Love Rents A Room
Chapter 188: Barging In

Chapter 188: Barging In

Joanne wasn’t hungry. But... she had come all the way here, so she decided she might as well enjoy her stay.

She rarely stayed in hotels, and this time, she had booked the best suite. It had every amenity imaginable. People always said money couldn’t buy happiness, but those people clearly never grew up poor. Money might not be everything, but it could certainly buy comfort. And with comfort came a certain kind of peace— the kind she had always longed for.

The bathroom alone felt like a sanctuary. The jacuzzi tub released elegant streams of water that washed away her weariness, soothing her muscles and softening the knots of tension in her shoulders. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the warmth.

She had never enjoyed a bath this much in her life.

As the water lulled her, she found herself wondering how much a tub like this cost. Maybe she could buy one. Install it in her Rockchapel home, make that place even more of a refuge.

Sleep tugged at her, the bath making her drowsy. With a reluctant sigh, she said to herself, "Let’s get out," and climbed out of the tub.

She wrapped herself in a plush robe, too tired to do anything else. She had no plans to go down to the restaurant. If she got hungry, she’d just order room service later.

Curling up in comfort, she checked the cameras back at her house. Fluffy was settled in the barn with the guard dogs. Poor thing must be lonely without her. But everything else looked fine. Prim. Proper. Quiet.

Her gaze drifted to the large flat-screen TV. She opened the minibar and grabbed a fancy bottle of wine, passing over the whiskey this time. She poured herself a glass and brought a plate of cheese over to the recliner. She then ran to get the whole bottle and placed it near the chair.

Why not?

With the robe barely tied and a wineglass in hand, she sank into the buttery-soft chair. The room was quiet, dim, and perfect. She scrolled through the available movies, ready to lose herself in something light and mindless.

Then...

A knock at the door.

She froze, wineglass halfway to her lips.

It was probably a mistake. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She didn’t move.

But the knocking came again. Firm. Intentional.

She groaned, reluctant to leave her cocoon of warmth. But the knocking didn’t stop.

With an irritated sigh, she got up and padded barefoot to the door, peeking through the peephole.

*Thump*

Her heart dropped straight to her stomach.

There he was.

Jeffrey.

Too familiar. Too distant. Too much.

"Go away..." Joanne mumbled under her breath. Her voice was barely a whisper, but maybe he heard it.

What was he even doing here?

She hadn’t come all the way to see him. Right?

Through the peephole, his face leaned in, startlingly close. He pointed a finger directly at her eye as though he could see her through the door.

"Open," he mouthed.

Joanne stumbled back. Her heart thudded like a drum in her ears. It almost felt like he could see her.

But no—of course not. He couldn’t see through the door.

Still, the intensity in his eyes had shaken her. She turned away, her robe fluttering open slightly with her movement. She was too rattled to notice, too distracted by the absurdity of this moment. Surely, he’d leave. This was a prestigious hotel. The Winchester name meant something. He wouldn’t risk a scene.

But the knocking only grew louder.

More urgent.

More public.

Joanne clenched her teeth. He was going to wake the entire floor. What if someone took a photo? What if security was called?

With a frustrated groan, she marched back to the door and unlatched it just enough to slide the chain across and open it slightly. She peeked out.

And froze.

He had stopped knocking the moment their eyes met. For a second, neither spoke. Jeffrey simply stared at her through the narrow opening, and the expression on his face...

Like seeing her filled something empty inside him.

Joanne’s throat tightened. "I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Winchester. Please, do not disturb me."

His eyes flinched. "Mr. Winchester?" he repeated with a scoff. "That’s what I am to you now?"

No longer Jeffrey.

Joanne saw it—how the name stung. But she had to draw a line. She closed the door.

What was she to him? A distraction between obligations? A nostalgic phase? He had a family with another woman. What right did he have barging into a single woman’s hotel room in the middle of the night?

Then the banging resumed. Loud. Threatening. Impossible to ignore.

"Open the damn door, Jo. Or I’ll wake up the whole floor. They’ll have to drag me out. I’ll cause a scene. Do not think I won’t."

She stiffened.

He wouldn’t...

But he would.

With a hiss of frustration, she yanked her robe closed and tied the belt tight. Her cheeks flushed hot, not just from anger but from the sheer audacity of him. She needed him gone.

Now.

She flung the door open.

Surely, he wouldn’t cause a scene—not when she was standing there in nothing but a robe.

"What?" she snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief, bracing herself for some remnant of decorum to stop him. He was a Winchester, after all—bred for poise, steeped in propriety.

He wouldn’t barge in.

Right?

Wrong.

She had severely underestimated just how far past the line he was willing to go.

The moment the door opened wide, he stepped inside—fast, deliberate, and entirely unapologetic.

With one assertive motion, he brushed past her, the soft swish of his coat trailing in his wake as he walked into the suite like he owned it.

"Mr. Winchester!" she gasped, spinning on her heel. "You can’t just barge in like this!"

But the door remained ajar. She hadn’t closed it. Hadn’t even imagined needing to—because she’d expected him to leave, not invade.

"We need to talk," he said, settling into the plush couch as though it were his own. Calm. Collected. Infuriating.

Joanne stared at him in disbelief. He refused to meet her eyes, instead turning his face toward the window, pretending to admire the glittering city lights outside. The view didn’t need his attention. He just didn’t want her to see what was in his eyes.

Coward.

She bit down the fury rising in her throat and walked over to the door, slamming it shut with a decisive click.

Fine.

If he wanted to talk, then they would talk.