"Theron, clean the mess in the basement," Darien said before hanging up.
No context or explanation at all.
Amara blinked from where she sat, or rather, where she was stuck.
She tried not to listen, but it was hard from this position. Someone please explain how she was supposed to not hear him when he was literally just inches away? Because she was literally in his embrace.
God…
"Do we really have to be like this, Sir?" she asked, awkwardly pointing out their sitting situation.
Darien glanced down at her with that calm expression on his face. One arm was draped around her shoulders, holding her firmly yet softly, as if she might break if he let go. Which… okay, wasn't entirely wrong after what happened earlier.
"Like this?"
"You know, personal space and all?"
He didn't answer right away, and the silence just made Amara wish she'd just bitten her tongue.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. "Do you not like it?"
That question nearly melted her brain.
"I… uh… it's not about that. I mean, you could let me sit on my own like a normal adult?"
She wriggled a bit, hoping he'd take the hint. Instead, his arm tightened, not in a possessive way, but like someone who wasn't used to letting go.
"Stop moving. You're hurt."
And that was that. End of discussion.
Amara sighed and leaned back, completely defeated. Her boss didn't seem to want to let go, and her body was indeed still hurt, so she just stayed there.
His chest was so warm against her shoulder, and she hated to admit how safe it made her feel.
It didn't help at all that she could still remember how he'd looked in that basement. That terrifying grace in every strike that was too fast to follow with murder eyes. Whatever he was… wasn't normal. But now, here she was, cradled in his arms like some damsel from an overdramatic period drama.
She wanted to ask where they were going, but she figured it was obvious. Hospital? Police station?
It was nice to know that rich people like Darien were being responsible and doing something sensible.
She told herself not to close her eyes, that she needed to stay alert, but damn this car rocking her like a baby, and before she realized it, her head leaned against his chest with a heartbeat that was dangerously calming.
But then, the car slowed.
They were turning through a wide black iron gate. The kind of gate rich people used when they didn't want anyone even thinking about walking in uninvited.
What hospital is this?
Okay, maybe a new one. Or a police station. But the more the car went deeper, she wasn't so sure anymore.
The surroundings were too quiet. No traffic, buildings. Just trees and some streetlights. The path would stretch through the forest before it opened into a vast clearing, and that was when Amara's jaw almost hit her knees.
Because in front of them stood what could only be described as a mansion, or maybe a castle that had retired and reduced itself to living as a mansion.
"Holy crap…"
The car stopped at the grand staircase leading to double doors taller than any she'd seen in her life. Before she could even process her next thought, Darien had already stepped out and was opening her door.
"Where… what's this place?" Her eyes didn't leave the building for a second even when Darien helped her out of the car.
"My home," he answered.
Her brain needed a full three seconds to process that. "I'm sorry… your what?"
Before she could demand further clarification, he scooped her up. Again.
"Sir! I can walk!" She protested, wriggling. "Seriously, I have legs. Functional ones!"
"I know," he said calmly, carrying her up the grand staircase. "But you shouldn't."
"Mr. Dra…"
The massive doors opened the moment they approached, and a woman with neatly braided red hair appeared. The beautiful woman bowed slightly. "Welcome home, Sir."
"Felira, call Elio. And help this lady get cleaned up after that."
The woman's gaze drifted to Amara with curiosity, but she just nodded. "Right away, Sir."
Amara barely had time to admire her surroundings as Darien started walking again, this time up a grand staircase that looked exactly like those in historical dramas. There was this big chandelier hanging right in the middle of the room. The window was so tall it stretched from floor to ceiling.
The floors… the furniture…
Every corner screamed old money.
Was this even real life?
Amara's feet hardly touched the stairs as Darien's strong arms held her effortlessly against his chest. The muscle in his arms flexed slightly with every step, his grip steady, never faltering. She couldn't help but notice how easily he moved.
Was he secretly some kind of bodybuilder? She'd seen his arms before, sure, but there was no way to tell from just his usual tailored suits. Maybe he was one of those people who worked out in secret.
Amara's mind briefly drifted to the thought of him in a gym, lifting weights, maybe even in a tank top... she quickly shook her head, annoyed with herself.
By the time they reached the second floor, she had given up trying to keep track of where they were. They finally stopped in front of a large double door, and Darien nudged it open with his shoulder.
Amara's jaw dropped again once they stepped inside. The room, no, the suite, was enormous. The size was probably three times bigger than her entire apartment.
Darien put her down gently on the soft bed. Oh, it was like sitting on a cloud.
She was busy rubbing the sheets when Darien said, "You shouldn't have stayed back there. Look what they did to you."
"I wasn't going to just leave you there like that, Sir… Well… I don't know, ok? Instinct? Stupidity? They kind of sound the same sometimes."
He didn't laugh. "You didn't have to help me. It pains me to see you hurt like this."
Her heart did a little jump down,and she quickly let out an awkward laugh to cover it. "Haaa… S-Sir… I think it would be for the best if you dropped me off in the hospital. No, I think it's better if I go home."
"As much as I'd like to give you whatever you ask for, I can't comply with this one."
She blinked. Give her whatever she wanted? Excuse me? That sounded suspiciously like one of those rich guy lines in cheesy romance dramas she used to mock online.
When he reached out to touch her cheek, Amara stopped. He was so close. Too close to the point it made her brain forget what she was about to say. His gaze locked with hers, and for one crazy moment, she thought he was going to…
Oh, God. She couldn't even say it.
KNOCK KNOCK
Darien moved back, let out a sigh as the door swung open. Felira stepped in, pushing a silver trolley with neatly folded towels, a basin of warm water, and soft cotton clothes.
"Sir," she said, bowing slightly. "Dr. Martz will arrive shortly."
"Good," Darien replied.
His gaze softened again as he looked back at Amara. "We'll continue this later," he said, brushing his thumb lightly along her cheek before stepping away.
And then he was gone.
Amara sat there, blinking.
Continue what?
Continue what, Darien Dravik?!