enemies to lovers with jack schlossberg slowburn asf

f o u r

You sarcastically applauded Jack, your eyes narrowing at him. "Is the little speech over, Jack Schlossberg?" you asked, your clapping slow and deliberate. For the past twenty minutes, he had been on a tangent about constitutional rights, the Supreme Court, and oil production. Your amusement had peaked midway through; it was clear he was attempting to provoke a reaction from you.He chuckled softly. "My babysitter doesn't appreciate good education, huh?" he teased, his lip caught between his teeth as he raised his eyebrows playfully. Glancing down at your phone, the notification buzzed like a lifeline—a text alert. You had just twenty minutes left to gather the information you needed."Enough of the theatrics, Schlossberg," you snapped, finally settling down next to him.

He raised his hands in a gesture of mock defense, palms outward and fingers splayed, exhaling sharply through pursed lips as you settled into the chair beside him. The corner of his mouth curled in a playful smirk before he reached out, plucking the glasses from your hand. With deliberate nonchalance, he set them down on the table beside him, his gaze meeting yours with challenge.

Your initial reaction was one of anger, your mouth falling open slightly at the act of disrespect.
Annoyance and fatigue wash over you—annoyance at his childish behavior and fatigue from the long hours.
Despite the urge to confront him, you couldn't muster the energy to play along with his games.
Instead, you took a deep breath, choosing to focus on the task at hand.
Adjusting your posture, you turned your attention back to the room, ready to proceed with the discussion.

You opened your briefcase with the important documents in it. Inside were organized folders containing CCTV timestamps, potential alibis, and mugshots linked to drug deals spanning across various states. These were the critical pieces you needed to confront Jack with, and time was swiftly running out with just 20 minutes left on the clock.

As you laid out the papers on the table before him, Jack watched with a nonchalant demeanor, his eyes looked over the images and documents before him. "I need you to identify what you see here," you stated firmly, your voice cutting through the silence of the room.

He studied each photograph and timestamp with a deliberate slowness, "A nightclub I was at," he began, pointing to the first image. "Drugs right?," he continued, indicating a detailed report. "And me," he added, his finger landing on an image of him outside the nightclub from one of the files.
"My turn." He looked at you again.
"This isn't some sort of game, Schlossberg," you snapped.

"Yeah?" he nodded slowly, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied the images before him with a guarded expression.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before showing him another photograph, this one depicting the victim. "What was your relationship with the individual you assaulted prior to the incident?" Your voice was calm but insistent, emphasizing the importance of his response and the seriousness. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the photo, his jaw tightening.

"What provoked the altercation at the nightclub?" you continued, leaning forward slightly, "Were there any witnesses to the altercation? If so, can you provide their names or contact information?"

"Who are you acting like this for?" he scoffed with distrust as he glanced dismissively at the guards standing sentinel around the room. With a cynical tilt of his head, he directed his gaze upwards towards the unblinking surveillance cameras perched ominously in the corners.

You maintained a composed demeanor, refusing to be swayed by his attempts to divert the conversation. Instead, you methodically presented another photograph: an image depicting a table littered with bags of substances, documented by the law enforcement.
"Did you consume any alcohol or drugs before or during the altercation?"