Chapter 26
[ 472 words ]
Chapter 26:
Mrs. Thompson bustled into the kitchen, her face flushed with excitement. She grabbed Caroline by the shoulders, her grip tight and manic.
“What are you doing hiding in here?” her mother hissed, her grip on Caroline’s shoulders tightening nervously. “Get back out there! You do not leave a man like that sitting alone!”
“I need a minute, Mom,” Caroline said, trying to pull away.
“I need to prepare a proper charcuterie board to go with the wine,” her mother said, her gaze darting around the kitchen frantically. “Your father is in the dining room trying to polish the good silver, but he’s making a mess of it. I have to go help him. Just go keep your husband company for a few minutes!”
Before Caroline could protest, her mother shoved her through the swinging door and disappeared toward the dining room.
Caroline stumbled back into the living room.
K.C. Bell was gone, having tactfully retreated to the Escalade outside.
𝗧𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗺
The room was quiet. Jarrod was standing in front of the brick fireplace, his back to her. He was studying the framed photographs on the mantle—pictures of Caroline in high school, Caroline at her nursing graduation.
Caroline took a deep breath. She walked over to the sofa and stopped behind it. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, building a physical barricade between them.
“Congratulations,” Caroline said, her voice dripping with cold sarcasm. “You used your money and your title to successfully buy my parents. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
Jarrod turned slowly. His gray eyes swept over her defensive posture. He didn’t look angry; he looked completely unfazed.
“That’s called efficiency, Caroline,” he said calmly. “I eliminated a threat to your peace of mind.”
“You didn’t eliminate anything!” she snapped, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper so her parents wouldn’t hear. “You just proved that you can manipulate anyone. But no matter what magic potion you fed them, or what paper a judge signed, we are still strangers.”
Jarrod went perfectly still.
“Strangers?” he repeated. The word rolled off his tongue slowly, laced with a sudden, dangerous rasp.
He moved. He took three long strides across the Persian rug, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed.
Caroline gasped and instinctively stepped backward. Her calves hit the hard wooden edge of the coffee table. She was trapped between the table and the sofa.
Jarrod’s massive frame eclipsed the light from the lamps. He stepped right into her personal space, caging her in.
He reached out with his left hand. His long, rough fingers gently but firmly gripped her chin, forcing her face up so she had to look directly into his eyes.
The lazy calmness was gone. His eyes were burning with a dark, possessive fire that scorched her nerve endings.
“Do not ever,” Jarrod warned, his voice a low, vibrating rumble in his chest, “use the word ‘stranger’ to define what we are.”
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