Chapter 89

Grace struggled to control her thoughts. She had called him brother, relegated him to that role. Why would she think he'd want to kiss her? Why would someone so handsome and valiant want her?

"Do you want me to move?" he asked, his lips a hair's breadth from hers.

Was he asking her to move closer or away? What if this wasn't what he wanted? Would that ruin everything between them?

"Hmm," he murmured, the vibration seemingly crossing the space between them. She felt it, her whole body humming in response. "You don't know what you want." He shrugged and stepped back.

Sensing she'd offended him, she tried to explain. "It, uh, feels weird standing so close," Grace said. It was true. After the last few years, she hadn't been intimate with anyone. She'd kept everyone at a distance. His proximity unnerved her.

"All right then," Jason said easily, removing his hand. He took a step back and tidied the things on the table.

She sighed in relief and stroked her warm cheeks.

"By the way, Sister, just now, when we were standing so close, did you want to kiss me?" he asked unexpectedly, stunning her.

Grace blinked, blushing. Had he read her mind? Had he sensed her reaction?

"Uh," she stammered.

"Is that a hard question to answer?" he asked, his brow slightly arched.

"I… I, of course…"

"If it were you, I would allow it," he replied, cutting her off. "I don't like other women kissing me, but if it were you, it would be okay."

Sunlight streamed through the narrow glass window, illuminating him. This man was everything she'd ever wanted or needed. And she longed for him. Was he admitting he wanted her too? At least for a kiss?

Her hand flew to her mouth. Her lips felt swollen, overly sensitive, as if the thought of his mouth on hers had physically prepared her body.

She knew she should tell him no, that they were like brother and sister, that what they had was good. She shouldn't risk their relationship by talking about kisses. But the words caught in her throat, and as she stared at him, she found herself nodding.

That afternoon, Grace, scrolling through her phone, found news about Zoe. Zoe had been hospitalized late last night after allegedly offending someone who'd ordered her leg to be broken. Even after healing, there was no guarantee of no residual effects. Therefore, Zoe would miss the Stevens-Atkinson engagement dinner in a few days.

The paparazzi hadn't identified Zoe's offender. The Stevens family's statement was vague, refusing comment, and they hadn't reported the incident to the police—leading to speculation that they accepted the event. The reporter further suggested the offender was more influential than the Stevens family, which was significant, considering their outspoken nature.

Grace skimmed the articles across multiple sites. Then, unconsciously, she glanced at Jason. When she was injured, he'd said Zoe should pay the price.

But she couldn't believe Zoe would actually face consequences. And yet, she had. Her right leg was broken, and photos from her ambulance ride, with her leg in a splint, had leaked. Coincidence? Or…

"Sister, why are you looking at me like that?" Jason asked, lifting his gaze.

She shook her head.

"Zoe is injured and hospitalized." Grace relayed the news.

"Isn't that good?" he retorted.

"I just feel that everything you say is accurate," she said. "Like when you said the projection ads of Sean proposing to Lily would be taken down—they were. This time you said Zoe would pay for tripping me, and she had an accident. Well, I don't know that I'd call it an accident, since someone broke her leg."

She thought, "I feel like whatever you say comes true."

Jason's face was impassive for several seconds, then his lips curved into a crooked smile—a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Sometimes, I don't know whether to laugh or cry with you," he mumbled.

"Huh?"

He smiled fully. "Then, if whatever I say comes true, do you have a wish?"

"Me?" She shook her head. "I don't have dreams I wish to come true." Because I clearly understand that those dreams are beyond my grasp, she thought.

"Do you not want to find a benefactor?" he asked. "If you did, no one would bully you, and everything you wished for could be easily attained."

She chuckled lightly. Benefactor? Such an antiquated term. The most a girl could hope for was a sugar daddy, and Grace had no desire to be anyone's mistress.

"No, I don't think there will be any benefactors in my future," she said lightly.

"What if there could be? What would you need?"

She shrugged. "Enough to eat, a place to sleep, clothes to wear—that would be great. But, brother," she said gently, "these 'benefactors' want young, pretty things to keep under lock and key. And have you forgotten I'm a street cleaner? What man would ever take a liking to me?"

"What if a man really did take a liking to you?" he asked.