The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Ella POV:

Okay, so yeah.

Jason kissed me.

In front of everyone.

And now the entire media was buzzing about it like a bunch of nosy bees who had just discovered the world’s biggest scandal.

I could already see the ridiculous headlines coming:

"Kingsley Heiress and Jason King: A Love Story for the Ages!"

"Jason King’s Passionate Display – The Power Couple of the Year!"

"The Kiss That Shook the Business World!"

Ugh.

I could practically hear my father calling me in the morning to give me his oh-so-wise opinion on this "power move" Jason and I had just pulled.

But honestly?

I was too tired to deal with it.

These stupid heels were too damn high, my head still felt like it was being pounded by a hammer, and Jason looked like he was seconds away from collapsing from his own hangover.

Serves him right.

So I turned to him and said, "Let’s go."

Jason blinked at me.

"What?"

"I said, let’s go home," I repeated, barely holding back a groan as I shifted my weight off my aching feet.

For the first time tonight, Jason actually looked relieved.

Like I had just told him that he won a million dollars or that I had decided to suddenly become a sweet, obedient wife.

(Yeah, right.)

"Really? You’re not dragging me to another event after this?" he asked skeptically, eyeing me like I might change my mind.

"Do I look like I have the energy to torture you right now?" I muttered.

Jason grinned.

"Not even a little."

I rolled my eyes.

"Then let’s leave before I change my mind."

And with that, Jason didn’t waste a single second.

For a guy who could barely stand five minutes ago, he sure was moving fast now.

Jake POV:

So Jason saw through me.

Clever. I’ll give him that.

Now, instead of whispers about how close Ella and I were, the media was buzzing about their oh-so-romantic kiss.

A good move. Strategic. A classic "look at how in love we are" kind of stunt.

But here’s the thing:

Jason King can’t protect her forever.

Especially not in my territory.

And guess where Ella would be very soon?

Right in the lion’s den.

The Black Enterprise Headquarters.

My turf. My rules.

That’s where I’d make my move.

Because one little kiss wasn’t going to stop me from getting what I wanted.

And what I wanted was to ruin Ella Kingsley.

As I watched Ella and her husband walk away, arm in arm, I clenched my jaw.

Today was a waste.

A complete fucking waste.

I had planned to plant seeds of doubt in the media, make their marriage look like a joke—like she was entertaining other men despite being Jason King’s wife.

Instead, Jason swooped in like some knight in shining armor, wrapped his arm around her, and what did he do?

Kissed her.

Not just any kiss, but one of those grand, possessive, ’she’s mine’ kind of kisses.

The kind that wipes out every rumor and turns it into a fairy tale.

Disgusting.

I took a sip of my drink, barely tasting it as I watched them disappear into the crowd.

But Jason thinks he won today.

He thinks he protected her.

That’s cute.

Because the game isn’t over. Not even close.

He can play the perfect husband in public all he wants.

But he can’t protect her when she’s alone.

And when she steps into my domain at Black Enterprise HQ?

That’s when I’ll strike.

As I watched Ella and her husband walk away, arm in arm, I clenched my jaw.

Today was a waste.

A complete fucking waste.

I had planned to plant seeds of doubt in the media, make their marriage look like a joke—like she was entertaining other men despite being Jason King’s wife.

Instead, Jason swooped in like some knight in shining armor, wrapped his arm around her, and what did he do?

Kissed her.

Not just any kiss, but one of those grand, possessive, ’she’s mine’ kind of kisses.

The kind that wipes out every rumor and turns it into a fairy tale.

Disgusting.

I took a sip of my drink, barely tasting it as I watched them disappear into the crowd.

But Jason thinks he won today.

He thinks he protected her.

That’s cute.

Because the game isn’t over. Not even close.

He can play the perfect husband in public all he wants.

But he can’t protect her when she’s alone.

And when she steps into my domain at Black Enterprise HQ?

That’s when I’ll strike.

Jason POV:

Finally, we’re home.

Sweet, sweet home.

And all I need right now is painkillers, sleep, and—most importantly—to get away from my wife before she remembers that I kissed her.

With her full consent.

(Okay, maybe not exactly consent-consent—more like forced participation, but that’s just details.)

She was too shocked to fight back in front of the cameras, and honestly, I enjoyed every second of it. The look on Jake’s smug face disappearing? Priceless.

But now?

Now, I have to escape before she remembers.

I open the car door and step out carefully, my head still throbbing from the hangover that even Ella’s disgusting concoction failed to cure. If anything, I think that thing made it worse.

I glance over at Ella. She’s quiet.

Too quiet.

She gets out of the car and doesn’t say a word.

She’s thinking.

Calculating.

Shit. She’s remembering.

Abort. Abort mission.

I move quickly, heading straight for the stairs.

"Jason," she calls.

I freeze.

Damn it.

I fake a stretch. "Ahhh, long day. I think I’ll—"

"You kissed me."

Yep. She remembers.

I turn around slowly, schooling my face into a casual, innocent expression. "Did I?"

Her eyes narrow.

"You know you did."

"I think you’re mistaken," I say, trying to look confused. "You kissed me. I was just standing there."

Her jaw drops. "What?!"

"Yep. That’s how I remember it."

She crosses her arms. "Are you actually trying to gaslight me right now?"

I place a hand on my heart, looking deeply offended. "Gaslight? Me? Darling wife, I would never."

"You—" she starts, but then she pauses, her expression shifting.

Oh no.

That’s not the look of a woman who is about to yell.

That’s the look of a woman who is about to do something worse.

I take a step back. "Ella...?"

She smirks.

And then she pulls out her phone.

"You know," she says, scrolling through her screen, "it would be such a shame if I accidentally uploaded that video of you drunk-calling me and crying about how much you love your wife."

My soul leaves my body.

"You wouldn’t."

She tilts her head, innocently. "Oh, I don’t know... maybe if you grovel a little, I might reconsider."

I narrow my eyes. "You’re bluffing."

She turns the phone around.

And there it is.

Drunk me, face flushed, eyes glassy, voice thick with emotion:

"They’re taking me away from you, Ella! They don’t want me to see you! I love you, okay? I love my wife! She’s so pretty! My wife is so—"

I lunge for the phone.

She dodges.

"I swear, Ella, if you post that—"

"Then you’d better start groveling, husband."

I glare at her, debating my next move. If I run, she might actually post it. If I stay, I might die of embarrassment.

"Fine," I grumble. "What do you want?"

She taps her chin in thought.