I want to argue. It’s my default setting. It’s my comfort zone.
But the truth is, the thought of getting into a stranger’s car right now makes my stomach twist.
Mark points a finger at me. “See? He’s already being responsible.”
Alex raises his hand. “I volunteer as tribute.”
“You volunteer for everything,” Mark says. “You’d volunteer to taste-test poison if someone offered you a trophy.”
Alex shrugs. “Depends on the trophy.”
Derek’s gaze stays on mine, steady. “I can take you.”
My pulse trips. “You have work.”
“I can work from home,” he says, like it’s nothing.
“It’s not nothing,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You’re the CEO.”
“And you’re the person who was drugged last night,” he replies, calm but firm. “Let me do this.”
The words hit my chest like a fist.
Let me do this.
Not because I owe him. Not because he expects anything. Because he wants to.
That’s the part that scares me.
I take a slow breath. “Okay,” I say, the sound brittle. “But I’m not… staying.”
Alex coughs loudly. “Yet.”
“Alex,” I warn.
He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”
Mark leans toward me, voice conspiratorial. “He won’t.”
I snort despite myself.
Derek grabs a clean glass and refills it halfway with apple juice again. He slides it toward me without comment.
I stare at it, then at him. “Half?”
“Just in case,” he says quietly.
I swallow, throat tight, and take a sip anyway.
It helps.
The kitchen smells like coffee and something toasted—plain, safe. The normalcy is so absurd it almost makes me dizzy again.
Mark glances at my phone on the counter. “You text Jamie back?”
“I did,” I say. “She wants to set Derek on fire.”
Derek’s mouth twitches. “She can get in line.”
