Jensen looked up as she approached, the icy demeanor vanishing in an instant.
He raised an eyebrow, his charming eyes hiding a possessive gleam as he looked her over. "Where have you been?"
Rebekah had been planning to thank him anyway, so she invited him in. "Jensen, thank you for letting me stay here these past few days. I've decided to move back to the Forrester estate tomorrow, so I won't be needing the apartment anymore."
As the words left her mouth, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
"Oh? The estate?" Jensen repeated slowly.
For a fleeting moment, Rebekah could have sworn she felt a wave of raw fury emanating from him. She frowned. But when she looked at him again, his expression was calm, almost placid. The look in his eyes, however, was deep and unreadable.
"There's nothing to thank me for," he said coolly. "My friend was trying to rent this place out anyway. You did me a favor."
Rebekah murmured her assent, but before she could say more, he cut her off. "I'll keep the apartment for you. If you ever want to leave the Forresters again, you can come straight here."
He seemed to be thinking of everything. Rebekah was touched. "But it's your friend's place. You shouldn't make decisions like that…"
"It wasn't renting anyway. If you take it off his hands, he'll be the one thanking you." Jensen leaned back against the sofa, crossing his legs casually. He looked up at her. "Do you need help packing?"
Rebekah sat down opposite him, feeling a strange prickle on her skin, as if she were being watched by a predator. "No, that's okay. I can manage."
They were her design sketches from her university days, the things she had once treasured most. She looked down, a wave of sadness washing over her. She would probably never be able to draw again.
"Jewelry designs, if I'm not mistaken," Jensen said, his voice low and steady. He watched her closely. "I have a friend in the design industry. I could introduce you, if you like."
Rebekah looked at him and gave a bitter smile. Her hand still trembled sometimes. She couldn't even hold a pencil steady. The dream of becoming a designer felt impossibly far away.
"We can talk about it later. My hand still shakes. I don't even know if I'll ever be able to hold a drawing pen again."
Seeing the despair in her eyes, Jensen's own gaze hardened with a cold, ruthless determination. He looked down, masking his fury. He would cure her, no matter what it took.

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