The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason POV:

Standing in the dimly lit hallway outside Ella’s apartment, I felt like I was caught in a whirlwind. My emotions churned—a cocktail of frustration, disbelief, and an ache I couldn’t quite describe. Ella leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as though we were discussing some harmless prank, not her proposal of a contract marriage. A contract marriage. Seriously?

I ran a hand through my hair, buying time to calm the thoughts racing through my mind. This woman had no idea what she was doing to me. Did she honestly think I’d walk away from her after a year? That I’d marry her, spend 365 days waking up to her, learning every tiny detail of her life, and then just... let her go?

Yet, there she stood, so confident in her plan, completely oblivious to the war waging inside me.

"I’ve got an idea," she had said moments ago, her tone light, as if she were brainstorming the theme for a college party and not proposing a life-altering arrangement. "Let’s do a marriage contract—one year. By then, I’ll have proven to my dad that I can handle everything without any help from a husband."

The smirk on her face as she spoke those words was enough to drive me insane. Not because I disagreed—God knows I’d agree to anything that kept me close to her—but because she truly thought this was just a convenient business deal. No strings attached, no emotions involved. Just a neatly packaged solution to her problem.

"Your father is going to have my head when he gets wind of it," I replied, half-joking but mostly serious. The thought of Charles Kingsley finding out about a fake marriage nearly made me shudder. The man was terrifyingly perceptive, and I was fairly certain he could ruin me with a single phone call.

Ella shrugged, completely unfazed by my concern. "And that’s why no one must know. After the year ends, we can say things didn’t work out. You’ll be free to marry the woman of your choosing."

The woman of my choosing? What the hell was wrong with her? Didn’t she see that she was the only woman I wanted? That she’d been the only one for as long as I could remember?

I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, to shake some sense into her, to tell her that this plan of hers wasn’t just ludicrous—it was torturous. But I didn’t. Because as absurd as her proposal was, it was the only way to stay in her orbit. To have her, even if it wasn’t the way I dreamed of.

"Great," she said, her smirk widening, mistaking my silence for agreement. "Let’s shake on it. I’ll draft a contract and send it to you. Is that okay?"

Her outstretched hand hovered between us, her confidence unwavering. I stared at it, my heart hammering in my chest. This was insane. Utterly insane. But what choice did I have? It was either this, or watch her push me away completely.

Finally, I nodded, taking her hand in mine. "Okay. Fine. Contract marriage it is."

Her smile was so wide, so genuine, that it made my chest ache. She had no idea that I was already all in, that I didn’t need a year to figure out how I felt about her. Hell, I would’ve married her today if she’d asked. But instead, I was agreeing to a farce. A temporary arrangement that she fully intended to end.

But as our hands lingered in the handshake, an idea began to take root in my mind. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad deal after all. Ella thought she had 365 days to prove to her father that she didn’t need a husband. Fine. Let her think that. Because I had those same 365 days to prove something entirely different: that I was the only man she’d ever want by her side.

It wouldn’t be easy. Ella was stubborn, independent to a fault, and fiercely protective of her autonomy. But I knew her better than she thought I did. And deep down, I was certain that if I played my cards right, she’d realize what I already knew—that we weren’t just compatible; we were right for each other.

She released my hand, her smirk softening into something more genuine. "Good. Then it’s settled."

"Yeah," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. "Settled."

She didn’t notice the way I was looking at her—like she was the center of my universe and she didn’t even realize it. She didn’t notice how my jaw tightened every time she spoke so casually about walking away after a year. She didn’t notice... anything. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"So," she continued, oblivious to the storm raging in my chest. "I’ll write up the contract tonight and send it over tomorrow. We’ll keep it simple—terms, conditions, a mutual agreement to keep this strictly professional."

Professional. The word tasted bitter on my tongue.

"And," she added, her smirk returning, "no feelings involved."

I almost laughed. No feelings? Too late for that, Ella.

"Sure," I said instead, masking my frustration with a tight-lipped smile.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen, her expression tightening. "We should head back in. My dad’s probably wondering what’s taking so long."

I nodded, following her back to the door, my mind already racing with plans. This year was going to be the most important of my life. I would use every single day, every single moment, to show her that we weren’t just a good match on paper. We were meant to be.

As she opened the door and stepped inside, I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Charles Kingsley was still seated on the couch, his sharp eyes flicking between us as if trying to read the outcome of our hallway discussion.

"Well?" he asked, his voice calm but probing.

Ella glanced at me, her expression unreadable, before turning back to her father. "We’ve reached an agreement."

Charles raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Have you now?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "Jason and I are... going to give this a try."

I could see the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in Charles’s eyes, but I wasn’t focused on him anymore. My gaze was on Ella, on the determination etched into her features.

This wasn’t just a business deal to me. It wasn’t about contracts or empires or proving anything to her father. It was about her. It had always been about her.

And whether she realized it or not, I was going to make damn sure that by the end of this year, she’d feel the same way about me.

"Okay, with that done, go get your things. We’re leaving," Mr. Kingsley announced, his voice commanding and final as he turned his sharp gaze to Ella.

She crossed her arms and pouted, her lower lip jutting out like a petulant child. For a second, I was stunned. Ella Kingsley pouting? This was a side of her I’d never seen—the real Ella, stripped of the layers of composure she usually wore like armor. It was disarming and, dare I admit it, adorable.

Mr. Kingsley sighed, his tone softening as he stepped closer to her. "Look, sweetheart, I love what you’ve done with the place. Truly. But this location isn’t safe, and call me stubborn, but there’s no way I’m sleeping soundly knowing some fool could attempt to break in and this flimsy door wouldn’t offer even a token resistance."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, his expression uncharacteristically gentle, almost pleading. But Ella didn’t budge. Her stance was firm, her pout deepening.

Good to know she was this stubborn even with her father. Some things never changed.

Before the standoff could escalate, a reckless thought slipped out of my mouth before I had the sense to stop it. "I can stay over with her."

The words hung in the air like a grenade waiting to go off. Mr. Kingsley’s eyes snapped to mine, his expression a mixture of disbelief and simmering outrage. For a moment, I thought he hadn’t heard me correctly, but the twitch in his jaw confirmed otherwise.

"I may want you to marry her," he said slowly, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet, "but you are not yet her husband."

The warning was clear, but stupidly, I didn’t take it. Instead of shutting my mouth and nodding like any sane man would, I somehow managed to dig my grave even deeper.

"It’s not the first time I’ve slept over wi—"

The rest of the sentence never made it out of my mouth because, in the blink of an eye, Mr. Kingsley was charging toward me like a bull seeing red.

My life flashed before my eyes.

Before I could react—or, more accurately, run—Ella stepped in front of me, her arms spread wide like a human shield. "Wait! Daddy, it’s not what you think!" she exclaimed, her voice pitched with urgency.

Great I’m toast!