Sleep refused to come.
Jace lay on his king-sized bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the dim ceiling as the shadows crawled slowly across it. He had closed his eyes several times, forced his breathing to slow, even tried distracting himself by going over tomorrow's schedule—but nothing worked.
Every time he blinked, he saw her.
Selena.
Laughing softly with Andrew. Smiling up at him with those gentle eyes. The way her face had flushed when he snapped at her. The way she shrunk slightly when he pulled her away. The confusion in her gaze when he said those reckless words—
"It was distracting."
Jace exhaled sharply and sat up, running a hand through his hair.
"Ridiculous," he muttered to the room. "Absolutely ridiculous."
The great Jace Ariston—cold, calculated, immovable—was losing sleep because of a woman. And not just any woman… his temporary wife, the one he swore he would never get involved with emotionally. The one this arrangement was never supposed to affect.
And yet…
He clenched his jaw. The image of Selena's small smile while talking to Andrew flashed again, and irritation flared in his chest.
What annoyed him more?
Was it that Andrew looked too comfortable with her?
Or that she looked… happy?
He scoffed loudly. "She can talk to whoever she wants. It's none of my business."
But the words tasted bitter, even to his own ears.
He shifted, lowering his feet to the marble floor. The coolness grounded him momentarily, but the heat in his chest didn't fade.
He remembered how Andrew had leaned just a little too close. How Selena's eyes had softened when she recognized him. How her voice, which had always been quiet around Jace, sounded warmer—lighter—when she spoke to the other man.
Jace pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance swirling in his veins.
Why does it bother me?
Why do I care?
This arrangement is temporary. Three months. That's all.
He leaned back again, letting his head fall against the headboard as the war inside him intensified.
He tried convincing himself:
He wasn't jealous.
He wasn't affected.
He wasn't thinking about the warmth of her hand when he pulled her away.
He wasn't remembering the way her breath hitched when their eyes met for that brief, charged moment.
And he definitely wasn't replaying the entire scene in his mind like some kind of obsessed fool.
He threw the duvet aside and stood, pacing the room restlessly.
"This is absurd," he muttered. "She's… she's nothing. Just a responsibility. Just a temporary obligation. She's here because—because of her mother. That's it."
His voice echoed back at him, hollow and unconvincing.
He paused by the window, staring down at the shimmering Lagos skyline below. The city was alive—cars moving, lights flickering, nightlife humming. Yet all he could think of was the quietness in the hallway when Selena walked to her room earlier, the way her shoulders drooped slightly, the sadness she tried to hide.
"Why did she look like that?" he whispered unconsciously.
He didn't like it.
He didn't want her sad.
He didn't want her looking at Andrew with that soft expression again, either.
His jaw tightened.
Maybe she was affected by his behavior.
Maybe she was upset because of what he said.
Maybe—
"No." He shook his head hard. "I'm not thinking about this. I'm not—"
The denial died midway as a thought struck him with unexpected force:
What if she thinks Andrew is a better man?
What if she prefers talking to him?
An uncomfortable heaviness settled in his chest.
In that moment, standing alone in his quiet room with the night pressing in around him, Jace realized something dangerous:
He wasn't just restless.
He wasn't just irritated.
He wasn't just bothered.
He was jealous.
And he hated that word more than anything.
He shut his eyes, leaning against the cold glass of the balcony door.
"This… cannot continue," he whispered, trying to steady himself.
But deep inside, beneath all the denial and stubborn logic, a truth throbbed quietly:
Selena Ariston was getting under his skin.
And Jace Ariston—Lagos' coldest, most powerful bachelor—didn't know how to stop it.