Jason let out a weak chuckle, his weight leaning on more than I’d have liked. "Guess even the elevator wants you to take care of ."
I frowned, adjusting my hold on him to keep him from completely falling over. "It seems you’re back to your normal self."
His lips twitched, his voice low but amused. "Why is my ’normal self’ defined by you, Kiara darling?"
"Stop calling that," I snapped, glaring at him.
"Why?" He smirked, though his breath was labored. "It bothers you so much."
I rolled my eyes, half dragging him down the hallway. "You’re insufferable."
"And yet," he said, his voice softening, "you didn’t leave in the elevator."
I paused outside my door, glancing at him. He looked pale, his usually sharp features drawn and tired. I sighed, unlocking my door and pushing it open.
"Co on, you’re going to sit down before you keel over," I said, pulling him inside.
Jason leaned heavily against the wall as I guided him to the couch, his movents sluggish but deliberate. "You’re really worried about , huh?"
I huffed, setting him down on the cushions. "I’m not worried. I just don’t want to deal with the paperwork if you pass out on my floor."
"Liar," he murmured, his smirk faint but still there.
Ignoring him, I grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and handed it to him. He took it, his fingers brushing mine for a mont. "Drink," I ordered.
"Yes, ma’am," he said, twisting the cap off and taking a sip.
I crossed my arms, watching him closely. "What’s wrong with you anyway? You look like you got hit by a truck."
"Just a bad day," he replied vaguely, leaning back against the couch.
"That’s not an answer."
He closed his eyes, the smirk slipping away. "It’s complicated."
"Everything about you is complicated," I muttered, sitting down on the armrest of the couch.
Jason chuckled softly, cracking one eye open to look at . "And yet, you can’t seem to stay away."
"Don’t flatter yourself," I shot back, though the words lacked bite.
For a mont, we sat in silence, the tension between us thick but not unpleasant. Jason’s breathing evened out, his exhaustion apparent.
"You should go to a doctor," I said quietly.
He opened his eyes, his gaze eting mine. "Maybe I’ll go if you co with ."
I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re stubborn," he replied, his voice soft.
"Touché."
Jason leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes closing again. I stayed where I was, watching him quietly, wondering why I couldn’t bring myself to push him away.
"What happened to you?" I asked, frowning as I noticed the dark stain spreading across his side.
Jason shifted slightly on the couch, his expression a mix of exhaustion and nonchalance. "It’s nothing."
"That’s not ’nothing,’" I snapped, stepping closer. "Holy shit, you’re bleeding."
He rolled his eyes, his usual smirk creeping back despite the situation. "Isn’t that obvious?"
I didn’t waste ti arguing. Turning on my heel, I grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and ca back to find him watching with mild amusent.
"Take off your shirt," I said bluntly, setting the kit down on the table.
Jason raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch. "Aren’t you moving a bit fast, Kiara? I an, we just reunited."
"Shut up and take it off," I barked, pulling on a pair of gloves from the kit.
He chuckled, wincing slightly as he moved. "You know, if you wanted shirtless, you could’ve just asked nicely."
I ignored him, my patience already wearing thin. "Jason, stop stalling. You’re my boss, and I’m not letting you bleed all over my couch."
His grin widened, despite the pain etched in his features. "The boss you had a one-night stand with?"
I froze, my cheeks burning. "Don’t bring that up right now!"
"Why not? It’s relevant," he teased, pulling his shirt up slowly to reveal a gash along his side. The wound was jagged, still bleeding, and clearly deeper than he wanted to admit.
I took one look and grimaced. "This is bad."
Jason waved a hand dismissively. "I’ve had worse."
"Shut up," I muttered, grabbing so antiseptic and gauze. "Hold still."
Before I could start cleaning the wound, Jason pushed my hand away. "I can handle it."
I smacked his arm lightly, glaring at him. "Stop being difficult."
"I don’t need you playing nurse," he argued, though his voice lacked its usual edge.
"You’re my boss, and you’re in my apartnt bleeding all over the place," I shot back. "Just let fix this before you pass out."
Jason’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. "Fine. But only because you’re bossy."
"Pot, et kettle," I muttered, leaning in to clean the wound.
Jason winced as the antiseptic touched his skin, but he didn’t say anything. I worked quickly, trying to ignore how close we were, the tension in the air palpable.
"You’re surprisingly good at this," he said after a mont, his tone softer.
"Had to learn," I replied shortly. "Cos with the territory when you’re surrounded by people who constantly screw up."
His gaze lingered on , sothing unreadable in his expression. "Thanks, Kiara."
"Don’t thank yet," I said, focusing on wrapping the gauze securely around his torso. "Next ti, try not to get yourself half-killed."
Jason chuckled softly, his voice warm despite the pain. "Can’t make any promises."
Annoying bastard.
"Rest on the couch," I ordered, standing up and dusting my hands on my pants.
He leaned back, looking far too smug for soone who was just patched up. "Yes, ma’am."
Rolling my eyes, I turned away, shrugging off my jacket and heading toward the small coat hanger near the door. As I threw it over the hook, sothing heavy tumbled out of the pocket and hit the floor with a tallic clunk.
The room went silent.
"What the hell is that?" Jason’s voice was sharp, and when I turned, I found him sitting up, his gaze fixed on the gun lying on the floor. His usually casual expression was replaced with a frown, his eyes narrowing.
"It’s... a gun," I replied flatly, bending down to pick it up.
"No kidding," he said, his voice edged with irritation. "What are you doing with a gun, Kiara?"
I straightened, holding it firmly in my hand, and t his gaze without flinching. "It’s for protection."
"Protection?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. "From what? We’re not in a war zone."
"You don’t know that," I shot back, walking over to the cabinet where I kept the lockbox for the gun. "n are creep these days. Let’s just say I’ve been in situations where having one would’ve made all the difference."
Jason scoffed, leaning forward despite the strain it put on his injured side. "And what situations are those? You don’t exactly scream ’criminal underworld.’"
"Neither do you," I countered, sliding the gun into the lockbox and securing it tightly.
Jason’s lips twitched into a half-smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Touché. But seriously, Kiara, what are you involved in? You don’t just casually keep a gun in your jacket pocket unless you’re expecting trouble."
I turned to face him, crossing my arms. "Why do you care?"
"Because you’re my employee," he said bluntly. "And because I’m lying on your couch, bleeding. I feel like I’ve earned the right to ask questions."
I snorted. "Says the person who got stabbed."
Jason tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Kiara, I’m serious. Are you in so kind of danger?"
I hesitated, his unexpected concern throwing off. For a mont, I considered telling him everything—the dark web hire, Jessica, the body, everything that had been weighing on . But I couldn’t. Not yet.
"No," I said finally, my voice firm. "I’m just... being cautious."
Jason didn’t look convinced, but he leaned back against the couch, wincing slightly as he did. "Cautious. Right. And does this ’caution’ of yours involve shooting anyone?"
"Not unless they deserve it," I muttered, heading toward the kitchen to grab so water.
"Good to know," he called after , . "I’ll be sure to stay on your good side."
"Please don’t," I replied, glancing back at him.
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