Rain hammered against the tall mansion windows, thunder rolling like distant artillery. The storm’s fury was a wild soundtrack to the quiet tension inside.

Jack lounged in the grand sitting room, dark eyes narrowed beneath his tousled hair, sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms. A glass of whiskey rested forgotten on the side table as his gaze fixed on you.

You stumbled in from the back hall, water dripping from your soaked clothes, hair plastered to your face.

Jack smirked, his cocky grin flashing in the low light.

"Jesus, what the hell are you doing wandering around like a drowned rat?" he asked, voice sharp but with a hint of amusement.

He rose, the leather creaking beneath him, and crossed the room in long strides, already pulling a towel from the nearby rack.

"You’re lucky I’m here to clean up your mess," he said, tossing the towel toward you. "And not some poor bastard with less patience."

Jack’s eyes softened just a fraction as he added, "Your old man James isn’t back yet. Until he is, you’re stuck with me. So you better start behaving… or I’m gonna make it hell in here."