Because of Her
by Jewel E. Ann
Self-Published
Book 5 in the Jack & Jill Series
“If sin weren’t pretty, it wouldn’t be so tempting.”
I was an accomplished music professor.
Happily single.
Perfectly content.
Now, I’m unemployed.
Pining for a dark, brooding guy named Jack who lives in a garage with a piano.
And I’m plotting to seduce a married man because his daughter is responsible for my nephew committing suicide.
I don’t know why teenage girls are so mean.
I don’t know why rich men cheat on their wives.
And I don’t know why Jack has serial killer vibes, even though he leaves me speechless every time he speaks.
All I know for sure is that I feel safe in a stranger’s arms and understood by someone I don’t understand.
“You should be a little scared of everyone because humans are unpredictable.”
How far will I go for revenge? More than that …
How far will he go to save me?
Genre #DarkRomance
Triggers
Violence, Murder, Suicide, Bullying, Arson, Sexual Assault, PTSD that results in extreme fear and refusing to leave the house.
Now this ... this was the ending to the series that I needed.
Since reading these books, I always felt that Ryn and Jackson's overall arc was ... meh. Mildly exciting, but predictable. Sitting and thinking about it, though, it never could have lived up to Jessica and Luke's story.
So, while it's heartbreaking that Jackson loved Ryn deeply, and lost her tragically ... I'm glad he got his own book.
Jackson deserved all the attention this time.
I loved everything about this book. The overall story was interesting, heart wrenching, and beautiful.
Two people, both dealing with grief, coming together, despite everything against them. Including themselves.
AHHHH! It hurts so much not to tell you more, but ... spoilers. I do NOT want to ruin this book for you.
All I can really say, besides the writing, as per usual, was splendid, the romance was just ... top tier. Painfully beautiful, and definitely sexy.
So, so sexy.
It wasn't just the chemistry between Frankie and Jack. Jewel wrote these characters in a way that they feel like they were soulmates. Which is what I know I needed for this story, because it had to stand next to and not be toppled over by Jess and Luke's story.
Their intense bond through music just added a beauty to their romance.
Because of Her was a beautiful conclusion to this series. It lived up to the intensity of the series, and left me with a smile on my face ... and wanting more, because I didn't want to say goodbye to these characters. No lie, this series was one of my favorite to read this year.
My lips twist.
Francesca: “We’re all dying.”
Eloise: “We are, but my husband said the best thing to do while you’re waiting to die is to live. He had a good life.”
Jack: “Letting go is hard.”
Jack’s gaze drops to the floor.
Francesca: “And holding on is an illusion.”
I open the door.
Francesca: “Thank you for fixing my toilet. Good men are a dying breed. So … don’t die.”
Francesca: “I’m not scared of anyone,”
Tying a woman up was never Jackson’s MO. The need for that level of control has always been his sister’s weakness. And because of her, Jackson learned just how much the need for control can be a person’s biggest weakness. Frankie’s entire body goes rigid when Jackson cups her jaw, gently forcing her head against the door until her unblinking eyes flare, and she swallows her next breath.
Jack: “You should be a little scared of everyone because humans are unpredictable.”
Frankie grips his arm with both hands, digging her nails into his flesh.
Francesca: “Are you a little scared of me?”
Jackson lowers his face to hers, and she wets her lips.
Francesca: “I’m more than a little scared of you.”
Jack: “Francesca, don’t ever let a man touch you unless you want it as much as your next breath. Selling your soul is worse than suicide. Dying is easy. Living is really fucking hard.”
Then that ninety-nine percent clears its throat and kicks me in the gut. It’s ….UGH! It’s really my mom who clears her throat. Jack stills with his back to her, staring straight at the wall while tucking himself into his briefs and zipping his pants. I snap my knees together. There’s no hiding that I’m naked from the waist down.
Mom: “Francesca Adeline Holter …”
I have no fucks to give at this point. We’ve been here before. Jack’s a soldier. He stands guard in front of me like my mom’s not in the room. He even casually slides his hands into his pockets, but he doesn’t look at her, not even a glance over his shoulder. I lean to the side and give my mom a tight grin.
Francesca: “What’s up, Mom?”
With her infamous O expression and slow-blinking eyes, she shakes her head.
Mom: “Eloise wondered if a little ginger oatmeal might soothe your stomach. But it looks like you’re getting your fill.”
Rubbing my lips together, I nod several times.
Francesca: “I’m working on it. Tell her thanks.”
Dad: “How old are ya, Jack?”
Jack scratches his jaw.
Jack: “I’ve lost track.”
Mom: “What do you do?”
Jack: “Depends on the day. Some days I do a lot, other days not so much.”
I bite back my grin when my parents share a funny look.
Mom: “Francesca, you were …”
Mom clenches her jaw. She can’t even say it.
Mom: “Doing that while your father and I were in the same house. A house that’s not your house. And you were … doing that with some random guy who lives in a garage and has no manners whatsoever.”
Francesca: “For the record, he went down on me first, so you can’t say he has ‘no manners whatsoever.’ And yes, I was giving him head in a bedroom with the door closed while other people were in the house. It’s no different than being in a hotel room. The fact that you barged in on us is not my fault. It’s yours. Think of all the times John or I happened to open your unlocked bedroom door without knocking, only to discover that you like to do it doggie style or that Dad wears socks during sex. So before you point fingers and accuse someone of uncouth behavior or suggest that their actions are somehow a ‘crisis,’ maybe you should focus on yourselves. Or maybe you should start giving me some goddamn credit for all the hard work I’ve put into my life, the amount of success I’ve achieved, and how I’ve managed to do it without drinking myself to death and putting a bullet in my head.”
Jessica: “Who did you find to touch your pee-pee?”
Jessica asks Jackson the second she answers her phone.
Jackson continues to pace the garage, feeling jittery because he’s losing focus. And he’s losing focus because Frankie did, in fact, touch his pee-pee.
Jessica: “The girl. You’re compromised because of a girl.”
Jackson bristles.
Jack: “She’s a woman.”
Jessica: “We’re all just girls at heart when it comes to love.
Jessica: “Have you met my husband?”
Jack: “He’s a good man.”
Jessica: “You’ve never thought that.”
Jackson nods to himself. As with all the women in his life, no man will ever be good enough for them.
Jack: “Tell him hi.”
Jessica: “You mean tell him to keep his dick out of your sister.”
Jack: “I think you tie him to your bed on the daily. I’m not blaming him for your issues.”
Jessica: “Fuck you.”
Jack: “Love you too, Jess.”
He grins, ending the call.
Frankie’s going to town with an ax on the thick trunk of the oak tree, sweat dripping down her face and saturating her gray tank top.
Jack: “Chainsaw would be easier.”
She stands with a huff and drops the ax.
Jack: “Where are the folks?”
She swipes her arm across her brow.
Francesca: “They disowned me and headed home.”
He nods slowly.
Jack: “And now you’re mad at the tree?”
Francesca: “Did you ask Jack?”
Eloise: “Yes, but he said he doesn’t go out at night.”
I narrow my eyes.
Francesca: “Is that so? Past his bedtime?”
She laughs.
Eloise: “Perhaps. It’s just another mysterious thing about him.”
Francesca: “Maybe nighttime is when he chops up the bodies.”
She glances at the garage and hums.
Eloise: “I’ve thought about that. He never stays past sunset when I invite him to dinner.”
Francesca: “Exactly.”
Jack: “I’m not doing this. If you parade around here naked, don’t say his name. It’s like you want him dead. Is that what you want, Francesca?”
I turn with my dirty clothes gathered in my arms.
Francesca: “If I say his name, you’ll kill him?”
Jack:“I’m going to kill him. You mentioning his name will only expedite it.”
Jack: “He was going to rape you.”
I shake my head over and over. Pained lines crease his forehead.
Jack: “I know you think it’s just flesh and bones, just a vehicle. But this flesh and bones is how you experience the world. It gives you perception. The mind needs a body, and the body needs a mind. As long as you’re alive, you can’t separate the two. If he takes something you don’t willingly give to him, it won’t just break your body; it will destroy a part of you that will never mend.”
I blink back a new round of tears.
Francesca: “I’m willing to give it to him if it makes things in my world a little less wrong.”
Jack frames my face with his hands, desperation filling his eyes.
Jack: “They’re gone, Frankie. Nothing can make that less wrong. And maybe you’re willing to give him your flesh and bones, but I’m not.”
Francesca: “What is … this? Us?”
I release him and skate my hand up his chest.
Francesca: “Who am I to you?”
I slide a leg over him, straddling his torso while kissing along his neck. His fingers tangle in my wet hair while he sits up, so we can look into each other’s eyes. My nipples brush his chest when I lift onto my knees and lower onto him, letting him fill me physically … emotionally … and all my tiny fractured places. Jack’s teeth scrape along his lower lip, masking his grin while he hums. He deposits a series of slow kisses all over my face.
Jack: “You’re the girl I kiss good night.”
Francesca: "And Gunner?”
A reluctant smile steals his lips before his eyes alight with something I know is a great memory.
Jack: “Ryn’s German Shepherd. He wasn’t a fan of mine for a long time. Eventually, she convinced me to make a ‘permanent’ commitment to him. And in return, he would be loyal to me forever.”
Francesca: “And?”
Jack chuckles.
Jack: “Hell no. He hated me ’til the day he died.”
Francesca: “Go back to the motel. Fight your war. Don’t let me and my stupid ideas get in the way.”
Jack: “I just needed space because you were all up in my face.”
Francesca: “I’m trying to give you all the space in the world, but you’re following me. Jack!”
she screams when he grabs her arm, turns her around, and tosses her over his shoulder to haul her back to the motel room.
Jack: “I knew … I just knew, from the day we met, that you were going to be a royal pain in my ass,”
Francesca: “I’m not in your face!”
She pounds her fists into his back.
Francesca: “And I’m not up your ass.”
Thud. Thud. Thud. Her unrelenting blows don’t phase him. He kicks the motel room door shut behind them and tosses her onto the bed. Frankie’s eyes narrow, and steam billows from her flared nostrils. Jack rests a hand on his hip and sighs.
Jack: “I don’t know what to do with you.”
Francesca: “Let me go.”
Jack: “I can’t let you go because I don’t want to let you go. Sometimes, I am Baines. And sometimes I am Alisdair. And your stubbornness is most certainly Ada. I can’t stop thinking about you. And I can’t let you go. My feelings are far from pure, and they’re undoubtedly irrational. So that makes it my job to protect you … to save you. So here we are in a place I swore I would never be again.”
Jack: “What is tantric sex?”
Jackson cringes the second he asks the question. How does she bait him into these conversations?
Francesca: “A fellow professor and her husband went to a retreat. I don’t think it was called a retreat, but that’s what I had in my head when she explained it. From what I gathered, it’s very powerful lovemaking. The fusion of desire, sexual energy, and passion aligns with your heart and spirit. It’s healing and transcendent. An orgasmic state that feels psychedelic.”
Jackson presses his lips together to keep from showing any discernible reaction. She smirks.
Francesca: “But I’ve never been married. I’ve never been in a committed relationship, so it was laughable to me. Then…”
she twists her lips for a second
Francesca: “…I watched you play your piano with your shirt off. And you asked me to play the same piano without wearing any clothes. And I realized we share something intimate through music.”
Jackson opens the door. He’s not into this conversation.
Jack: “Will you settle for the drive-thru and eating in the car?”
Frankie rolls her eyes.
Francesca: “Stop sweeping me off my feet.”
Tacos and a shared side of nachos in the front seat of his BMW. Their first official date.
Francesca: “It’s a little tacky that you drove us back here to eat in the motel parking lot. The least you could have done was drive us somewhere secluded with a view. I might’ve felt more inclined to do something like give you head or let you see my nipples.”
Jackson snorts with his fist at his mouth while he swallows before choking on his food. Frankie crumples her empty wrapper and stuffs it into the sack while slipping off her shoes and placing her bare feet on the dash, her dress sliding to the top of her thighs. Jackson hasn’t felt this mesmerized by a woman since Ryn crawled around on the floor, cleaning the bathroom while unintentionally shaking her backside. She was hired to clean the house. And he was in the middle of a renewed vow of celibacy. The timing couldn’t have been worse, much like now. Life and the powers that be don’t seem to give two fucks about timing.
Jack: “I saw your nipples the first day we met. They’re always excited to see me. But I’m intrigued by your other offer.”
He wads up his wrapper and adds it to the sack.
Jack: “Let’s go find a view I like.”
He backs the car out of the parking spot.
Francesca: “I need to like the view too.”
As he pulls onto the main road, Jackson chuckles.
Jack: “You’ll be staring at my balls.”
Francesca: “I thought someone your age would turn me down, citing something to the effect of ‘front-seat blowjobs are unbecoming of a lady. And you, my darling Francesca, are too much of a lady. I can’t let you commit such a salacious act. Let’s find a song befitting the moment and dance under the full moon. Holding you in my arms fulfills my heart’s desire more than oral sex ever could.’”
Jack slowly blinks at me with no perceivable reaction to my words.
Jack: “You lost me at someone your age.”
Making duck lips, I tap my chin.
Francesca: “Of which I don’t know. So I don’t know how I lost you there.”
Jack: “You’re right.”
He drags down the zipper of his jeans.
Francesca: “You lost me at the part where front-seat blowjobs are unbecoming of a lady.”
I frown. It’s a little fake, but I’m not sucking his dick with a smile, even if I’m happy to do it. Standards matter. I lean over the console and slide my fingers into the waist of his briefs to free him. Before I expose him, he drags in a sharp breath and slowly releases it, stopping my hands from going further.
Jack: “What song?”
I tip my head back and gaze up at him, resting my hands on his thighs.
Francesca: “Huh?”
Jack stares out the windshield.
Jack: “If we dance under the full moon, which is only a three-quarter moon, what song is befitting of the moment?”
I sit up, grinning out of control while Jack tries to act like he’s making a huge sacrifice. He’s not. He’s being incredibly romantic. I snatch his phone and bring up his music app while hopping out of the car. He takes his time. When I find the right song, I set the phone on the hood and slide my hands around his neck. Jack looks over my head at the lake but can’t hide his tiny grin. As Patty Griffin starts to sing “Heavenly Day,” I softly sing the words.
No clouds. No trouble. The smile on Jack’s face. Yeah, it’s enough for me.
With his hands around my waist and our bodies swaying to the music, I rest my ear against his heart. Archer Sanford doesn’t scare me. The thought of dying doesn’t scare me. The only thing that scares me is falling in love for the first time since Aiden Walker over twenty-five years ago. I lift onto my toes, resting my lips next to his ear.
Francesca: “I’m not wearing a bra.”
Jack: “I know.”
Francesca: “I’m not wearing anything under this dress.”
Jack: “I know.”
Francesca: “Then what are you waiting for?”
Jack: “For the song to end.”
I grin, kissing his earlobe.
Francesca: “Jude, Jackson, Jack …”
I unbutton his jeans and drag down the zipper while kissing his neck.
Francesca: “You might be the greatest experience of my life.”
I glance up at him while sliding down the front of his briefs.
Francesca: “Does that make me pathetic?”
He blinks slowly, a heavy, drunk blink, while my hand wraps around his erection.
Francesca: “Or does it mean you’re extraordinary?”
He wets his lips while the corners of his mouth quirk into a sly grin.
Jack: “Maybe both.”
My hands cover his when his forehead comes to rest against mine.
Francesca: “I’m afraid one day soon you won’t kiss me good night.”
He lifts his head, a sad expression stealing his handsome face while he nods gently.
Jack: “Me too.”
Slade: “You can put down your gun.”
Jackson shakes his head.
Jack: “Nah. I’m good.”
Slade scratches his scruffy jaw.
Slade: “She’s pregnant.”
He grins with pride. Fucker.
Jack: “Yeah. I heard you stuck your dick in my daughter again. I might need to remove it to feel better about the world again.”
Slade: “Speaking of dicks. I heard someone has willingly chosen to fondle your gray balls. Where is she? I can’t wait to meet her. How’s your memory? Do you remember to take your pill so you can have a nice four-hour erection?”
He brushes past Jackson, ignoring the gun pointed at his head.
Slade: “Does she know you’re a grandpa?”
Slade: “You left me to die,”
Slade says. Jackson nods several times while leaning against the door and crossing his arms.
Jack: “But you just had to hold on for the paramedics.”
He rolls his eyes.
Slade: “Who would put his dick in your daughter if I died?”
Jackson frowns.
Jack: “That guy in there? I don’t like him. So you don’t like him. He’s supposed to be protecting my daughter, but he’s fucking that up by thinking I need his help more than she needs his protection. He’s not staying with us. Don’t engage with him. Don’t look at him. I will probably kill him if he doesn’t do as I say.”
Her brows shoot up her forehead. He opens the door and drags her back into the motel room.
Jack: “Time to go,”
he says matter-of-factly to Slade, keeping the door open.
Slade: “Livy wanted me to show you photos of Wylder. Do you want to see them?”
He holds up his phone. Fuck.
Francesca: “Who’s Wylder?”
Frankie asks because she can’t follow simple instructions.
Slade: “Jackson’s grandson,”
Slade says. Jackson gives Slade a look. His daughter doesn’t know how to play fairly. She knew Jackson would be upset about Slade’s arrival, so she used one of Jackson’s greatest weaknesses to soften his reaction.
Francesca: “Jack,”
Frankie whispers before pressing a hand to her mouth. He swears her eyes are welling with tears.
Francesca: “You’re a grandpa? H-how old are you?”
Slade: “Fif—”
Slade starts to speak.
Jack: “I will end you. Got it?”
Jackson warns Slade.
Jack: “Apparently, he’s knocked up my daughter again. See why I’m going to have to kill him?”
Slade: “Well, as tempting as a threesome with the old man sounds, I’m going to grab food and get some sleep,”
Slade says, pocketing his phone. Frankie turns.
Francesca: “Where are you staying?”
Slade chuckles.
Slade: “There’s no way I’d share that information.”
She rolls her eyes.
Francesca: “He’s joking about killing you.”
Slade heads toward the door.
Slade: “He’s not.”
Jack: “We’re not talking about it,”
Jackson says when he slides into bed after his shower. He rests his hands on his chest and stares at the ceiling while I shut off the television.
Francesca: “Not talking about what? Your family? Your age? My willingness to help you kill Archer. The mind-blowing sex we had by the lake earlier? Why you act like you despise your son-in-law?”
Jack: “Yes. All of it.”
He rolls toward me and pulls me into his arms, scissoring his legs with mine.
Jack: “Except for the sex. We can talk about that.”
Francesca: “I was pretty good tonight.”
I kiss his chest.
Francesca: “Well above average. You were okay. You could have washed your car before pinning my naked body to it. And I feel like you could have said thank you for the blowjob. But now that I know you’re a grandpa, I feel a little bad. You could have fractured a hip, thrown out your back, or gotten a hernia from holding the weight of my body for so long.”
Jack: "Love is so fucking crippling. It’s a minefield—a bunch of … potholes waiting to make you stumble. And when the source of that love dies, you’re left in the dark—lost and confused—until someone takes your hand and shows you the way out. Until you find a new light.”
Slade: “I’m not allowed to let you go on a suicide mission.”
Jack: “What makes you think I’m dying?”
Slade: “You have no plan. You’re outnumbered. And you have to extract a hostage before you can take Sanford out. Oh … and you’re just old.”
Jack: “Fuck you.”
Jackson fastens his tactical vest.
Jack: “I don’t have a vest for you, so you can’t go.”
Slade heads toward the door.
Slade: “Do you think I came without my own gear?”
He opens the door.
Jack: “Then why are you stealing my shit?”
Jackson hikes several guns onto his shoulder, along with a range bag of extra ammunition.
Slade: “Because I’ll need to be more heavily armed than you once you get caught.”
He follows him out the door.
Jack: “What makes you think I’m getting caught?”
Slade shakes his head while trekking to his vehicle.
Slade: “Again … you have no plan. You’re outnumbered. And you have to extract a hostage before you can take Sanford out. And you’re just old.”
Jackson’s shoulders relax. He’s resolute in his mission and resigned to the possible outcome. And as much as he hates the circumstances that brought Slade into his life, there isn’t anyone else he’d want to have his back. Slade is a young Jude Day.
Slade: “Livy and Wylder will get me killed. Thinking about them is like—”
Jack: “Removing the part of your vest that covers your heart,”
Jackson interrupts to finish the phrase he heard a million times during his training. They don’t think about the people they love. There’s no room for vulnerability, and love is the most vulnerable emotion.
Jack: “Aren’t you going to ask me how I know where to drop them?”
Slade: “No. If you don’t have the layout of his house memorized, then I will lose what little respect I have for you.”
Jackson shuts the trunk.
Jack: “At least one of us has respect for the other.”
Slade: “Livy didn’t get pregnant right away. I had to stick my dick in her a half dozen times a day for a solid two weeks every month before—”
Jackson pulls out his handgun and presses it to Slade’s forehead.
Jack: “If you ever use the word ‘dick’ in the same breath as my daughter’s name, I’m going to cross another thing off my bucket list.”
Slade: “You’re such a morbid fuck.”
Jessica: “It took a week to get you stable enough to transport you from a makeshift hospital in Kansas to a makeshift hospital here in San Francisco. Your doctors are old—pulled out of retirement and, quite honestly, struggling with dementia. But you’re alive, so let’s not leave anyone a bad review.”
Livy and Jessica share matching frowns.
Jessica: “Luke, do something.”
Jessica jerks her head in Jackson’s direction. Luke narrows his eyes at Jessica.
Jessica: “He’s not thinking straight,”
she says through clenched teeth as if Jackson can’t hear her. With a sigh, Luke eyes Jackson.
Luke" “Would you like to talk about this with me in private?”
Jackson answers with a look. It’s the are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. Luke shrugs at Jessica.
Luke: “There you have it.”
Francesca: “I can’t believe you’re a grandpa.”
Jack: “No?”
He leans back, crossing his arms.
Jack: “Why is that?”
Her cheeks flush.
Francesca: “You have the uh…”
her lips press together for a beat
Francesca: “…the stamina of someone much younger than fifty-something.”
Jack: “Thanks. You don’t fuck like an old lady either.”
Frankie snorts, covering her mouth.
Jack: “I love you,”
Jackson interrupts with a declaration that seems to knock her off kilter.
Jack: “I didn’t come here to find my piano or see the fall foliage. I came here because I love you. And I miss you. And I need to know what happened the night of the fire. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He feels weak in his confession, but the women in his life have always been his greatest weakness and his greatest strength. Frankie is no exception.
Music has, in many ways, always been my first love. Perhaps it will be my last. If my greatest love affair is with these notes and the images they inspire, the peace they bestow, I will die having experienced an emotional dimension unlike any other. Music reaches further than words. It stretches past the heart and settles into the soul, where it belongs. Music bestows hope. It unearths memories. It sparks joy. It’s without judgment. And it never dies.
Jack releases my breasts, and I release his wrists. Then he places my hands over my breasts where his had been.
Jack: “You’re so beautiful, my love.”
I laugh, but it releases as a sob. A shaky. Frightened. Sob. I can’t do this … He guides my hand along my stomach.
Jack: “Benevolent.”
His lips skate along my neck while he slides my hand into the front of my panties. My heart tramples itself as one beat tries to rush past the next, skipping it altogether.
Jack: “You’re simply exquisite.”
He presses my finger over my clit and slides it farther between my legs. Each breath rushes out with a sharp whoosh. Jack’s giving me back control over my body.
Jack: “I end things, Frankie.”
His lips brush my jaw. I close my eyes, inching my legs apart.
Jack: “I don’t know how to let them go.”
He squeezes the hand over my breast, and my back arches into our touch.
Jack: “But I’ll let it go if it’s the only way to hold on to you.”
With Frankie, he doesn’t feel like a fifty-something grandpa. He feels like a twenty-something who can’t get enough of the girl he loves.
Francesca: "I feel like I ran twenty-six miles of a marathon, and just as I saw the finish line, I tripped. Broke my nose. An arm. A leg. And lost half of my teeth. And everyone cheering me on looked at me like … how? How does one come so far only to fall and completely unravel with just two-tenths of a mile ahead?”
He lifts his gaze, eyes red.
Jack: “Let me carry you. Close your eyes and let me carry you to the finish line because. I. Fucking. Love. You.”
She frowns.
Francesca: “Jack, this is a step, but I’m not cured.”
Jack: “It’s a step forward. You made it twenty-six miles. I said I'll carry you to the finish line.”
His lips twist.
Jack: “I’d say you’re at twenty-six-point-one-three-nine miles.”
Jack: “Frankie, I don’t have to touch you to be intimate. Because I remember what it felt like to hold you in my arms, to kiss you … to be intimate with you. So, every look is intimate. It’s personal. It’s me … loving you from near or far.”
Francesca: “If you carry me to the finish line, I’ll carry you for the rest of our lives.”
Francesca: “Take off your clothes before you play for me.”
Jackson squints at her.
Jack: “Is that your kink?”
Francesca: “I’m too fucking sophisticated for kink. I simply know what I like.”
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