Chapter 4

Andrew seemed startled by my appearance. It was understandable, given how I'd pressured him to drink the night before when he clearly wasn't keen. His reluctance was evident, but I wasn't going to give up easily.

"Mind if I crash here?" I inquired, feigning vulnerability with a soft voice and wide-eyed look. "I'm out of cash for a room, and you know how Jasper can be..."

I was certain Andrew grasped my meaning.

Whenever I fled, Jasper would immediately block my access to funds, leaving me without resources.

The last time this occurred, I nearly ended up homeless. That is, until Andrew came to my aid, lending me $100 out of compassion. However, his assistance came at a price—he informed on me. That same evening, Jasper hauled me back home, enraged and intent on teaching me a lesson for my escape.

This instance, I was resolved to avoid repeating that mistake. To prevent Andrew from informing Jasper, I not only took over his small bed but also confiscated his phone, eliminating any means of contacting Jasper.

Andrew conceded with a sigh, wrapping himself in a blanket and settling on the sofa. His legs hung over the edge, clearly too long for the couch.

He even rotated the sofa to face away, creating an improvised partition between us with its high back.

Once I was confident he wouldn't disturb me, I retrieved my own phone. Quietly, I disabled the camera sound and adjusted the angle to capture the desired scene.

The image showed me relaxing on the bed, my hair slightly disheveled and my expression playful. I exuded an air of someone reveling in affection. To complete the picture, a plaid shirt—Andrew's favorite—hung noticeably on a nearby rack alongside a pair of men's printed boxers.

I took several photos, ensuring I had the perfect shots. Then, with a cunning smile, I uploaded them to my social media with one crucial modification: the post was set to be visible only to Jasper.

The caption read: [Thanks for the crash pad, pal. You're a lifesaver.]

The reaction was swift. Jasper liked the post almost instantly. Shortly after, I received a message from him: [I'm outside. Come down now.]

Well, that was quick. Was he really losing his composure so rapidly? I smirked to myself, donning Andrew's puffer jacket before heading downstairs.

The winter chill was harsh, and Jasper stood rigidly by his car, his mouth set in a grim line. He hadn't even bothered to wear a coat.

The night air was frigid, but Jasper remained by his vehicle, wearing only a thin shirt. His expression was stern, his eyes as cold as the wind.

"Are you finished with your little games?" he said, his tone sharp and biting.

Before I could reply, he grabbed my wrist with painful force. "Because I am. Get in the car. You're coming home with me."

I started to protest, but Andrew's voice interrupted from behind me.

"Jasper, wait. Listen, Charlotte just—"

He didn't get to finish. Jasper's fist struck his jaw in a swift motion.

"Andrew, you backstabbing bastard!" Jasper's voice was a snarl, filled with rage. "What happened to loyalty? You think you can just make a move on my woman?"

Andrew looked completely baffled, clutching his jaw as he tried to comprehend the situation. But Jasper wasn't finished. He stepped closer, his eyes dark with fury. "You think I don't see it? You've been lusting after her for ages and now you're trying to take advantage. You scumbag!" With that, Jasper landed another punch, this one more forceful than the first. Andrew stumbled against the wall, blood trickling from his mouth as he struggled to stay upright.

Fear coursed through me.

"Jasper, stop! It's not what you think!" I cried out, stepping forward. My voice quavered, my hands shaking.

I hadn't intended for any of this to happen. My only goal was to make Jasper jealous, to give him a taste of the frustration and hurt he'd inflicted on me. But the situation had escalated beyond my control, and I was at a loss for how to rein it in.

Jasper had no interest in hearing my explanation. Without another word, he dragged me to his car and shoved me into the passenger seat with alarming strength before slamming the door and taking his place behind the wheel.

Once we arrived at the house, things intensified further.

Jasper was like a man possessed, tearing at my clothes as if he had lost all restraint.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice harsh with anger and lust, "To drive me crazy? Or was I not satisfying you enough that you had to run off and find someone else?"

His lips crashed against mine, his kiss demanding and all-consuming. My breath caught as he silenced every sound I made, leaving me defenseless against the storm of emotions he unleashed.

Hours later, I lay trembling beneath him, my voice hoarse as I pleaded for mercy. "Jasper... please... I can't take anymore. It hurts."

He kissed the flushed shell of my ear, his tone unapologetic yet gentle. "Not tonight, sweetheart. You started this and you're going to finish it."

Finally, in the small hours of the morning, it was over. He pressed my hands to his chest, his skin scorching beneath my palms. His voice softened as he whispered, "I fired her. The secretary, she's gone. I swear to you, I'll never make you cry again. If I do, you can leave me. For good."

His eyes held mine, glistening with a sincerity that threatened to overwhelm me. "Charlotte, I'm begging you—don't ever put me through this again."

"I promise I won't mess up anymore. Just promise me one thing," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Promise me you'll never leave me."