"Hmph, what's his deal—just doing me a favor, fuelling that big act!" Lila snorted to herself, tossing her head back. The moment she watched Grayson's figure recede, all of her momentary disappointment evaporated. In its place rose a renewed sense of disdain. Of course he had no interest in hearing her genuine gratitude; of course he just brushed her off like she was nothing. And with that thought, any trace of real regret vanished.
As for Grayson, his mind was on something else entirely. He needed to take Jasmine to see that villa—he should have told her about it yesterday, but Lila's drama had delayed him a full day. Now, more than ever, he was eager to share the news.
"Jasmine, where are you?" he asked into his phone.
"Oh, hi Grayson. I'm at the campus bulletin board right now," she answered from somewhere on campus.
"Just standing there?" Grayson sounded puzzled but didn't probe. "I'll come find you. I want to take you somewhere fun—heh heh!"
"No, please don't come!" Jasmine's voice sounded anxious. "I have something going on today. I probably won't have time to hang out with you."
"No problem. I'll come over and we'll figure it out."
After he hung up, Grayson was determined to go find her. From down the path, he spotted Jasmine as soon as he reached the bulletin board area. She stood before a long row of notices, head bent in concentration, as though scanning each flyer for some hidden detail.
"Hey, Jasmine!" Grayson called, gently tapping her shoulder from behind.
She glanced back, her eyes curving into a faint smile. That small upward arc of her lips was rare—she seldom smiled freely, but when her eyes bent like that, it meant she was genuinely happy.
Jasmine held up a finger to her lips in a "shh" gesture—she was on a call.
"Hello, I saw your ad—are you renting an apartment?" she asked politely.
"Yeah—$800 a month," the voice on the other end replied.
"Could you go any lower?" Jasmine hurried on before they could answer. "If I rent, I promise I'll keep the place spotless. I'm a Hawthorne University student—no parties, no strangers coming in. Only if, uh, every so often one friend might come visit. I'll treat your place with care. Could you please cut it down a bit?"
"Heh, $800 is the lowest I'll go. If you can't pay that, don't bother calling," the landlord snapped—and hung up.
Jasmine stomped her foot in frustration and released a long, frustrated sigh. Her eyes welled with tears. "Renting is impossible! My budget is only six hundred a month, but every place I look is eight hundred or more. Ugh…maybe tomorrow. Grayson, I really can't hang out with you today."
So that was what she meant by "I'm busy." Hearing that made Grayson's chest tighten painfully. He'd listened to every word of her conversation. She'd begged so humbly, trying so hard to sound responsible, so she could squeeze that extra two hundred out of the landlord. She'd run herself ragged in those shoes, tramping around all morning just to find a place she could afford.
He felt a surge of guilt. Here he was, heir to one of the world's most powerful families, taking a break for a leisurely day—even though the girl who stood by him, Jasmine, was sweating and straining just to find an eight-hundred-dollar apartment.
"Come with me," he said briskly, taking her hand.
"Where are we going?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"When you get there, you'll see."
Hawthorne University and Whispering Pines Estate were only a short distance apart. Grayson hurried Jasmine along, stepping off campus and heading toward the elegant gates of Whispering Pines.
"Ouch!" halfway to their destination, Jasmine cried out and dropped to a knee, clutching her leg.
"Jasmine, what's wrong?" Grayson knelt beside her in alarm.
"It's nothing—I mean, it's just my knee," Jasmine said, rubbing it gently. "I started apartment-hunting yesterday and walked so much my knees feel like jelly. Grayson, I can't go any farther."
Jasmine's long lashes fell as she stared downcast. "I'm sorry… I can't hang out with you anymore."
Grayson's heart ached. She'd been pushing on those sore knees the entire way because she thought he wanted to show her around. She had no idea where they were headed—she just assumed they were spending the day together. And once her knee finally gave out, she confessed it, though she'd hidden it the whole time.
His guilt deepened: if he had told her about the villa right after he purchased it yesterday, she'd never have needed to search for an apartment. She'd never be forced to trudge all over town until her legs buckled. In a sense, this was his fault.
"I'm going to carry you," he said firmly. He crouched, offering his back as a makeshift seat.
"Okay," Jasmine said, her eyes brightening into a small, grateful curve. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.
Grayson hoisted her carefully and continued along the winding road until they stood before the modest façade of his newly bought million-dollar villa—just one among the many at Whispering Pines. He kept the fifty-million-dollar estate he'd once considered hidden; it was far too ostentatious.
"We're here," Grayson said as he carried her inside the villa's grand entrance. Gently, he set her on the living-room sofa—only then did he notice she'd quietly drifted into sleep. No wonder she hadn't gasped at the opulence.
This was the first time Grayson had seen Jasmine asleep. Her skin glowed like the dew on a February morning—translucent, flawless, as though it would crack at the slightest touch. Her lashes fanned across cheeks tinted with a rosy hue; her lips were almost translucent. In the hushed light, she looked like an otherworldly sprite.
Grayson felt an almost irrational urge to lean over and kiss her cheek, but he restrained himself. She must be utterly exhausted—after yesterday's apartment hunt, her knees had throbbed, and this morning, she'd been walking again. No wonder she fell asleep.
Folklore said that if a woman could sleep resting on a man's shoulder, it meant she trusted him completely. Thinking of that, a sweet warmth bloomed in his chest. He moved gently, carrying Jasmine from the sofa to the guest bedroom's queen-size bed, tucking her in beneath the plush duvet.
He didn't want to disturb her, and he had nowhere else pressing to be. So Grayson settled into the living room with the TV remote in hand, ready to wait until Jasmine awoke.
After an indeterminate amount of time—perhaps half an hour—Grayson heard Jasmine's choked voice calling from the bedroom: "Grayson… Grayson…"
Startled, he sprang up from the sofa and rushed to the bedroom door. He swung it open just in time to see a clothes hanger hurtling toward his face like a speeding bat. With lightning-fast reflexes, he ducked sideways. The hanger clipped the edge of the doorframe with a clang, landing on the floor.
"Jasmine, why are you hitting me?" he asked, bewildered, stepping into the room.
Jasmine, eyes wide with alarm, was clutching the hanger as though she'd found a lifeline. She threw herself into Grayson's arms and wept, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I nearly died! I woke up and found myself in this strange place—I tried the door, and it wouldn't open. I thought someone was trying to hurt me!"
Grayson's guilt swelled anew. His heart plummeted at the thought of her waking to complete disorientation and fear. "There, there. You'll never be afraid here again," he soothed, stroking her back gently. "From now on, this will be your home."
"Really? This is…" she whispered, astonished.
"Come on, let me show you around," he said, offering his hand.
Grayson guided Jasmine on a slow tour through every corridor and room of the villa: the soaring ceilings, the gleaming marble floors, the gleaming stainless-steel appliances in the kitchen, the spacious master suite with its private terrace overlooking manicured lawns. Throughout, Jasmine stared in stunned silence.
"Grayson, how…?" she finally managed, jaw dropping. "What's happening? This is…incredible."
"This belonged to a friend of mine," he explained. "He's studying abroad, so he asked me to look after it. And I thought—why not let you stay here? You won't have to hunt for a place anymore."
"Truly?" Jasmine's eyes glowed, her voice trembled with delight.
"Of course," he said, smiling. "By the way—how's your knee?"
"After that nap, it's fine," she replied, flexing her leg experimentally.
"Great. Let's go somewhere else," he said.
Once more, Grayson led her outside the gated community and hailed a taxi at the entrance. They rode into downtown Cleveland, the city's skyline gleaming in the afternoon light.
"Where are we now?" Jasmine asked uneasily as they disembarked.
Before them stood a bustling commercial thoroughfare lined with storefronts and neon signs. They were at "NovaMart," a landmark shopping district in the city center.
"Follow me," Grayson said, tugging her gently toward the high-end boutiques. They passed several sleek glass windows until they arrived at the same luxury women's clothing boutique where Victoria had introduced Grayson a few weeks earlier.
Inside, a tall sales associate named Madeline Harper looked up in surprise when she caught sight of Grayson. Recognition lit her eyes at once, and her demeanor shifted to one of deferential respect. After all, Grayson was effectively the new proprietor of these retail spaces.
Grayson waved her off with a polite gesture, signaling that he didn't need her to announce him. Then he turned to Jasmine and said, "Pick anything you like."
Jasmine peeked at the price tag on a cream-colored silk dress hanging nearby and nearly swooned. Each item in this shop cost well over a thousand dollars.
"That's far too expensive," she muttered, tongue poking out in exasperation. "Let's just go home."
"Try this on," Grayson said, selecting the silk dress and holding it up against her figure.
Madeline hurried over. "Sir, that ivory silk dress is our last size. It's a hot seller, perfect for your girlfriend!"
"Thank you," Grayson replied with a smile, unfazed. "I'll take it."
Jasmine shook her head quickly. "No, really, I can't—"
But instinctively, as soon as she saw how luxuriously it draped, she found herself gazing at the fabric in quiet wonder.
"Don't worry about the cost. Try it," Grayson urged, leading her toward the fitting room.
Just as Jasmine was about to step inside, the door to the next fitting room swung open, and a young woman emerged holding a sky-blue cocktail dress.
"Miss, I'll take this sky-blue dress. Please wrap it up for me," the stranger told the sales associate.
The moment she looked up, her eyes locked onto Grayson and Jasmine. An expression of disbelief froze her in place.
"Grayson?" she said, astonished.
"Sirena?" Grayson replied, equally surprised.