“You can stay at my place tonight,” George said. “Think it over.”
Jessica was silent.
George just stood there, waiting.
The rain was coming down harder now. Her hair was soaked, plastered to her head in pathetic strands, dripping cold water down her neck and onto her clothes. She was a complete mess.
George, however, remained perfectly dry under his umbrella. Only the soles of his shoes were damp. It didn’t even occur to him to offer her any shelter.
Then again, she knew no one in this world owed her the courtesy of an umbrella. If she wanted to get out of the rain, she could either make a desperate run for it or find her own cover. Right now, the umbrella she needed most wasn’t for the rain—it was for a roof over her head. A place to stay. A sanctuary.
Looking at George’s refined, yet cold, demeanor, Jessica felt a bitter laugh rise in her throat. Her hesitation was a joke. What did she have left for anyone to take advantage of?
She didn’t need a whole night to think. It wasn’t worth it.
Jessica stepped under the umbrella’s protection. “Alright. Thank you.”
With one hand, George took her suitcase. With the other, he held the umbrella steady, leading her toward a sprawling penthouse apartment behind them.
The moment they stepped inside, the sterile scent of a model home hit her. The place was immaculate, showing no signs of ever being lived in. If it weren’t for the closet by the door, neatly filled with rows of men’s shoes, Jessica would have sworn they’d walked into a showroom.
George slipped on a pair of house shoes and pulled out another pair of men’s slippers from the closet. “Do you mind?” he asked, his voice flat.
Jessica looked down at the dark, wet tracks her own shoes were leaving on the pristine floor, her face flushing with embarrassment. “No, not at all.”
He handed them to her.
She shuffled into the oversized slippers and followed him toward the master bedroom, which was completely empty.
“George,” she asked tentatively, “where do you sleep?”

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