Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
AUDRA
My phone is a landmine.
That’s the first thought that hits me the second Derek hands it over, screen dark and heavy in my palm like it’s judging me for every decision that led me here.
The second thought is worse.
I’m in Derek Pierce’s house. Again.
Not the bright, sharp version of his life—the office, the boardroom, the places where he’s always in control and I’m always on guard. This is something else. A space that smells like coffee and clean linen and the faintest trace of masculine cologne that shouldn’t be comforting but somehow is.
I sit at the edge of the couch, blanket still wrapped around my shoulders like armor, and stare at my locked screen.
“Take your time,” Derek says.
His voice is calm. Not CEO-calm. Not command-calm. Something softer, like he’s trying to make the world less sharp for me.
It makes my throat tighten.
Mark drops into the recliner with an overly dramatic groan. “If you pass out again, I’m writing it into the official friendship contract.”
Alex sets a small plate of crackers on the coffee table like he’s presenting a peace offering. “Saltines. Safe food.”
I eye them suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
Alex nods solemnly. “As sure as I can be about any food.”
Mark snorts. “He’s lying. He once got betrayed by a taco.”
“It was the lettuce,” Alex says, offended. “It was suspicious.”
Despite myself, a laugh bubbles up—small, breathy, surprised.
The sound seems to startle Derek more than it startles me. His gaze sharpens for a moment, relief flickering there before he smooths it away.
That should not matter.
It does.
I press my thumb to my phone and it unlocks, the screen lighting up with a flood of notifications.
Texts. Missed calls. Voicemails.
My stomach lurches—not nausea this time. Dread.
LEVI: AUDRA???
LEVI: ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW.
LEVI: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU’RE WITH SOME STRANGE MAN I’M CALLING THE FBI.
LEVI: (I WILL ALSO KILL HIM.)
LEVI: (LOVE YOU.)
Shannon’s name follows with three missed calls and a message that reads: I’M SORRY I LOST YOU. ARE YOU OKAY?
Jamie: WHERE ARE YOU?
Jamie: I’M GOING TO SET SOMETHING ON FIRE.
Jamie: TELL ME YOU’RE SAFE.
Jamie: (AND IF YOU’RE NOT I’M GOING TO SET DEREK ON FIRE.)
I close my eyes for a second, heart squeezing.
They were scared.
I was scared.
I still am, if I’m honest. Just quieter now. Like the fear moved into my bones and decided to live there for a while.
I type with clumsy fingers:
Me: I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m at Derek’s. Don’t freak out.
The second I hit send, I regret it.
Me: At Derek’s.
That phrase feels like a confession I didn’t mean to make.
Mark makes a gagging noise. “Ew. He’s got a possessive preposition now.”
Derek’s head snaps toward him. “Shut up.”
Alex grins. “He’s not wrong.”
My phone buzzes instantly—Levi calling.
I answer on the first ring.
“AUDRA,” Levi yells, voice cracking with relief and rage. “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”
“I’m… fine,” I say automatically, and then I hear myself and hate it. “No. I’m not fine. But I’m safe. I’m at Derek’s house.”
A beat of silence on the line.
Then Levi’s voice drops, deadly calm. “Put him on.”
Mark’s eyes widen. Alex’s grin goes feral.
Derek holds out his hand, expression unreadable. I hesitate, then hand him the phone.
He lifts it to his ear. “Levi.”
“Pierce,” Levi says, each syllable sharp enough to cut. “If she is missing a single hair from her head, I will bury you in paperwork so deep you’ll never breathe again.”
Says my lawyer bestie.
Mark chokes on a laugh.
Derek’s mouth twitches. “Noted.”
“Explain,” Levi snaps.
Derek’s gaze flicks to me. It’s a question. Permission.
I nod once.
“She was drugged,” Derek says, voice tightening on the word. “At the club. Hospital confirmed. She’s still foggy, but she’s stable.”
Levi’s inhale is harsh. “Drugged by who?”
“Some guy at the bar,” Derek replies. “The guy she was talking to before you pulled her over to the table. Security has him. Police have footage. I’ll forward whatever you need.”
Another beat.
Then Levi’s voice turns quieter. Still furious. “Is she alone with you?”
Mark makes an offended sound. “Rude.”
Alex whispers, “Valid.”
Derek answers evenly, “Mark and Alex are here.”
“Good,” Levi says immediately. “Good. Okay. I’m coming.”
“No,” I say quickly, the word too sharp. My head pounds in protest.
Levi’s voice softens, just slightly. “Audra—”
“I’m okay,” I insist. “I just… I need a minute. I need to breathe without you trying to fight someone.”
“That’s not a promise,” Levi mutters.
“It is,” I say. “You promised me you’d stop getting arrested.”
“I promised I’d stop getting arrested in my own city,” he counters. “This is Derek Pierce’s city.”
Mark snorts. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Levi,” Derek says, voice controlled, “she’s safe. She can rest. If you want, I can bring her home when she’s steady enough.”
Silence.
Then Levi exhales. “Fine. Text me the address anyway.”
Derek rattles it off without hesitation.
“Thank you,” Levi says, and the sincerity catches me off guard. Levi has never thanked Derek Pierce for anything in his life.
He pauses, then adds, quieter, “Audra?”
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry I lost track of you,” he says. “I was with Shannon. She was… a mess.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry too.”
“You better not be sorry,” Levi says fiercely. “You did nothing wrong.”
My throat tightens again.
“I’ll check in later,” he says. “If you don’t text me back, I’m breaking into that man heaven, steal his boxer briefs, and sell them on eBay. The women would go insane for them!.”
"I think that'd be interesting," Mark mutters loudly, leaning toward the phone. “He’ll have to hide, wear a disguise.”
Alex laughs. “He will. It'll be epic. Do it! Do it! Do it!.”
Levi’s laugh is rough but real. “Bye, Audra.”
“Bye,” I whisper, and hang up before my emotions can spill out of me like something I can’t stop.
I stare at my phone for a second, then send Shannon a quick message too: I’m okay. I’m safe. Levi’s with you? I’m sorry.
My hands shake.
I hate that they shake.
“You don’t have to answer anyone else right now,” Derek says quietly. He’s still standing, like he can’t settle while I’m unsettled. “They know you’re alive. That’s enough.”
Alive.
The word is scary and a relief.
Mark leans forward, elbows on his knees. His tone shifts—still warm, but less joking. “You want to know what happened?”
My stomach flips. Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to pretend the night never existed.
“Yes,” I say anyway. “But… slow. We might have talked about it before, but I don't remember."
Alex nods. “We can do slow.”
Derek moves to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of apple juice—half full, like earlier. He sets it in front of me without comment.
I take a cautious sip. Cold. Tart. Clean. My mouth almost cries with relief.
“Okay,” I say, voice steadier now. “Start with the bar.”
Mark points at Derek. “He noticed first.”
Derek shoots him a look. Mark shrugs. “Facts.”
Derek exhales once, then speaks carefully, like he’s choosing each word with intention. “You were at the bar. A guy offered to buy your drinks. You ordered water and a Captain and Diet Coke.”
I frown. “Water.”
“You were smart,” Alex says. “You did everything right.”
Derek continues. “You set them down so you could grab your purse to pay, but he offered. Then you turned back to him. You were talking. The guy lifted one of the glasses when you reached for your clutch.”
My stomach drops.
“Like… switched them?” I whisper.
“Like he moved,” Mark says, jaw tight. “Quick. Casual. Like he’d done it before.”
Cold slides down my spine.
“And then?” I ask.
“You started feeling off,” Derek says. “Fast. Too fast for alcohol.”
I swallow hard. “I remember… the lights. Warping.”
Alex nods. “Yeah. That part was real.”
Mark’s mouth tightens. “Then you threw up on Derek’s shoes.”
Heat floods my face. “Mark—”
“What?” he says. “It’s a key detail. Symbolic.”
Alex snorts. “Italian leather sacrifice.”
Derek’s voice turns flat. “Enough.”
Mark holds up his hands. “Okay, okay. But it was kind of iconic.”
I groan and bury my face in the blanket for a second.
Derek’s hand hovers near my shoulder—close enough to feel without touching—then drops away like he’s afraid of crossing a line.
“I caught you,” he says quietly. “We got you out. Security and PD handled him.”
“Hospital?” I ask, voice small.
“Hospital,” Alex confirms. “They ran tests. They said it was a low dose of something. You didn’t lose time the way you could have.”
Could have.
The words sit there, heavy and ugly, full of endings I don’t want to imagine.
I stare at the crackers like they’re suddenly important. My stomach rolls, and for a heartbeat I think I’m going to throw up again.
Derek’s voice cuts in, grounded. “Breathe.”
I do.
In. Out. Slow.
The room steadies again.
“Why didn’t you… leave me there?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. It’s not logical. It’s not fair. It’s the kind of question fear asks when it doesn’t know where else to go.
Derek’s gaze locks on mine. “Because no one was leaving you, especially like that.”
My pulse stutters.
Mark clears his throat loudly, like he’s trying to break the moment before it becomes something too real. “We’re annoyingly loyal.”
Alex nods. “It’s a character flaw.”
I swallow, looking away, because if I look at Derek too long, something in me might break. Or worse—soften.
“I need… to shower,” I say suddenly. “I feel gross. Like my skin doesn’t belong to me.”
Derek nods once. “Guest room’s ready. Towels. Anything you need.”
“And clothes?” I ask, hating how small my voice is.
Mark perks up. “Oh, we have opinions.”
Derek shoots him a warning look. “Ignore him.”
Alex points toward the hallway. “There’s a drawer in the guest bathroom with unopened toothbrushes. Like a hotel.”
“That’s… weirdly thoughtful,” I admit.
Derek’s mouth twitches. “I’m a host.”
Mark snorts. “He’s a control freak.”
Derek’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Both can be true.”
I stand slowly, testing my balance. The room sways—but only a little.
Derek’s hand hovers again. Not touching. Waiting.
It’s the waiting that makes me trust him more than the holding would.
“I can walk,” I say.
“I know,” he replies. “I’m just… here.”
There it is again.
Consistency.
Showing up.
My throat tightens, and I nod quickly like that solves the problem.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m going to shower.”
Mark salutes. “Godspeed.”
Alex adds, cheerful, “Try not to drown.”
I flip him off weakly and head down the hall, the blanket slipping from my shoulders as I go.
Behind me, Derek’s voice follows, low and steady.
“Take your time, Audra.”
I think I will.