Page 19 of Wrapped Up

The Christmas lights twinkle innocently above us, providing a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. As the red liquid slowly drips down Jack's jawline, a part of me feels satisfied for standing up to him, while another part mourns the connection that never truly existed between us.

Peter bursts in from the kitchen, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. “What the—”

Anna rushes to my side, her jingle bell earrings tinkling discordantly. “Jenn, what's wrong? What happened?”

I can't tear my gaze from Jack's face. His eyes burn into mine, unblinking. He doesn't flinch, doesn't back down. It only stokes the inferno raging inside me.

“What's wrong?” I laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that scrapes my throat. “What's wrong is that you've invited a lying, cheating bastard into your home.”

I turn to Peter, my voice dripping with venom. “You should know, Peter. Your colleague here? He's the worst kind of man there is.”

Peter's brow furrows in confusion. He grabs a handful of napkins, offering them to Jack with a mumbled, “I'm so sorry.”

The gesture ignites a fresh wave of fury within me. Sorry? He's sorry? To him?

“Don't apologize to him,” I spit. “He's the one who should be sorry.”

Anna's grip on my arm tightens. “Jenn, honey, what are you talking about? How do you know Jack?”

I huff out a breath, my lips curling into a cynical smirk. “Oh, we go way back. All the way to last month, in fact.”

I turn to Anna. “Remember that guy from the club?” The one who made me feel things I'd never felt before? The one who tied me up in the stairwell and fucked me senseless, I scream in my head.

Anna's eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth. “No, you mean...”

“That's right,” I nod, my gaze sliding back to Jack.

He's still watching me, his expression unreadable as he dabs at his face with the napkins. “Meet your perfect match, Anna. The Christmas Prince himself.”

Anna gasps, her head whipping between Jack and me. “But... but that can't be right. Jack's not—”

“Not what?” I interrupt, my voice rising. “Not the type to seduce a woman and then go home to his girlfriend? Not the kind of guy who'd make you feel special, wanted, or desired, only to turn around and call another woman 'Honey'?”

The words pour out of me, a torrent of pain and anger I've been holding back for a month. I can feel the others' stunned gazes, but I can't stop. Won't stop. The dam has broken, and I'm drowning in the flood.

“Well, newsflash, Anna. He is exactly that type. So congratulations on your matchmaking skills. You've managed to find the one man in New York who could make me feel even more worthless than I already did.”

I finish, chest heaving, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the cheerful tinkling of “Jingle Bells” from some godforsaken decoration.

And through it all, Jack just stands there, his eyes never leaving mine, a storm brewing in their depths.

Suddenly he breaks his motionless stance and turns to Anna, his eyes softening in a way that makes my stomach churn. “Anna, could I have a moment with the princess?”

Princess. That damn endearment again. I cringe, scowling at the warmth that threatens to bloom in my chest. Get it together, Jenn. He's playing you. Again.

Anna's eyes narrow with suspicion, and I can't help but feel a surge of warmth towards her as she steps between us. “Is what Jennifer says true? Did you deceive her like a heartless bastard?” Her voice is firm, laced with barely contained anger. “Don't even think about messing with me. Tell the truth.”

I can't hide the smirk that tugs at my lips.Got you now, asshole.

But Jack remains unfazed. His gaze remains steady as he replies, “Yes, I'm the guy from the club last month. But there seems to have been a big misunderstanding that I need to clear up with your friend.”

Then he leans in and whispers something to Anna that I can't hear, and suddenly she looks different. Her face loses its anger and changes to something else.

“Peter,” she calls out. “Let's give them some privacy. We'll be in the kitchen if you need us, Jenn.”

What. The. Actual. Hell.

“Anna!” I shout, panic rising in my throat. “You can't be serious. He's lying.”

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