Chapter 132
[ 504 words ]
Chapter 132:
The moment they crossed into the interior, the heavy steel door automatically swung shut behind them, sealing with a final, echoing click. The physical isolation was absolute.
Jarrod carried her through a massive, cavernous living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying, panoramic view of the Washington skyline, but the interior felt cold, industrial, and completely devoid of human warmth.
He didn’t stop in the living room. He marched straight toward a set of double doors at the far end of the hall.
He used his body to shove the doors open. It was the master bedroom.
𝗖𝗁і𝗻еѕ𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝘷𝘦𝗹𝘴 𝗍𝗋𝖺nѕ𝘭𝗮t𝗲𝖽 o𝗻 𝗴𝘢lnоv𝘦𝘭s.𝖼о𝗺
Jarrod walked over to the center of the room and carefully lowered Caroline onto the massive, king-sized bed. The dark gray silk sheets were freezing cold against her bare skin.
Caroline instantly scrambled backward, trying to get off the mattress.
Jarrod stepped forward. He placed his large left hand firmly on her shoulder and shoved her back down against the pillows, his right arm still held stiffly at his side. He leaned over her, his massive frame blocking out the light.
“You are staying in this room tonight,” Jarrod commanded, his voice leaving zero room for negotiation.
He didn’t wait for her response. He straightened up, turned, and walked back out to the foyer to retrieve the items left behind. Moments later, he returned, holding her clutch in his left hand. He placed it on the nightstand without a word. Then he walked directly into the adjoining walk-in closet, pulling the heavy wooden door shut behind him.
Caroline was left sitting alone in the center of his massive bed, her chest heaving, completely trapped in the heart of his fortress.
The heavy wooden door of the closet clicked shut, leaving Caroline in absolute silence.
She sat frozen on the edge of the massive king-sized bed. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. She waited for the door to open again, for him to come back out and finish whatever he had started.
But the door remained closed. A few seconds later, the faint, muffled sound of running water echoed from the adjoining master bathroom. Jarrod was taking a shower.
The sound of the water acted like a physical release valve. The suffocating tension in Caroline’s chest loosened slightly. He wasn’t going to attack her. He was giving her space.
She took a deep, shaky breath and forced her heart rate to slow down. Her operative training kicked in, overriding her panic with cold, calculated observation.
She stood up. Her bare feet sank into the thick, plush charcoal carpet. She began to sweep the room with her eyes, analyzing the environment.
The master bedroom was massive, easily over six hundred square feet. The aesthetic was brutally minimalist. Dark gray walls, matte black fixtures, and cold steel accents. There were no photographs. No books. No personal items of any kind. It looked like a high-end luxury hotel suite waiting for a faceless guest.
It was a perfect reflection of Jarrod Romero. Cold. Functional. Completely guarded.
Caroline walked slowly toward the open archway of the secondary closet space. She peered inside.
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