The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason’s POV:

He stopped, but barely. His glare shifted to her, and for a moment, I thought she might combust under the sheer intensity of his fury.

"I was sick!" Ella blurted out, her words tumbling over each other in a rush. "I was sick, and Jason was just helping out. That’s all. Nothing happened."

I nodded quickly, eager to back her up. "Exactly. She had cramps. I stayed to make sure she was okay. That’s it."

Mr. Kingsley narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "You expect me to believe that the two of you were alone, overnight, and nothing happened?"

"Yes," Ella and I said in unison, our voices overlapping.

Ella turned to me, her expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Jason, seriously? That was not the time to say that," she hissed under her breath.

I shrugged helplessly. "I panicked!"

Her father’s sharp voice cut through our whispered exchange. "I don’t care what kind of excuse you two come up with. The fact remains that this place isn’t safe, and you’re leaving. Tonight."

Ella groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Daddy, you can’t just—"

"I can," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned to me, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. "And as for you, Jason, if you’re so eager to stay with her, I suggest you make this engagement official sooner rather than later. Until then, keep your distance."

Ella’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration, and I knew better than to say another word.

"Fine," she muttered, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I’ll pack some things."

Mr. Kingsley nodded, satisfied, and stepped back, giving her space to move. As she disappeared into her bedroom, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

"You’re not as clever as you think, son," Mr. Kingsley said quietly, his voice low but carrying the weight of a warning.

I met his gaze, doing my best to hold my ground despite the knot forming in my stomach. "I’d never do anything to hurt her, sir," I said, my voice firm.

His eyes narrowed, assessing me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he nodded once, though his expression didn’t soften. "Good. Because if you do, I’ll make sure you regret it."

Message received. Loud and clear.

Ella reemerged moments later, a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Happy now?" she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Ecstatic," her father replied dryly, gesturing toward the door. "Let’s go."

As the three of us stepped into the hallway, I couldn’t help but glance at Ella. She caught my eye and rolled hers dramatically, her lips twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile.

One year, I reminded myself. One year to win her over. No pressure.

Ella’s POV

Stupid Jason.

How could he even say that he’d spent the night with me—in front of my father, no less? Of all the things to blurt out, he had to pick the one that would make my father see red. I swear, the man’s mouth was going to get him killed one day.

I could still see my father’s face, the vein in his temple pulsing as he charged at Jason like a bull on a rampage. And what did Jason do? Just stood there, clueless as ever, until I had to throw myself between them to keep my father from strangling him.

If it weren’t for Jason’s big mouth, I wouldn’t have obliged to follow my father back to his pristine estate. I would have remained stubborn, holding my ground in my tiny apartment until my dad finally stormed off, leaving me in peace. But no. Jason’s inability to keep his mouth shut had forced me to make a choice: either watch him get verbally—and possibly physically—skewered by my father or appease my dad by playing the dutiful daughter and going along with his plans.

So, here I was, shoving clothes into a duffel bag while my father loomed in the doorway like a hawk, ready to swoop in and drag me out if I so much as hesitated.

I glanced at Jason, who was leaning awkwardly against the wall, looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor. Good. He should feel awkward after the stunt he just pulled.

"Happy now?" I snapped at my father, zipping up my bag with unnecessary force as I shot him a glare.

"Ecstatic," he replied, his tone dry but smug.

I rolled my eyes, slinging the bag over my shoulder as I brushed past him. My father followed closely behind, leaving Jason to trail after us like a lost puppy.

The three of us stepped into the hallway, and I couldn’t resist throwing a pointed look at Jason. He caught my eye, his expression sheepish, and opened his mouth as if to say something.

"Don’t," I warned, cutting him off before he could dig himself any deeper into this mess.

Jason raised his hands in surrender, his lips pressing into a thin line.

As we headed toward the elevator, I couldn’t help but fume silently. If Jason hadn’t said what he did, I could have held my ground. My dad would have huffed and puffed but eventually left. But no. Instead, I was stuck playing the good daughter, moving back into my father’s overbearing world of endless security and suffocating expectations.

All because Jason couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

But then, as I stole a glance at him—his head bowed slightly, his hands shoved into his pockets—I felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to cause trouble. If anything, he’d been trying to help, to protect me in his own, slightly clueless way.

Still.

"Jason," I said softly, surprising even myself.

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I forgot why I was angry.

"Thanks for... sticking up for me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jason’s lips twitched into a small, hesitant smile. "Anytime," he said.

As much as Jason frustrated me, he was also... Jason. Loyal to a fault, protective in a way that made me feel both exasperated and strangely safe. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t angry with him.

As the elevator doors closed, I sighed inwardly.

Fine. I’d go along with my dad’s plans for now. But I wasn’t giving up on my independence—not by a long shot. And as for Jason? Well, he’d better keep that big mouth of his in check if he wanted to survive the rest of this crazy arrangement.

Because, contract or not, one thing was clear: Jason had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

......

I was so going to divorce him after this contract was over.

Sure, Jason had agreed to the ridiculous idea of a one-year marriage contract, but only because he didn’t seem to realize just how serious I was about ending it after that. For all his charm and loyalty, he had no clue what he was up against.

This wasn’t some romantic fantasy where we’d magically fall in love by the end of the year and live happily ever after. No. This was a means to an end—a calculated move to prove to my father that I didn’t need a husband to be capable. Jason was a placeholder, nothing more.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

As I sat in the passenger seat of my father’s sleek black car, Jason’s presence felt heavier than ever beside me. My father was in the driver’s seat, his fingers drumming against the wheel as he navigated us out of the city. The tension was palpable, a strange mixture of smugness from my dad, awkward silence from Jason, and quiet seething from me.

Jason, to his credit, was trying to act normal. He kept glancing at me as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out where to start. Probably for the best. If he tried to apologize or explain himself, I’d snap.

Divorce. One year. That was the plan.

And yet, as much as I hated to admit it, there was a small, annoying voice in the back of my mind whispering doubts. Would it really be so bad to give Jason a chance? He was kind, loyal, and had somehow managed to earn my father’s respect—no small feat, considering how impossible that usually was.

No. I shut the thought down immediately. This wasn’t about Jason or his feelings. This was about me and my freedom.

"Ella."

Jason’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft but insistent. I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

He hesitated, his blue eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge my mood. "I just... wanted to say I’m sorry. For earlier. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. He looked so genuinely apologetic that I felt my resolve falter for a moment.

"It’s fine," I said shortly, turning my gaze back to the window.

Jason didn’t push further, but I could feel his eyes on me, silently studying me in that way he always did when he thought I was hiding something.

And maybe I was.

Because as much as I told myself I was going to divorce him after this year, there was a tiny, stubborn part of me that couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility that Jason might surprise me.

But I wasn’t going to let that part win. Not now. Not ever.

This was a temporary arrangement. One year. That was all. After that, Jason could go back to his life, and I could finally take control of mine.

That was the plan. And I was sticking to it.

Right?