Love Rents A Room

Chapter 91: Face To Face

Chapter 91: Face To FaceJoanne led Mr. Darcy to the northeastern corner of her property, her thoughts consumed by JD’s unsettling expression from that morning. The usual soothing breeze did little to ease the unease in her stomach, and the rhythmic thud of hooves, a normally calming sound, felt distant, like it was muffled underwater.

She followed the power cables,

The bear gave one last huff before turning and disappearing back into the woods.

Luca wiped the sweat from his brow, schooling his features into something softer—grateful, relieved.

"That was... scary," he said between breaths, forcing a sheepish chuckle. He straightened, taking a careful step forward. "Hi, I’m Johnny. Thank you for saving me."

Joanne remained at a cautious distance. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her—Caruso was still at large. But this man... he didn’t quite match the description of the one who had tried to kill her. Still, she didn’t let her guard down.

"I did nothing, really," she replied, giving him a hesitant smile.

"Still," he wiped his hands on his jeans, exhaling, "I owe you one."

She nodded, still studying him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just... lost my belongings while hiking. I could really use a phone to call for help."

She frowned slightly. He did seem genuine. "I didn’t bring mine with me, but you can come with me back to the house."

Luca smiled. But his eyes didn’t match the warmth on his lips. Inside, he was elated.

Lady Luck had done the work for him. Joanne Smith stood right in front of him. Alone. Defenseless.

Gotcha, Joanne.

I can have my way with you now.

-----

Meanwhile back in the house...

Jeffrey took the porch steps two at a time, his breath tight in his chest. He barely registered the imposing Rolls Royce parked in the driveway, but the sight of it sent a familiar surge of resentment clawing up his throat.

His grandfather.

For a fleeting moment, every buried wound, every scar from the past, ripped open again. The anger he thought he had numbed for years burned hot, fueled by the knowledge that Philip Winchester was here—for her.

For the woman who had ruined his life.

Jeffrey shoved the front door open, his heart pounding. His grandfather was right there, seated on the couch. His silver hair was combed back, his tailored suit unwrinkled despite the long journey.

His eyes were closed, his face composed as if he were merely resting.

The moment Jeffrey stepped inside, Philip’s eyes fluttered open.

Cool. Unreadable.

Yet, in the depths of that gaze, something flickered. Something only a Winchester could recognize. Calculation.

"Jeffrey..."

Philip’s voice was calm, almost pleased.

And that only made Jeffrey’s fists clench tighter.