CHAPTER 12

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Jane POV

I sighed and exited the bathroom, figuring that I wasn't going to get anywhere staying in there all night.I still longed to get a hold of the juicy little piece of gossip about why Amanda had gotten fired—if only because if it was true, it might help me with my little situation.

I sought out Georgiana, as she was the closest to Peter and most likely to know what had gone on. I figured her and Alana were the only ones who would have a definite answer, and Alana had terrified me too much the last time I had tried to ask.

Georgiana was still talking to that man, gazing up at him like a love-struck teenager. She looked younger, too, when she was with him. Though her features were delicate and doll-like, I would have placed her at around twentyfive or so before. Now, looking at her with that bright light in her eyes, she looked no older than eighteen.

I huffed and walked over to my other coworkers, who were spread out around the room, seated in the various cliques that the office seemed to contain. I could see that some of my coworkers were already pretty drunk, and that made me feel better about my own tipsiness. I decided I would have another to help me loosen up.

Somehow, some way, another turned into another, which turned into another.

Before long, I was trying to find the number for a cab in my phone, but couldn't quite see the tiny writing.

Everyone was clearing out of the bar, and some were going out to another club. I decided it was time for me to go home, though, as I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of everyone. I would leave it on a high note. It seemed like I had actually made friends that night, and I didn't want to push my luck.

I was one of the few people left inside when someone came up beside me. "Having troubles?"

I looked up in surprise to see Peter. He had a lazy grin on his face, and was peering over my shoulder at my phone screen.

"I need a cab," I replied. "My phone's broken."

He chuckled, placing his hand over the one of mine that was holding the phone. "Let me take you home," he said.

"Nuh-uh, bud," I drawled. "I'm going back to my own home." I gazed determinately at him, before I realized he had likely meant that he would take me to my home, not to his home. "Whoops," I said when I made the realization. "You were offering me a ride."

He tipped his head back and laughed. "I still am."

I squinted my eyes at him. "Should you be driving?" I asked.

"I have a driver," he replied.

"Of course you do." Then I snorted. "Is his name Jeeves? Tell me it's Jeeves."

Peter cocked an eyebrow at me. "It's not Jeeves."

"I'll still take it. Lead the way." In my drunken state, I decided the best way to keep things professional was to then add, "Sir."

Peter put a hand on my lower back and guided me outside, where a black town car was waiting by the curb. He helped me in first, then slid into the seat beside me.

"Where do you live?" he asked, gesturing to the driver. I told the driver where I lived, and then Peter slid the glass partition closed.

While we drove, I was very conscious of just how close Peter was to me. I could feel his leg next to mine, the heat of it seeping through the fabric of his pants and into my bare thigh. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

Thankfully, I didn't live too far away from the bar we'd been at. We pulled up out front and the driver walked around and opened my door for me. Surprisingly, after I got out of the car so did Peter.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and smirked down at me. "I'm walking you to your door."

I slipped then. It was a moment of drunkenness. A moment of stupid, idiotic, inhibitionless drunkenness. Gazing at his per-fect face, I asked, "Do you want to come inside?"

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