Chapter 23
[ 492 words ]
Chapter 23:
Seeing Caroline tumbling toward him with a startled cry, Jarrod’s reflexes fired faster than a normal human’s.
He didn’t flinch. He simply stepped forward and swept his uninjured left arm out.
He caught her mid-air.
Caroline crashed hard into the solid wall of his chest. The impact knocked the breath out of her. Her nose buried into the soft cashmere of his coat, instantly surrounded by the intoxicating, clean scent of cedar and cold night air.
Jarrod’s strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist, absorbing her momentum and pulling her flush against his body.
“So eager to welcome me, Mrs. Romero?” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating right against her ear.
𝗗𝗼𝗐n𝘭oa𝗱а𝗯𝗹e р𝖣𝘍𝗌 on 𝘨а𝗅nov𝖾l𝘀.c𝗼m
A wave of scalding heat exploded across Caroline’s face. She was mortified. She pushed her hands against his chest, trying to scramble backward out of his embrace.
Jarrod’s arm loosened just enough to let her breathe, but he didn’t let her go. He kept his hand firmly planted on her waist, maintaining a highly intimate, possessive hold.
“Caroline! Get away from him!”
Mrs. Thompson charged into the foyer, pulling the door wide open. She had her phone in her hand, ready to scream at the intruder.
But the words died in her throat.
She froze, staring at the scene on her porch. Her daughter was wrapped in the arms of a man who looked like he had stepped off the cover of Forbes magazine. The sheer, overwhelming aura of wealth, power, and physical perfection radiating from Jarrod hit Mrs. Thompson like a physical blow.
The porch fell into a dead, awkward silence.
Jarrod lifted his head. His gaze shifted from Caroline’s flushed face to Mrs. Thompson.
The dangerous, predatory edge in his eyes vanished instantly. It was replaced by a flawless, charming, high-society smile that didn’t reach his eyes but looked entirely convincing.
He gave a polite, measured nod. “Good evening, Mrs. Thompson. I sincerely apologize for the abrupt intrusion.”
Behind Jarrod, K.C. Bell stepped up onto the porch, his face completely blank, holding the stack of expensive gift boxes like a professional butler.
Mrs. Thompson’s mouth opened and closed. She looked at the cashmere coat, the luxury SUV idling on the street, and the handsome face of the man holding her daughter. Her brain completely short-circuited.
“G-good evening,” she stammered, her hostility evaporating into pure, intimidated awe. Her body moved on autopilot, stepping aside to clear the doorway.
Jarrod looked down at Caroline. A tiny, victorious smirk played on his lips.
Without asking for permission, he tightened his grip on her waist and guided her forward. With absolute, unyielding control, Jarrod Romero stepped over the threshold, invading the Thompson family’s territory.
Jarrod guided Caroline into the living room, his hand never leaving the small of her back. The moment they entered, the atmosphere in the house shifted, bending entirely to his gravity.
Mr. Thompson, hearing the commotion, emerged from his study down the hall. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he took in the towering, impeccably dressed man standing in his living room.
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