Just more shady tactics for me to report when the time came to take this entire family down.
I shrugged. “Okay, cool. Are we done?”
The assistant seemed disappointed in my response. “For now. The congresswoman asked me to check in on you over the next few days to see how you’re handling the transition, so you’ll be seeing me again. You can go to bed now. The physician will be getting Jude settled once the ambulance arrives and will leave a list of instructions for you.”
And with those parting words, the assistant left. Closing the door behind her with a sharp click.
I collapsed onto the settee at the foot of the bed, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. It had been a long, long night. Without changing my clothes, turning off the light, or moving to the bed, I leaned my head back on the velvet arm and was immediately asleep.
* * *
When I woke up, the sun was shining, and someone was already yelling. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, confused at first about where I was. Sitting up, shot a sharp pain through my neck, which had been crooked against the arm of the settee.
“Hello?” a voice yelled from across the hall. “What the fuck?”
I knew that voice. Shit. I jumped up, rolled my neck once, scrubbed my face with my hands, and ran across the hall.
When I opened the door, Jude’s face was comical. “What the hell?”
I blinked. “What do you need?”
“What are you doing here? It’s your day off today. Also, you’re not in uniform.”
I smirked a little internally that he had my schedule so memorized. “I’m taking care of you.”
“What?” he snapped, struggling to sit up in bed but wincing at the pain in his ribs.
“Slow down.” I came to the edge of the bed and helped ease him into a sitting position. The heat of his body sent a little current through me that I did my best to ignore. He looked a lot better, his face full of color and the life back in his eyes. Someone had bathed him and changed him into a pair of silk pajamas I’d never seen before, the hem of the right leg neatly sewn to make room for his cast.
His voice pierced my trance. “Brooklyn, what the fuck are you doing here?”
I sat him up and backed away. “Your mother hired me to be your, well, your nurse, essentially.”
“You’re not a nurse!” he snapped, his patience razor thin.
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
I fluffed the pillows behind his back and moved to the fridge to pour him a glass of Perrier. I pulled a lime from the drink cart, noticeably emptied of all alcohol content and looking bare, with only mixers and garnishes left behind. I sliced the lime into neat wedges, popping one in his glass and placing it on a coaster at his bedside.
Then, I stood back again. “Nonetheless, your mother wanted me to be the one taking care of you. I’m your on-call aid.”
“So, what? Were you just sitting outside my door, waiting for my call?” He took a begrudging sip of his drink.
“No. They put me in the guest room across from your room.” I found the neatly typed instructions from the physician on Jude’s desk. So, I picked up the papers and flipped through. There were probably twenty pages of notes here. I was going to need coffee for this. “Can I get you something?”
Jude just blinked at me, his dark eyes nonplussed.
“I’ll get you some coffee.” I closed the door before he could argue.
Before going downstairs, I took a brief detour to clean myself up. I changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved white tee, an outfit I had decided seemed vaguely nurse-like, while also being presentable and easy to move around in. We hadn’t discussed a uniform in our negotiations, but no way would I be serving Jude in my maid’s outfit. That had all the makings of a porno I did not want to be a part of. So, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, pulled on my sneakers, and then ran downstairs.
Where Janey was waiting for me in the kitchen.
“Well, well, well,” she said, her lips pursed.
I ignored her, pulling out a tray and filling a carafe with coffee. I took a container of fresh cream and a bowl of sugar and two mugs.
“I hope you’re happy with your new little gig then,” Janey said.
I wouldn’t play into her game, though.
She continued. “Think you’re all high and mighty now, do you? Reporting directly to Jude? Well, let me assure you that this will not last long. No, no, not long at all.”
I sighed. “Whatever you say, Janey.”
I lifted the tray and started out of the kitchen before the sound of her tinny, raspy, disgusting voice hit my ears once more.
“Yes, you had better get used to saying that, Brooklyn, because that will be all I’ll want to hear from you once you’re back reporting to me,” she called after me as I headed back to Jude.
I pushed open his door with my hip--a skill I had gotten very good at in recent months--and placed the tray on his dresser. I filled up both mugs, one that was jet black for him and one that was light and sweet for me, and handed him his mug. I took mine and pulled over his desk chair to sit across from him.
“Jude,” I said hesitantly. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I don’t know if you remember, but I was the one who found you last night.”
He sipped his coffee. “I thought I remembered you there, but I wasn’t sure if it had been some kind of dream.”
“Not a dream.” I took a drink, wishing I could mainline the caffeine directly. At most, I must have gotten three hours of sleep last night. “I was out for a walk and saw your car. I saw you slip. You were so beat up. There was blood all over your face….” I trailed off. “I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re okay.”
He didn’t even look at me, so I took a deep breath. “And… listen. I know things are tricky with us. I know you don’t trust me or even like being around me, but I am here to help you. I’ll help get you through this. You can count on me.”
I stared into his eyes, trying to communicate directly to that part of him that had opened up, so briefly and what felt like so long ago, to me.
He looked back, and for a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes. Then they darkened. “So what, stalking me were you?” he said coldly.
My mouth fell open. “That’s what you got from that? That I was stalking you?”
“She doesn’t even deny it,” he said. “What a freak.”
“I was not stalking you, Jude. Because believe it or not, my world doesn’t revolve around your cock. I was out for a walk. I had no idea I’d see a drunk idiot fly past me on fucking ice and flip his rich-boy car.”
“Whatever, stalker.”
My retort was interrupted by the door opening and that assistant entering.
“Jude,” she said. “The congresswoman would like to know how you are feeling.”
He shifted, wincing. “She could ask me herself.”
“The congresswoman is very busy.”
I rolled my eyes. This woman was an automaton. The congresswoman this, the congresswoman that… a little clone sycophant doing her best to claw to the top.
“I saw that,” Jude said to me. “I’m fine, Ann,” he said to the assistant.
Assistant Ann, how appropriate.
She continued. “There are a few things we need to discuss. I see you have already learned that Brooklyn will be in charge of your care. You are her acting supervisor while you heal. Please be aware that her duties include twenty-four-hour care of yourself along with the maintenance of your rooms, your sister’s rooms, and her own room.” She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. “You are not to leave the house and are excused from family dinners this week. Further excuses are pending your doctor’s opinion. You are on medication that requires zero alcohol intake. Please direct any other questions regarding your care to Brooklyn.”
Then, she left. Closing the door behind her and leaving me with all of the fallout.
Typical.
“Twenty-four-hour care. Hmm,” he said
with a smirk. “How lucky for you.”
I stood and grabbed the instructions his doctor had left, taking a highlighter from his desk to note medications and their timings. It looked like for this week, I would just be making sure he got plenty of rest, ate well, and took his medication.
Seemed easy enough.
But that also meant I would be at Jude’s beck and call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week until he recovered. Just touching him the once had sent a surge of heat through me. Seeing him in bed, vulnerable, even with his smart-ass remarks, made me want to climb in and comfort him.
It was going to be a recuperation time. For both of us.
I felt my cheeks flush as I glanced over at him in bed, imagining what it would be like to slip beneath the covers. I pictured his eyes as I unbuttoned that silk pajama top and tossed it on the floor, sticking my hand below his waistband and grabbing hold of him. I thought about pressing his back against the bed frame so I could take control, being careful not to hurt him. Kissing him all over, starting with his bruised ribs but ending somewhere very, very different.
I had stared at him too long and caught his attention.
“What are you looking at?” he asked, his voice husky.
I drifted a little bit closer to the bed.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Is there something I can do for you?” He patted the bed next to him.
“I’m here to help you, not the other way around.” I moved a little closer but didn’t sit down. Not yet.
“I can think of one way you could help me.” He held out a hand. I was reaching toward it when the door opened.
“My God, Jude.” It was Margeaux, white-faced and rumpled. She swept in, not seeming to notice me or how close I was to her fiancé. “What happened to you?”
She sat next to him, taking his outstretched hand in hers and pressing it against her chest. Margeaux was wearing just a white silk slip, her hair coming out of a complicated-looking braid, glitter, and dark eyeliner smeared around her eyes.
Even like that, she looked unfairly beautiful.
“Breakfast,” she shot over her shoulder at me. “Jude, I had no idea. I must have slept right through everything.”
I was shocked to hear how soft and loving her tone was. I had never heard her speak like that to anyone. Ever. She caressed the dark hair out of his face and pressed a kiss to his temple.
The tender moment was broken by her noticing me lingering at the foot of the bed. “Are you an idiot? Get us breakfast!” she snapped.
I hurried out. On the other side of the door, I leaned back against the wall to catch my breath. I pressed a hand to my blazing hot cheek. Maybe it had all been in my head, but we had come so close. And if we had, she would have just walked in right as…. I shook my head.
I was going to have to be very, very careful.
16
Jude
When Brooklyn had come into my room this morning, I swear my heart had almost stopped. She had looked adorably rumpled in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, her hair the very definition of bedhead. Then I learned she was going to be my caretaker. And since then, I’d oscillated between not wanting her to see me like this—weak, bedridden, and hurt—and a feeling that was even weirder.
Happiness.
I had kept my feelings locked down when it came to Brooklyn. But waking up this morning, aching, and seeing her burst into my room like Wonder Woman, had shaken that hold a little loose.
Fuck her and that speech.
Her coming back in clean and fresh, looking as peachy and wholesome as a ripe piece of fruit, earnestly promising to help me get better. That had shaken the hold even looser. And I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to resist. Even after I snapped at her, that sarcastic guard of mine slamming her out, we had still come close.
If Margeaux hadn’t burst in….
Margeaux.
She was next to me offering anything I wanted, and it seemed sincere. A rarity from her, for sure. But when she sat down, decisively separating me and Brooklyn, I had had to fight back the feeling of utter revulsion she brought up in me. She reeked of stale alcohol, her makeup crusted in a fucked-up clown’s mask, and the grip of her hand felt damp and humid. I had watched Brooklyn back out of the room, desperate to read something in her face, but there was nothing.
And when I was left with my fiancée, I wished that crash would have killed me.
“Jude? You okay?” Margeaux leaned her face in front of mine, bringing the sour grape smell even closer.
This time, I couldn’t control my flinch.
“Sorry, Marg. My ribs,” I said, clutching them to add to the effect.
Thank fuck, she bought it.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Thankfully, she got up from the bed and moved to the chair. “Are you hungry? Where’s that damn girl with our breakfast? Honestly, it’s not even fun anymore. She just needs to go. She’s useless.”
“Marg.” I lifted my hand out to her, and she grabbed it. “I’m sorry, babe, but I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can eat. I might just go back to sleep.”
“Of course, you should.” She looked like a scared white rabbit, all limbs and cleavage in her white slip, unsure of what to do or how to help. “I’ll leave you be.”
“Come back later. I’ll try to stay up,” I said, trying to sound weak.
It didn’t take much, though, and I hated that. How weak I sounded. And how Brooklyn would see me weak for days. Maybe even months.
Margeaux stood up, kissing my forehead. “No, no, you just rest. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She backed up to the door, placing one hand behind her on the knob. “I’ll just make sure that the girl takes care of you. Go to sleep now.”
And finally, she left.
I released a sigh of relief and nestled back against my pillows. Margeaux hated weakness and illness, almost more than she hated poverty and neediness. I cocked my head at the thought. Maybe that’s why she hated the lower class, because she saw them as weak. I put a hand to my pounding head.
This entire situation was all too much after smacking my head against a windshield and giving myself a fucking concussion.
17
Brooklyn
I was carrying a breakfast tray upstairs when Margeaux stopped me. “I need to talk to you.”
“Now?” I asked, trying to avoid looking at her slip, which had turned see-through in the sunlight of the hallway, revealing an annoyingly perfect body.
“Yes, now.” She tapped one bare foot against the carpet.
I regripped the heavy breakfast tray, laden with chinaware, serving dishes, and food for two, hoping she’d get the hint. But, it seemed as if she didn’t care one bit. I mean, come on. Her own damn fiancée was waiting for this food, and she didn’t give a shit?
Sounds like the congresswoman.
Her eyebrows ticked. “We need to talk about Jude.”
Obviously, the hint wasn’t going to strike home, the selfish little bitch. I bit back a sigh and entertained it, though.
“He needs careful looking after,” she continued. “You aren’t who I would choose for the job, but you’ll do. I’m going to need your phone number.”
“Why?” I asked.
“What do you mean, why? To check in on Jude, obviously. To make sure he’s being taken care of.”
“So… couldn’t you just call him?”
She scoffed. “Are you an idiot? I don’t want to be bothering him constantly. He needs his rest. Give me your phone number, and I’ll be checking in with you regularly.”
I took that to mean that I was going to be bothered constantly. But it didn’t seem like she was going to let me pass, and my arms were starting to hurt from the weight of the tray. I told her my number, and she programmed it into her phone.
She hit dial and looked at me expectantly.
“What?”
“Well, answer it! That way, you can program me in! God!”
“Oh… I, uh, don’t have my phone on me. It’s Car
lisle policy to leave it in my car at work,” I said quickly.
“That changes now. As soon as you deliver his breakfast, go get your phone and keep it on you at all times. If Janey says anything, tell her to call me.”
Finally, she turned and left.
I rushed to the bedroom and almost cried in relief at being able to finally set down the breakfast tray. That was my strength training for the week. But for a split second, I forgot the fact that I wasn’t the only person in the room.
This would take some getting used to.
“You okay?” Jude asked, making me jump.
“Yes, fine. Sorry, the tray was heavy.”
“It certainly took you long enough,” he grumbled.
“I’m here now.” I set up the bed tray across his lap and laid the setting.
“Are you setting a bed tray? Seriously?”
I bit my lip in frustration. “If you would like me not to set the tray, all you have to do is ask.”
“I didn’t think I would need to ask for something so basic that common sense would suffice.”
I picked up the placemat and the extra silverware and put them away. “I brought up hardboiled eggs, oatmeal, toast, and yogurt. What would you like?”
“Your manners seem to be slipping this morning,” he said, eyeing me. “Where did all of the etiquette go?”
I gritted my teeth. “What can I get for you, sir?” I forced out.
He smiled. “None of that, actually. I think I need to sleep for a while. Fan me, please.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
He affected a look of shock. “I am not kidding. It’s stuffy in here, and I need rest.”
“I don’t have a fan.”
“Janey can get you one. Go on.” He waved lazily at me and snuggled down into his pillows. And dammit, even now I still wanted to join him. I hated myself for it, too.
I took a deep breath and headed to see Janey. I also needed to acquire my phone and get it charging so that I didn’t miss Margeaux’s calls. The last thing I needed was her calling Janey or someone else and demanding to know why I wasn’t answering my phone. Janey was suspicious as hell; she would immediately assume the worst.
BITTER PRINCE | A DARK COLLEGE BULLY ROMANCE: HEIRS OF HAVOC Page 7
