Page 66 of Tricked By Jack

When I’m done, I feel more like myself, and that makes my mood better. It also helps me focus, something I’ve failed at. So far, my attempts at getting away from Jack have been half-assed at best.

Sure, I tried to seduce him. But he turned that around on me, and it was… no. I need to keep my mind on the task ahead. I can’t keep letting him distract me with mind-blowing orgasms and his chiseled, perfect body.

Maybe being alone is for the best. Now I have time to come up with a new and better plan. One that won’t be ruined by hormones and a way too active libido.

Shaking my head, I braid my long hair, something that helps me think. I force my mind to run through my mental profile on my captor.

“No matter what your circumstances are, there’ll always only be one person responsible. You. You’re responsible for all your choices. Stop making stupid decisions, and life will be easier.”My dad’s words skitter around in my head, unbidden but true.

Leaving the bathroom, I hear the cold metal slide across the hardwood floor as I test the illusion of being free. With a small thrill of discovery, I realize I can reach the kitchen. Victory. I desperately need a cup of coffee.

Feeling excited, I pull open drawers, but they’re… empty. Well, most of them are. There’s no cutlery at all, and the knife block on the counter stands like a monument to absence, each slot vacant.

I scan the kitchen with methodical precision, noting the locked cabinets, the empty paper towel holder, the absence of anything glass or ceramic. He’s thought of everything obvious. So much for making myself some coffee.

Just as I’m debating whether to drink water from my cupped hand like some feral thing, I hear the front door open.

I freeze.

Keys jingle. A soft voice murmurs something unintelligible.

“Hello?” I call out, confused by the footsteps that are most definitely not Jack’s.

I look back toward the bedroom, wondering if I should hide. But before I can make a decision, Carolina steps into view. She’s carrying a bag in one hand and has a baby perched on her hip like a designer accessory.

“Hi,” she says casually, as if walking into a house where a woman is literally chained isn’t the strangest part of her day.

“Uh… hi?”

She sweeps past me without comment, shoes clacking softly, and heads to the kitchen island like she owns the place—which, considering her last name and Jack’s absence, maybe she does.

The baby babbles as Carolina sets a canvas tote on the counter and unpacks a collection of neat containers, none of which appear to have been opened.

“I brought enough for two meals,” she says, pulling out cutlery from her coat pocket like some Mafia Mary Poppins. “I don’t cook, but I know people.”

I open my mouth. Then close it. Then try again. “Jack sent you?”

She glances over her shoulder with an arched brow. “Did you think the food fairy broke in?”

Fair point.

She moves like she doesn’t give a single fuck that I’m shackled. Like this situation is nothing more than an errand she agreed to on her way to Pilates.

“Where is he?” I ask.

Carolina shrugs, expression unreadable. “Out.”

Helpful.

“Is that your baby?” It’s a stupid question given the similar facial features, but I’m desperate for some conversation.

“She is.” The love in her tone confirms it more than the words themselves.

“She’s cute,” I offer. I instinctively lift my hand and take a step closer, but when she looks at me, I stop myself in mytracks.

Her gaze isn’t sharp or cruel. But it’s enough to tell me that if Jack is dangerous, Carolina is… deliberate and calculated.

“Why did you bring her here? I mean, you don’t know me.”