Chapter 4

At that moment, Denise yanked the bed sheet off herself and started walking straight toward Jason, completely unfazed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—you’re not actually thinking about round two, are you? Damn, didn’t peg you as the insatiable type..." Jason muttered to himself. But just as he was mumbling, Denise reached down near his feet and casually picked up his shirt, slipping it on. His shirt was huge on her, pretty much covered her down to her thighs. Watching her move, Jason instantly felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him. Wow, talk about overthinking. "I'm not gonna sue you," Denise said coolly, then walked over to the drawer, pulled out some paper and a pen, and started scribbling quickly. "What’s your name?" she asked, suddenly turning to look at him. Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He was curious now—what kind of play was she trying to pull? "Jason." After jotting it down, she tossed the paper at his face. "There. I admit it—I slept with you. I should be compensating you, but I’m broke. That’s your... payment, okay?" And with that, she strolled over to the TV, yanked out the card, slammed the door behind her, and left. "Hey! That’s my shirt—" Jason called after her, but she was already gone. This woman seriously had guts. She even had the nerve to leave him “payment.” He picked up the paper to take a look. Turns out, it was an IOU. Denise: Confirmed sleeping with Jason on [date], owes him 200 bucks. There was also her number and her signature. Jason stared at it, his face going stiff. No way. Did she seriously treat him like a bootleg gigolo? That was brutal. But the kicker? Only 200 bucks?! That just rubbed salt in the wound. That shameless woman. How could she humiliate him like this? He wasn’t just anyone—he was the CEO of the Harrington Group. 200 bucks? Seriously? Once the rage died down, something else bubbled up—Jason actually found the whole thing kind of hilarious. No woman had ever dared to pull that move on him before. And instead of actual money, she handed him an IOU? If word got out, people would laugh their heads off. He scanned around for a shirt but only found a pair of pants. Took him a second to remember—yeah, she literally walked off in his shirt. Denise... Not only did she show zero gratitude, she had the audacity to leave him with some fake payment and take his clothes too. Jason instantly whipped out his phone and called Ben Torres. "Bring me some clothes. Now." After hanging up, he tossed the phone on the bed and went to the drawer, pulled out a camera, popped it open, and retrieved another memory card from inside. A smirk crept up on his face. "Denise, you think I didn’t plan ahead? You’ve got another thing coming." He’d made a backup already—years of business had taught him never to leave things to chance. Meanwhile, Denise hadn’t gone far from the hotel. She chucked the card into a trash bin and borrowed someone’s phone outside to call Lily Bennett. “Hey, Lily, I need you to bring me some clothes—like, ASAP. It’s an emergency. I’m near the east side mall by our school, it should only take like ten minutes by taxi.” “Girl, are you serious right now? It’s Cynthia's class today, and now you’re skipping and dragging me along? You trying to get us both failed?” Lily complained on the other end.