Page 30 of Tricked By Jack
My jaw tightens until it aches. I ball my fist against my thigh and breathe through my nose, slow and even, but it doesn’t help. All it does is feed the image of her lips parted in joy that doesn’t belong to me.
Eve should be afraid, not delighted. She should be reliving the feeling of my fingers deep in her cunt, the feeling she experienced when I threw Caleb down the stairs. Fuck, even that envelope I dragged across her throat.
There’s a rustle like they’re moving closer to the shared wall. But I don’t care what they’re doing. Not really. Because every sound she makes that doesn’t belong to me now feels like betrayal.
“What are you wearing for the opening?” Eve asks.
“I’m not sure yet,” Shelby answers, her tone wary. “I mean, I don’t even know if we get to keep our own clothes.”
Shelby knows exactly what’s going to happen, but I’m glad to hear she’s keeping my secrets. Still, I text Ned while the women discuss clothing options.
Me: Are you aware how close Shelby and Eve are?
Ned: Yes. But it’s not a problem. My sister will do what’s expected!
I furrow my brows, annoyed with his reply. That’s how Nick sounds when he doesn’t want to admit he’s not fully in control over a situation. I’m halfway through tapping out a reply when there’s a knock on Eve’s door.
“Ohh, do you think it’s your masked stranger?” Shelby’s excited voice easily carries through the walls.
Pocketing my phone, I make my way to the door and ease it open so I can see and hear what the fuck’s going on.
“I’ve got a delivery for a Miss Mortis,” a male voice states.
“That’s me,” Eve replies, sounding confused. “Who’s it from?”
“Who cares?” Shelby interjects. “Look at the rose, it’s gorgeous.”
I lean further out, just enough to catch a glimpse of the allegedly gorgeous rose. When I do so, Shelby catches my movement, and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead when she sees me.
“Hey, just sign for it so we can get back inside,” she says, nudging Eve. When Shelby looks my way again, I shake my head. That delivery isn’t from me.
“Who is it from?” Eve asks again.
The guy glances at his tablet. “A Caleb—”
“Nope,” Eve cuts him off sharply, stepping back like the name is an insult. “Tell him to fuck off.”
The courier blinks. “Uh… miss… I just have to—”
“No,” she repeats, folding her arms. “You can take it back to him and tell him he can shove it.”
Shelby’s eyes flash with something akin to sadness. “I miss getting flowers like that,” she says wistfully.
Eve ignores her, still glaring at the courier. “I’m being serious. Oh, wait… can I pay you to deliver it to him?”
The guy hesitates, then holds out the rose anyway, like proximity might change her mind. “Umm, sure.”
Grinning, Eve tells him she’ll be right back. Then she disappears for a couple of minutes, and when she returns, she’s carrying cash that she offers to the delivery guy.
“Do you have a pen?”
He nods and pulls one from his shirt pocket. She accepts it, and takes the card from the rose, quickly scribbling a message of her own.
“Caleb… go to hell, you pathetic loser. Not with love, Eve.”
I’m leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a slow curl of amusement tugging at my mouth. My Little Bride telling some delivery boy to carry her profanity back to the sender is entertaining.
“That’s vicious,” Shelby whistles. “Kicking a man while he’s already down. And after he took a beating for you nonetheless. Damn.”
