My Sister Married My Ex, So I Became a Billionaire's Mistress novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Six Months of Sundays

"My grandfather doesn't write about me," Willa said. "He doesn't write to me. He doesn't speak to me unless he has to."

Jasper turned his head on the pillow and looked at her for a long time.

"Then why does he keep saying your name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Good," he said. "Then you can tell me that again in the morning."

He sat up and reached for his shirt.

"You're not staying?" she said, and was horrified at how it sounded.

"The rule is, you come when I call. You go when I'm done."

"Of course."

She pulled the sheet up to her chin and found her dress at the foot of the bed.

He watched her dress. He did not help, and he did not look away.

"Your grandfather held me at my christening," he said, buttoning his cuffs. "He's been telling my lawyers he'd like to see us at one table. He hasn't said why."

"Then ask him."

"I'm asking you."

"I just told you I don't know."

His mouth thinned. He nodded once.

"Go home, Willa."

It was the second time he had said her name, and he did not say it kindly.

She took the elevator down alone.

The lobby was empty except for the night clerk. Outside the revolving doors the air was black and bitter, and her breath showed in front of her face.

A car was idling at the curb.

She knew the car. It was gray, and it had a child seat in the back.

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