CHAPTER 6

WILLIAM STONE.

I was uncuffing the sleeve of my long-sleeved shirt. Today had been long and stressful, and my social battery had run dry. Even though my job requires me to meet and talk to a lot of people, I still always hate it—mainly because it involves a group of power hungry individuals who were primarily attracted to my money. None of them cared about my personal life. And if they did, it was only to see what piece of information they could dig up and sell to make money off it.

Earlier, I noticed the look of shock when I walked into the masquerade ball, hand in hand with Jasmine. No one had ever seen me at a social event with a woman before, and rumors had long whispered that I might be gay. But now, with news of my marriage spreading, those whispers would finally die down—not that I ever cared what they thought. The society mamas who had hoped I would choose one of their daughters wore thin smiles and disappointed eyes. And I knew, at that very moment, a dozen speculations were already swirling, each one trying to unmask the mystery woman at my side.

They will be even more shocked when they find out it’s none other than Jasmine Carter—the fallen socialite… or, as I like to think of her, the girl who once shattered my heart.

I tugged off my shirt and collapsed onto my bed with a tired groan, stretching out my arms and letting out a huff of breath. That’s when I saw Jasmine standing a few feet away, looking utterly terrified.

Her brown, wet hair clung to her skin, droplets of water sliding down her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide and wild, like she had just seen a ghost. She clutched my white towel tightly against her chest, knuckles white from the pressure, as if she feared it would slip and expose her nakedness.

Not that I would mind. If I remember correctly, she was an attractive girl… and now, she is a sexy woman.

“Wh…what are you doing here?” she stuttered.

I raised my brows slowly, eyes scanning the room in mock confusion, then settling back on her. My tone was calm, maybe even a little amused.

“This is my house.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “I know that. But what are you doing in my room, half-naked?” Her eyes flicked sharply over my bare chest. “If you are trying to do something, let me tell you—”

I took a few strides toward her until I stood right before her. Close enough to feel the heat of her breath against my skin. I tilted my head slightly, watching her. I knew I was an attractive man—and I knew exactly the effect I had on people. I had mastered the art of silence, of presence. And right now, I am using it.

“Trying to do what, hmm?” I asked, my voice low as I leaned in, just enough to make her uncomfortable.

She swallowed hard. “I-I… I don’t—” she stammered, ripping her eyes away from mine. Her cheeks flushed instantly, betraying her. “The maid said this was my room,” she added, clearing her throat. “Maybe she made an honest mistake. Or maybe I didn’t listen carefully. But I thought this was mine.”

“You are right where you are supposed to be, Nerd,” I said flatly.

Her eyes lit up with recognition, snapping back to mine. Jasmine. The bookworm of high school. Clumsy. Unpopular. Smart enough to scare people. I used to call her a nerd all the time, and she had pretended to hate it—but I knew better. Jasmine liked being the most intelligent person in the room. She enjoyed her library corners and her quiet victories.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered, frowning.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know I won’t stop.”

She didn’t argue.

There was no eye roll, sarcastic clapback, or dramatic exit. Just a quiet sigh anda small nod. She looked tired…. and for some reason, it made something inside me twist.

I stepped back. “We will be sharing a room.”

“I can’t share a room with you,” Jasmine snapped, her blue eyes flashing. “Let alone a bed.”

“Well, you will have to get used to it,” I said. “We are getting married in a matter of weeks, and if we want people to believe it’s not some elaborate act, we might as well start living like a married couple. That includes sharing a bed.”

Her jaw tightened, “I don’t want to share a bed with you,”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “You are welcome to sleep on the floor then.”

Her face flushed, and I could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to process this situation. Jasmine had never been one for submission—especially not to me.

“You are supposed to be a gentleman,” she argued, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You are supposed to sleep on the floor, and I will take the bed.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’m no gentleman, Jasmine. And I will be damned if I let you have the bed while I sleep on the floor.”

I turned my back to her as I lay on my favorite side of the bed. I could almost hear her grinding her teeth as I pretended to fall asleep.

She stormed off into the bathroom to change into her pajamas, muttering under her breath as she went.

A few minutes passed, jasmine came out of the bathroom and cursed me under her breath

Jasmine.

I smirked to myself but kept my eyes shut, feigning sleep. I heard the soft rustle of her movements before she let out a frustrated sigh. The next thing I knew, I felt the pillow hit the floor beside me.

She was going to sleep on the ground after all.

I let the silence drag on, waiting. I could hear her soft breaths, the small sounds she made as she shifted, clearly trying to make herself comfortable. But I knew better. She wasn’t the type to let go of her pride so easily.

Sure enough, after what felt like hours—though it was probably closer to thirty minutes—Jasmine shifted again. I heard the faint rustle of fabric as she climbed back into bed, settling beside me.

I smiled internally, the victory tasting sweet even if she hadn’t admitted it. She was stubborn, yes, but I knew she won’t last a day on the floor. She wasn’t built for the hard life.