stands, stretching. His gaze sweeps over me again, like he’sannoyed. “You should have eaten more, and drank less at the party.”

“I didn’t drink too much! I was trying to have a good time. You told me to go and have a good time,” I yell back, then wince as my head throbs.

His lips twist and I’m sure he wants to speak his mind and hurl sharp words at me, the way only he knows how. “I’ll get you some water.” He storms out while I sit there, clutching the covers, equal parts mortified and honored. Despite his gruffness, Jett Knight, my boss, stayed to take care of me.

Chapter 8

JETT

I turn the faucet some more. Yup. Definitely leaking.

I manage to pour a huge glass of water for Cari. Then I look through the cupboards to find some painkillers, but I can’t find any.

It’s strange that I’m here, in her apartment. In her kitchen. Even stranger that she’s lying in bed and I’m taking care of her.

I couldn’t leave her. She was so unsteady, so vulnerable. I’d noticed her drinking and laughing with her friends earlier, and I thought maybe she was finally letting go, finally enjoying herself.

Cari doesn’t lose control. Ever.

But tonight, she did. And I feel responsible.

She’s had a brutal year—more than anyone could bear. I’ve seen her hold it together through impossible circumstances, showing up every day, and putting up with me. I’ve been under pressure with the Vanhelm deal, knowing my father’s waiting for me to fall flat on my face. I’ve been more demanding than usual with Cari, needing more from her, not wanting to miss any details of the deal.

I realize now that she needed to let her hair down and I’m glad she did. I saw her friends arrive at the kids party but I didn't go over and introduce myself. When I saw her leave alone, something told me I couldn’t just let her go by herself. As I caught up to her, she could barely stand. The shame in her eyes was hard to miss, but I wasn’t about to let her stumble off into the night.

So I did what I had to. I called my driver, took her home, and made sure she got to bed. And then I stayed in case she threw up or something happened to her during the night.

It’s what any responsible boss would do, I tell myself. Only that’s a lie, isn’t it? I don’t sit by the bed of my employees, watching over them to make sure they don’t get sick in the middle of the night. I don’t feel this restless pull in my chest when anyone else stumbles.

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