Try to win Jessica over

You took a breath. This was part of the deal. A transaction. You turned away from the sight of Jacob's hand resting proprietorially on the small of Amy's back and focused on Jessica.

"Jessica," you said, your voice coming out steadier than you expected. "You look... absolutely stunning."

Her smile widened. She took your offered arm, her touch light but deliberate. "You clean up nicely yourself," she replied, her green eyes twinkling. "Come, let's get you a drink. You look like you need one."

She led you towards a sleek, modern bar set up against one wall of the living room. As you moved away, you heard Jacob's low murmur behind you. "I've been looking forward to this." You didn't dare look back.

Jessica handed you a glass, the ice clinking softly. She stood closer than was strictly necessary, her shoulder almost touching yours. "Don't worry about them," she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Jake likes to... assert himself. He likes breaking things in. It's his process. You just need to relax. Let me take care of you."

You took a sip of the drink, a strong, smoky whiskey. It burned a comforting path down your throat. "What? Don't you know I like to break in things myself." You held her glass for a long time.

Jessica's laugh was a low, musical chuckle. "Oh, I know you do," she purred, her fingers lightly tracing the cuff of your suit jacket. "But tonight, you're my guest. Tonight, I break you in." The way she said it sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with fear.

Across the room, Jacob had already captured Amy. He was leaning down, speaking directly into her ear, and you watched her face flush a deep crimson. She giggled, a high, nervous sound you'd rarely heard from her. His thumb was stroking her arm, a slow, possessive gesture.

You tipped back the rest of the whiskey in one go, the liquid fire a welcome distraction. Jessica watched you, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. She took the empty glass from your hand and set it on the bar, her fingers brushing against yours.

"Good boy," she murmured. Then she leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. "Now, why don't we show them how it's really done?"

Before you could process her words, she took your hand. Her grip was firm, confident. She didn't lead you towards one of the spare bedrooms, but towards the large, plush sectional sofa in the center of the living room.

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