Chapter 270
[ 477 words ]
Chapter 270:
Jarrod pushed off the counter and walked toward her. He stopped inches away, looking down at her with an expression that was still intense but no longer threatening.
“You knew,” he said quietly. “Before tonight. You knew he wasn’t chasing you.”
“I knew he thought he was,” Caroline replied. “I also knew he was wrong.”
Jarrod was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, his left hand came up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“You could have let me tear him apart,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Caroline said. “I could have.”
с𝘩𝗂n𝖾sе ո𝗼𝗏𝖾l𝘴 𝗍𝗋а𝗻𝗌𝘭𝗮𝘵𝘦d 𝗈𝘯 𝘨а𝘭ո𝗼𝗏𝗲𝘭ѕ.𝗰om
She met his eyes. The unspoken truth passed between them: she hadn’t. She had protected Julian, even when it meant enduring Jarrod’s rage. Not because she wanted Julian, but because destroying an innocent man would have poisoned something between them that she wasn’t ready to name.
Jarrod’s jaw tightened. He didn’t apologize. That wasn’t in his nature. But he pulled her gently against his chest and pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“Come to bed,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s been a long night.”
Jarrod’s dark eyes bored into Caroline. His left hand gripped the edge of the marble island so tightly his knuckles turned pure white. His right arm remained motionless at his side, the rigid outline of the field splint still visible beneath his shirt.
“Why?” Jarrod demanded, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury. “After weeks of marriage, why do your colleagues still treat you like a single woman available for late-night romantic pursuits?”
Caroline felt a sudden flare of defensive anger.
She pushed her hands firmly against his solid chest, creating a few inches of necessary breathing room.
“You have no idea how the real world works for someone like me,” Caroline said, looking up at him. Her voice trembled slightly, but it was laced with absolute resolve.
Jarrod scoffed. His tone dripped with arrogant, billionaire privilege.
“As Mrs. Romero, you own the real world,” Jarrod stated coldly. “You don’t need to hide from anyone.”
Caroline let out a bitter, exhausted laugh.
“The Romero name isn’t a shield, Jarrod,” Caroline pointed out, her eyes flashing. “In my workplace, it’s a massive, glowing target on my back.”
She took a deep breath, forcing him to listen to the brutal reality of hospital politics.
“If the staff knew I was married to a billionaire colonel, my hard-earned nursing career would be instantly invalidated,” Caroline explained. “Half the hospital would try to use me to get Romero Foundation grants. They would kiss my feet and analyze my every move.”
Jarrod frowned, the rigid tension in his jaw slightly loosening as he processed her words.
“And the other half,” Caroline continued, her voice cracking slightly, “like Melanie and Dr. Evans, would viciously accuse me of sleeping my way to the top. They would ensure I never touched a patient again.”
She looked down at the marble counter, the exhaustion of the day crashing down on her.
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