Page 6 of Tricked By Jack

Caleb: You didn’t say you were getting drunk, Eve. Now I have to take care of this by myself *winky face*

Before I finish reading, a dick-pic joins the thread.

We’re not serious enough for it to be okay that he checks in this much. It’s not that his texts are threatening, more like little reminders. Ways to tell me he knows where I am and what I’m doing.

And I can’t help but wonder how the hell he always seems to know, down to the minute, exactly where I’m at and what I’m doing.

The part of me that hates being controlled bristles, but the part I’ve only really been able to let out around him, thrills at the attention. Sighing, I leave him on read, refusing to let him end my night out.

Shelby catches my expression. “Boyfriend check-in?” she teases, her tone edged with something sharp. “Honestly, Eve, you should be happy. Most women would kill for a guy like Caleb keeping tabs. He’s hot, dangerous, and obsessed with you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snort, focusing on the first part of her tirade while locking the screen. My thumb lingers over it longer than it needs to. “But yeah, he’s checking in.”

She smirks, eyes glinting. “Don’t screw it up, Eve. Guys like Caleb don’t come around twice. He’s exactly your type of reckless. You should lean into it.”

Her words land wrong, feeling extremely pushy. I narrow my eyes, but when Shel doesn’t even blink, I let it slide. I’m probably reading her wrong, and I blame the alcohol for making me oversensitive.

“Yes ma’am,” I mutter, aiming for light but hearing the edge in my own voice.

Leaning closer, she lowers her tone. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it. A manthatinto you? I’ve seen your taste, Eve. You thrive on the kind of attention that borders on unhealthy.”

She’s not wrong, and that’s the part that bothers me. In my head, this is exactly what I want. Reality is an entirely different matter, one where Caleb’s way too much.

“I swear he has a magic dick,” I laugh, though what I don’t say is that it’s more than that — the way he takes without asking, the way he fucks like I’m there to be used. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.

“That good?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“You have no idea,” I say, my tone sultry. I fan myself exaggeratedly. “That man definitely knows what he’s doing.”

“Well, damn,” she cackles.

“Let’s just say that it’s people like Caleb that make it hard to argue why we shouldn’t be allowed to fuck our clients,” I smirk. “He’s the right amount of arrogant, and reckless. He’s exactly the kind of mistake I can’t resist.”

“Lucky bitch,” Shelby groans, draining her cocktail. “I need to get laid. It’s been seven months, Eve. Seven. Months.”

“Poor baby,” I tease. “Does this mean you’re over your ex?”

She sniffs. “I’ll never be over him. But I guess I’m ready to move on to some meaningless sex.”

“And here I thought your plan was to save yourself for the Sanctuary of Shadows. You know, for your future demon husband or whatever.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of the upcoming Halloween event. “Speaking of which, I got confirmation we’ll have our VIP tickets.”

The law firm she works at has handled some of the complex liability waivers, NDAs, and contracts for the organizers. While she either doesn’t know much, or can’t share what she does know, she did score us VIP access.

“Yes,” I exclaim, shimmying my shoulders. “I can’t wait.”

“God, I hope they choose me as a Bride,” Shelby says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you know the Brides get a private experience? Something exclusive, just for them.”

“Only you would be excited about being sacrificed to fictional demons,” I laugh, but there’s an answering thrill in my blood.

Everyone in New York has heard about the Sanctuary of Shadows, the notorious Halloween event on Governors Island. But no one really seems to knowexactlywhat it is. A carnival, a theater, or something else entirely.

Those who know are keeping tightlipped, including my best friend. I know she knows more than she’s letting on. But since I know all too well how complicated client/patient confidentiality can be, I don’t push her.

“Whatever,” she sighs. “If only you knew… well, never mind.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Alright, stop the dramatics, Shel.” When she pouts, I laugh, and signal the waiter to get us more drinks. “Okay, spill it. What are you so eager to tell even though you can’t?”