Love Rents A Room
Chapter 114: Escalating Troubles

Chapter 114: Escalating Troubles

Joanne felt utterly overwhelmed.

Everything was piling on at once—her business, the media smear campaign, Luca’s family, and worst of all, Jeffrey.

A few days ago, if someone had asked her, she would have boldly declared that she hated him.

But now...

Did she?

She could end this right now—throw him out, push him away for what he did in the past. But when she searched her heart, she couldn’t find the strength to doubt him.

If he was pretending, then he had to be the best actor in the whole fucking world.

Or... was she just desperate for love?

No, it was more than that. It had always been more than that.

Jeffrey was her sore spot. A raw, unhealed wound. A soft spot she could never quite let go of.

If his love was real—if what he was showing her now was genuine—then did she really want to throw it all away because of past betrayals?

She wanted to think about him longer. To only think about him. To be one of those women whose biggest concern was decoding a boyfriend’s mixed signals or complaining about a husband’s bad habits over brunch.

But she wasn’t one of those women.

She never had been.

Her life had never been peaceful.

Maybe she just wasn’t meant for that kind of happiness. Maybe she was the unluckiest person in the whole damn world.

But she didn’t have the luxury of indulging in self-pity.

There was work to do.

She was about to call her lawyer when her phone buzzed.

A message.

From Jeffrey.

She opened it without hesitation.

It was just a name and a phone number.

Before she could process what it meant, her phone rang again.

Jeffrey.

And once again, she answered without thinking.

"Mark Greenberg specializes in cases like this," Jeffrey said without preamble. His voice was sharp, focused. "He charges five grand an hour, but he’s worth it. Trust me. Call him now. He has the right connections. We need to act—now."

She exhaled shakily. "You saw the news?" Her voice wavered.

"Everyone’s talking about it," he said. "Call Greenberg first. I’ll be home for lunch."

Joanne swallowed the lump in her throat. "Okay..."

There was a brief silence. Then, softly... gently... he said, "Jo."

Her breath hitched. The way her name came out of his mouth, the warmth that spread through her heart...

"Don’t worry. We’ll get through this."

The words hit her like a punch to the chest.

We.

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

He said we.

Her heart fluttered.

Joanne made the call.

The lawyer seemed surprised that someone had reached him on that number. It was probably his private line, but he remained professional. He listened patiently as she gave a quick rundown of the situation.

"I’ll send someone over," he finally said.

Joanne thanked him and ended the call.

She couldn’t stand sitting around in the house. The walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. So, she saddled up her horse.

Mr. Darcy was still recovering, eager but not quite strong enough. So she took Jeffrey instead.

Fluffy trotted alongside them as she rode across her land, the cool breeze clearing her mind.

By lunchtime, she returned, feeling slightly more composed. She made a simple sandwich for them both, but just as she was about to finish, her phone buzzed with a notification.

Someone was at the gates.

She checked the security feed. A sleek BMW sat just outside.

Frowning, she unlocked the gate, watching as the car rolled in. The door swung open, and stepping out was...

Mark Greenberg.

Joanne blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to show up personally. He’d said he would send someone, not that he would come himself.

Then, another car pulled in right behind him.

Jeffrey.

As realization dawned, she exhaled sharply. Of course. Of course Greenberg was here because of her connection to the Winchester family. He must have looked into her.

She could have been offended by it. Could have refused his help on principle.

But pride wouldn’t protect her company.

That old man—Philip—would be disappointed if she let her ego get in the way. And she needed help. Her company, her employees... everything she had built with blood and sweat was on the line.

She wasn’t about to risk it over a bruised sense of independence.

"You seem to be a pretty big deal around here," Greenberg remarked, glancing around.

Joanne forced a small, awkward smile. Yeah. And half the town is throwing stones at me for it.

"Jeffrey."

Jeffrey stepped forward, offering a handshake. Greenberg accepted it, his gaze lingering on him for a second too long.

He recognizes him.

Joanne said nothing, pretending not to notice as they all settled into the living room. She turned on the TV, wanting to check if the media frenzy had escalated further.

Of course it had.

The screen displayed a live broadcast, few of the reporters standing in front of Tailor Caruso’s shop.

Her stomach dropped.

Tailor Caruso was the oldest member of the Caruso family. The patriarch. The media must have caught wind of that and swarmed his shop, eager for a statement as Luca Caruso’s sister wanted further investigation into her brother’s death.

Joanne’s fingers curled into fists.

"This trouble?" Greenberg asked, noticing the color drain from her face. He had done some research into her and knew who that tailor was.

She exhaled slowly. "Our families have a long history... and we still hold grudges."

That was an understatement.

She hated the Caruso family. And they hated her. The feud had spanned decades. Almost a century. It was in their bloods. And the Caruso family is known to stand for their family, no matter what. Justice was secondary.

And now, the reporters were pushing Caruso into the spotlight, trying to stir up old wounds.

As if on cue, the shop door swung open, and out stepped Tailor Caruso himself—his wrinkled face twisted in visible annoyance at the reporters crowding his doorstep.

Joanne’s pulse quickened.

Damn it.

She knew exactly what was coming next.

In his anger, Caruso would spit venom against her. He always did. And this time, it would spiral into something far, far worse.

Her heart pounded.

And then... out of nowhere... A warmth covered her hand.

Joanne looked down.

Jeffrey’s big hand that still had the wound from when he punched Caruso, was covering up her hand.

Steady. Solid.

Like he was telling her...

You’re not alone in this.