Chapter 493
[ 528 words ]
Chapter 493:
To her utter astonishment, the General sided with her husband. “He’s right!” he declared, pointing a finger at her. “You look like a ghost. I’m going to have you on a high-calorie diet. We’ll have ten pounds back on you in a month, I swear it.”
The two most powerful men in her life were now conspiring against her, their earlier argument forgotten in their shared mission to fatten her up. It was absurd and unbelievably sweet.
To escape their joint offensive, she snatched the phone from the table, switched off the speaker, and walked over to the tall French doors that overlooked the dark, manicured gardens.
“Are you still there?” she asked, her voice low.
The line was quiet for a moment. Then Jarrod’s voice came back, stripped of its commander’s tone, now just a man’s voice, rough and laced with a vulnerability he would never show anyone else. “I am,” he said. He hesitated. “Was it… strange? Being away?”
It was the closest he could come to asking, Did you miss me?
She watched her faint reflection in the dark glass. “It was,” she admitted softly. “But someone has to stay here and make sure your grandfather doesn’t replace his decaf with jet fuel.”
A low chuckle came through the phone, a sound of pure relief. “You do that,” he said, his voice warm with a trust and affection that wrapped around her like a blanket. “Get some rest, Caroline.”
“You too, Jarrod.”
She ended the call and stood for a long moment, looking out at the darkness, the phone clutched in her hand. The house was silent behind her, but for the first time, it didn’t feel empty. It felt like a sanctuary.
Caroline turned from the window, a small, private smile on her lips. She walked back to the sofa and sat down, tucking her feet beneath her.
у𝗈𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝗂ly 𝗱оѕ𝘦 о𝗳 𝘯о𝘷𝘦𝘭s 𝘰𝗇 𝗀𝖺l𝘯𝘰vе𝗹s.𝗰𝗼m
“He’s bossy,” she complained to the General, her tone light and teasing. “He’s been in charge for so long, he thinks he can order everyone around. Even over a satellite phone.”
The General stroked his chin, a shrewd glint in his eye. “That boy is a block of ice to the rest of the world,” he observed, his voice rumbling with satisfaction. “It’s only with you that he melts enough to show how terrified he is of losing what’s his.”
Before Caroline could process the startling accuracy of his statement, the living room door opened silently. Agnes Petrenko, the head housekeeper, entered carrying a heavy, ornate silver tray. She was a stern-looking woman in her late fifties, with her grey hair pulled back in a severe bun, but her eyes held a surprising warmth.
She placed the tray on the coffee table and lifted the domed silver lid. A cloud of steam billowed out, carrying the rich, savory aroma of chicken and herbs. Caroline’s stomach, which had been a tight knot of anxiety for weeks, let out a loud, embarrassing growl.
The General heard it and grinned, a wide, triumphant expression. “You heard the lady, Agnes. The largest bowl you can find. And a side of that crusty bread from the baker in town.” He looked at Caroline. “You will eat every last drop.”
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