Chapter 232
[ 486 words ]
Chapter 232:
Caroline gasped as her feet left the carpet. Jarrod slammed her backward. Her spine hit the solid oak door with a heavy, breathless impact.
Before she could strike again, Jarrod grabbed both of her wrists with his left hand. He wrenched her arms upward, pinning them flat against the wood above her head.
She was completely immobilized.
Jarrod lowered his head. His nose brushed against hers. His chest heaved against her breasts. The dark, feral possessiveness in his eyes was suffocating.
“Your claws aren’t sharp enough, little cat,” Jarrod mocked, his breath hot against her lips.
Two floors down, the atmosphere in General Romero’s study was equally tense, though far less violent.
а𝘥𝖽𝗂𝗰tivе 𝘯o𝘷𝗲ls 𝘰𝗻 𝗀а𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷𝗲l𝘀.𝗰om
Carson Finch, the head butler, walked across the thick Persian rug, his footsteps completely silent. He stopped in front of the massive mahogany desk.
The General sat in his leather chair, sipping his morning tea.
Finch placed the leather-bound security logbook on the desk.
The General opened it. His cloudy blue eyes scanned the page, stopping on the kitchen surveillance report from the previous night. His thick white eyebrows pulled together.
“Miss Harper suffered an emotional collapse,” Finch reported, his voice completely devoid of inflection. “She destroyed the pastries you ordered to be distributed to the staff.”
The General’s hand stopped moving. The teacup hovered in the air.
A look of profound, icy disgust washed over the old man’s wrinkled face. He despised weakness. He despised family members who lost their composure like commoners.
The General dropped the logbook onto the desk with a loud slap.
“Stupid girl,” the General spat. “She has absolutely none of the Romero discipline.”
He picked up his pen, his knuckles white with anger.
“Keep her external communications severed,” the General ordered coldly. “If she steps out of line one more time, freeze the final payment from her trust fund and arrange for her to be transferred to our remote ranch in Montana. She can cool her head there until she learns some discipline.”
“Yes, General,” Finch said. He bowed slightly and backed out of the room. Harper’s standing in the family had just flatlined.
Back in the dim light of the third-floor bedroom, Caroline was still pinned against the oak door.
Her chest heaved violently, fighting for air against Jarrod’s crushing weight.
Jarrod’s dark eyes slowly tracked downward, following the rapid rise and fall of her collarbones. The mockery in his gaze shifted into a heavy, dark heat.
His free hand dropped to her waist. His rough thumb slipped under the hem of her thin camisole, tracing the bare skin of her side.
The invasive touch sent a violent shudder through Caroline’s nervous system.
“Thirty-day grace period,” Caroline gritted out, her voice shaking with anger. “Do not cross the line.”
Jarrod let out a low, vibrating laugh. The sound rumbled through his chest and pressed into her spine.
“You threw the first strike, Caroline,” Jarrod murmured, his thumb pressing harder against her hip. “This is just legal self-defense.”
The sheer arrogance of his logic made Caroline’s eyes burn with fury.
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