Angered

Katie followed Jerome as he dragged her into the room, her steps hesitant and her heart thundering in her chest.

The door slammed shut behind them with a force that made her jump, the sound reverberating in the confined space.

Jerome released her hand, and Katie instinctively pulled it close to her chest, wincing as she noticed the faint red marks left by his grip.

Jerome’s gaze flicked down to her hand, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened.

He looked almost regretful, but the moment passed quickly.

Without a word, he turned and strode across the room, heading straight for a wooden cupboard.

Katie stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say, as he rummaged through its contents with a brusque determination.

The tension in the room was stifling. Katie’s eyes followed his every movement, her breath catching when he finally turned around, holding a small medical box.

Jerome’s face was unreadable as he walked toward her.

Her mind raced. Why is he coming closer? What is he going to do? Anxiety clawed at her throat, and before she realized it, she had taken a step back.

Jerome noticed her retreat and halted, his brows furrowing. “What are you doing?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

“I—I’m sorry,” Katie stammered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to cause problems between you and your friends, I promise!”

Jerome’s frown deepened. “Shut up,” he said bluntly, his tone more exasperated than angry.

And before she could protest further, he grabbed her hand again—not harshly this time, but firmly enough to guide her toward the bed.

Katie’s legs felt like jelly as he maneuvered her to sit down.

His large hands came to rest on either side of her, boxing her in.

Her breath hitched as he knelt in front of her, the proximity making her pulse race uncontrollably.

“Sit still,” he ordered, his voice softer now but still carrying an edge of authority.

Katie nodded mutely, her wide eyes locked on him as he gently took her hand.

The contrast between his earlier roughness and the care he now showed was startling. He opened the medical box and pulled out a tube of cream.

“This might sting,” he said, not looking at her as he squeezed some of the cream onto his fingers.

Katie flinched slightly when his fingers made contact with her skin, but the cool sensation of the cream quickly eased the discomfort.

Jerome’s touch was deliberate and surprisingly gentle as he massaged the cream into the red marks.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound so loud in her ears that she was convinced he could hear it too.

She dared to glance at his face, and the sight of him—so focused, so close—made her breath catch again.

Jerome’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers, and the world seemed to tilt. Katie couldn’t look away, trapped by the intensity of his gaze.

Time slowed, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in existence.

Her pulse quickened, and she was certain her heart was about to burst.

Jerome’s hand lingered on hers for a moment longer before he let out a small sigh.

His gaze remained locked on hers as he slowly began to lean closer.

Katie’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move. All she could do was stare at him, helpless under the weight of his presence.

His face drew nearer, the space between them shrinking until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

Just when she thought he might close the gap entirely, Jerome abruptly stood up, breaking the spell.

“Rest here,” he said, his voice low and gruff. He turned away from her, his movements stiff and controlled. “I don’t want them saying those things about you.”

Before Katie could respond, Jerome walked out of the room, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts and the lingering heat of his touch.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Katie let out a shaky breath, her hand trembling as she reached up to touch her still-flushed cheeks.

Meanwhile Jerome stood just outside the room, leaning against the wall, his chest heaving as if he had run a mile.

He tapped his chest lightly, muttering to himself.

"No," he said under his breath, his voice firm yet laced with uncertainty.

"You can’t fall for her. Remember what they’re like—women are all the same. Lies and pretenders, every single one of them.

" He straightened, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Get a grip, Jerome."

With one last glance at the closed door, he shook his head and walked away, heading back toward the gathering.

As he approached the table where his friends were still seated, the air shifted.

The laughter and chatter that had filled the space moments before died down, replaced by an awkward silence.

All eyes turned to him as he resumed his seat, his expression unreadable.

One of the men, a burly figure with a rough laugh, broke the silence cautiously. "Uh, hey, Jerome... Look, man, about earlier—"

Jerome cut him off, raising a hand dismissively as he reached for his drink. "Don’t worry about it."

The man hesitated, then pressed on. "We didn’t know she was, you know... yours. It’s just... Well, you’re not exactly known for keeping a woman around, so it kind of threw us off. No offense."

Jerome glanced up briefly, his eyes cold. " What are you guys sorry for, exactly?" he asked.

Another man, lanky and sharp-tongued, chimed in, his tone careful.

"We were out of line. Didn’t mean to disrespect you or her. It was just... a misunderstanding."

Jerome set his glass down and smirked, though there was no warmth in it. "Misunderstanding?

Don’t worry about it." He leaned back in his chair, his tone turning flippant. "Maybe when I’m tired of her, I’ll pass her around to you. How about that?"

The men exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado completely gone.

The burly one opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it, unsure of how to address the sudden shift in tone.

As if their reaction didn’t matter, Jerome turned his attention to a pregnant woman from the pack who had approached him, seeking his guidance on something.

He engaged her in a brief, serious conversation, his demeanor calm and authoritative.

The men at the table watched him in silence, their unease growing.

One of them finally whispered to the others, "Wasn’t this the same guy who stormed off with her a few minutes ago? What’s going on with him?"

The lanky one shrugged, his voice low. "I don’t know, but something’s definitely off. You think he’s...?"

The burly man shook his head. "No way. Jerome doesn’t care about women like that. Never has."

They all fell silent again, their gazes flicking between Jerome and the direction of the room where Katie still was.