Filed to story: My Gorgeous Wife is an Ex-Convict Novel by Anastasia Marie
Grace remained silent. She understood the situation very well. After all that had happened, her uncle was not going to feel grateful to her for helping to release them. Instead, they would hold a bigger grudge toward her.
“They are people I don’t care about. I can’t be bothered no matter how much they hate me, or what they think of me,” she looked down and calmly replied.
However, such calmness made him inexplicably agitated.
“What about me?” he suddenly asked.
“What?” She was taken aback and could not react on time.
He rested both hands by the bedside and leaned closer. “What about me? Do you care about me? Are you bothered about what I think of you?’
Grace was stunned. If he was Jason, then she would surely care. However, he was now Jason…
guess you care less if I am bothered or not?
“What if I’m bothered about it?” He challenged her.
She bit her lip and took in a deep breath. “I care.”
He was shocked to hear her reply. “Reason being?”
“Because you’re Jason. You call the shots in Emerald City. A simple sentence from you can change a person’s life. Of course, I have to care about what you think of me. You’re well aware that I can’t afford to offend you.”
The price to pay for offending him was going through those repeated tortures in prison. She was afraid and fearful of it!
She was not in a position where she could go against him.
His mood abruptly worsened.
“Can’t afford to offend me? If that’s the case, why didn’t it cross your mind that you would offend me when you said you’re not willing to stay by my side!” he coldly chided.
She instinctively crouched lower.
He raised a hand and grabbed the back of her head to draw her face closer to his. He said to her in a flirtatious tone, “Last night after I brought you home, do you know what happened between us in this room?”
Her expression changed. “You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“Yes, I did say that. But even if I did do anything to you, so what?” he asked back.
Her complexion paled as her teeth bit down on her lower lip, almost drawing blood. Her pair of almond eyes no longer looked calm. Instead, the calmness was replaced with anxiety,
unrest, and hesitation.
At that moment, Jason felt his mood worsen.
He had said it to punish her for turning his mood sour. However, right now, he did not know who he was punishing.
He abruptly released his grip, stood up straight, and coldly said, “Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything to you. Unlike you who clambered all over me and wouldn’t get off.”
Grace was at first relieved when she heard the first half of that sentence, but the second half made her heart pound.
“Impossible!” She denied it right away.
He shot her a cold gaze. “Why is it impossible? You were so drunk that you don’t even remember what you did. Shall I help you remember? I can tell you last night about how you pressed me down onto the bed and kissed me.”
With every sentence he said, her face flushed a deeper shade of red.
By the time he completed his sentence, her face was indescribably red.
Grace hurriedly got down from the bed. “I’ll… go and wash up,” she uttered out before rushing into the washroom.
Jason’s gaze darkened as he watched the back view of Grace running away.
Inside the washroom, Grace looked at her blushing red face and sighed.
She could not bring herself to believe what Jason told her earlier. ‘I… pressed him down and kissed him?
‘How could such a thing happen!’
However, she hesitated. Was it truly impossible? Even she did not know what sort of things her drunk self would do.
‘If what Jason said is true, then I…’
The possibility of that gave her the urge to bury herself alive.
She hurriedly washed up and exited the washroom to find that Jason was still in her house.
Right now, he was sitting on a chair and gently sipping on a cup of water.
He was dressed in a well-tailored suit. He was a man with broad shoulders and a slim waistline. He had one leg elegantly crossed over the other. He had a handsome face with a profound contour and delicate features. When his eyelids lowered, those lashes fanned out prettily. One could not help imagining his breathtaking appearance if his eyes.
were fully opened.
Such a person was enough to please the eyes even if he was merely sitting there. He looked like a beautifully painted portrait no matter what he did.
Even if he was holding a worthless and ordinary cup, it did not bring down his value nor reduced the aristocratic aura he had within him.
‘Why have I never noticed this in the past!’
Grace chided herself inwardly once again. When Jason lived here with her in the past, she should have noticed that his every movement-the way he ate, his posture, and the subtle hint of his upbringing in his interactions- was not something a vagabond would have.
At the same moment, Jason’s eyelids lifted upward. That pair of exquisitely beautiful peach eyes looked at Grace. All of sudden, she felt as if her whole being was about to sink into his pupils.
“I… I need to get to work.” She broke out from her trance with much difficulty. It was already past nine in the morning, and she was late for work by a few hours. She was going to get a pay cut and reprimanded when she got to work.
“There is no need to rush. I’ve applied for leave on your behalf,” he said.
She was stunned for a moment. Subsequently, she heard him ask, “By the way, where are my clothes and things that I used to have here? Have you thrown them out?”
She pressed her lips but did not say anything.
“Also the pair of gloves that you made for me, have you thrown those out as well?” he stared at her and asked.
She hesitated before replying, “I kept it.”
‘Throw’. It was a wasteful word for her.
“Why didn’t you throw it?”
“It’s worth some money… I can still sell it as a second-hand item…”
Before she could finish her sentence, his face went completely dark. “You’re so capable of angering someone to death…”
Jason glared at Grace for a moment before saying, “Since you haven’t thrown it out, complete the gloves and give them to me.”
She was taken aback and stared blankly at him. ‘He doesn’t have any need to put up a show in front of me anymore. That pair of gloves were knitted from threads of an old sweater. Why does he want it? Is he going to wear it?’
For someone like him, the gloves he usually wore should be those custom-made from a luxury brand!
He watched her blank stare and added, “Consider it as your thank you gift for me releasing those splendid relatives of yours.”
She looked embarrassed. “But I no longer have the measurements.” Back then, she had used a measuring tape to measure the size of his hands.