Chapter 187

Grace hurriedly climbed down from the bed. "I'll go wash up," she mumbled before rushing into the bathroom.

Jason's gaze darkened as he watched Grace run away.

Inside the bathroom, Grace stared at her blushing face and sighed. She couldn't believe what Jason had told her. "I pressed him down and kissed him?" she thought. "How could that happen?"

However, she hesitated. Was it truly impossible? Even she didn't know what her drunk self might do. "If Jason's telling the truth, then I" The thought made her want to disappear.

She quickly washed up and left the bathroom to find Jason still in her house. He sat on a chair, gently sipping water, impeccably dressed in a well-tailored suit. His broad shoulders, slim waist, and elegantly crossed legs were striking. His handsome face, with its strong features and delicate details, was captivating. Even with his eyes lowered, his long lashes were striking; one could only imagine their breathtaking effect when fully open.

He was a captivating sight, like a beautifully painted portrait, even while simply sitting and drinking from an ordinary cup. His aristocratic aura remained unaffected.

"Why haven't I noticed this before?" Grace chided herself. While Jason had lived with her, she should have recognized the subtle elegance in his every movement—his eating habits, posture, and mannerisms—all betraying a background far removed from that of a vagabond.

At that moment, Jason raised his eyelids. His exquisitely beautiful eyes met Grace's, and she felt as if she might sink into their depths.

"I I need to get to work," she stammered, breaking free from her trance. It was already past nine; she was hours late and faced a pay cut and reprimand.

"There's no need to rush. I've applied for leave on your behalf," he said.

She was stunned. Then she heard him ask, "By the way, where are my clothes and belongings? Did you throw them out?"

She pressed her lips together, silent.

"And the gloves I made for me—did you throw those out too?" he asked, staring at her intently.

She hesitated before replying, "I kept them." The word "throw" felt wasteful to her.

"Why didn't you throw them out?"

"They're worth something I could sell them secondhand"

Before she finished, his face darkened. "You're remarkably skilled at infuriating people…"

Jason glared at Grace for a moment before saying, "Since you haven't thrown them out, finish the gloves and give them to me."

She was taken aback. He no longer needed to impress her. Those gloves were knitted from an old sweater. Why did he want them? Was he actually going to wear them?