Maybe he must be a big fan of his. She thought to herself.
Just as she was about to let out a sigh of relieve. The man walked out of the bathroom, hair damp from the shower.
No. No, no, no...
She sat up, sheet pulled to her chest, heart thundering.
It's actually him, one of they biggest actor in the country, a heartthrob. Box office king. Rumored to be dating three models.
They Jason Leonard... First and only son of the Leonard's conglomerate. They number one Conglomerate family in the country.
And last night… he had touched her. Every part of her.
He paused, a towel slung around his waist, holding her gaze. "by that look, you do recognize me now."
Everything came crashing back. The loneliness, the alcohol, her impulsive decision.
She felt exposed, not just physically, but emotionally. As if her heartbreak had led her straight into the arms of the last man she should've ever touched.
And yet… she wasn't sure if she regretted it.
Not yet.
But she knew one thing. There was nothing more to it than a one night stand, and It was time to leave.
Jason watched her with something unreadable in his eyes.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She wrapped the sheet tighter around her body, grabbed her clothes and dashed to the bathroom.
She came back out fully dressed.
Still shirtless, he looked up from where he stood.
"You're leaving already?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but with uncertainty.
She paused at the door, hand on the knob. She turned to look at him.
"Let's not pretend there's more to this than what it is, said Amari, calm and unruffled. "I had my fun. It ends here."
And just like that, she was gone.
Jason stared after her, a frown pulling at his brows. He was used to women clinging, leaving traces of themselves in his sheets, waiting for him to call, to chase. But she left like the night meant nothing, like he meant nothing. It came more as a shock to him.
Two days later.
She got invited to Producer Scott's birthday party.
She almost didn't want to attend, but she better show up if she wants more work.
She arrived late.
She paused at the door, her heels clicked softly on the floor, calculating her every step like she was walking through a minefield.
The maroon silk dress clung to her like second skin, her pale complexion glowing against it like a spotlight in the dark.
Her eyes scanned the venue, heart pounding like she was being hunted. She didn't want to see him, but a part of her did.
And then it happened.
Across the room, Jason turned just as her gaze landed on him. Their eyes locked.
His sharp and curious, hers guarded and unreadable.
She looked away instantly.
She walked past him like he was invisible.
And Jason… stood still.
For someone who is used to women drooling all over him, he should've brushed it off. But it wasn't that simple.
They had sex days ago. Now she was acting like he didn't exist.
It bothered him.
The more she distanced herself, the more intrigued he became. The rejection felt personal. And somehow, it made her even more unforgettable.
Later that night, he asked around discreetly.
"Who's the girl in the maroon dress?"
Someone answered, Amari Lane. New singer. Talented but difficult. Keeps to herself.
And just like that, something shifted inside him.
Over the next two weeks Amari's gigs multiplied. Venues she could never dream of playing suddenly called her in. Fashion brands sent her outfits. A studio booked her for a soundtrack.
She didn't know how. But someone was pulling strings.
Then came the flowers.
Every week. Always anonymous. With a note that says "Sing. I'm listening."
At first, she thought it was a fan.
Then her envious colleague, Tracey Mill, cornered her in the dressing room.
"Do you feel special"! Because you slept your way to the top! huh?" she said with a bitter smirk. . I heard Jason is behind all your gigs. The flowers too." she giggled and left.
Amari froze. Her throat went dry. She knew Tracey enjoyed lying, but this felt too specific.
Later that night, she got Jason's contact from the flower cards and dropped him a message.
Hey, where are you? We need to talk.
Surprised and happy Jason shared his location.
She found him on the rooftop of a luxury hotel, sipping something expensive, city lights behind him like a halo of fire.
"Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "Are you trying to buy me?"
He turned, surprised. His expression softened a little.
This people can't really keep a secret!. "I'm not doing anything you didn't earn," he replied. "You deserve to be seen."
"Why do you hate me? He asked.
I'm not getting on your list of concubines. I'm not one of those women you toy with. So leave me alone."
Jason's expression changed. Something in him hardened, but not with anger. With disappointment.
"Oh… that's why," he said quietly, voice heavy with realization.
So you are one of them. He said. Judging me based on whispers and headlines. Never checking the facts."
"I thought you were different,"
She blinked. "What?"
Borrowing your sense of judgment, that means the story of you using your beauty and body to get to fame is true then.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
He turned to leave.
Jason... She called out.
He stopped, but didn't look back and resumed his steps.
Amari couldn't sleep. Not for days.
His words echoed in her mind long after he'd walked away.
It felt like a punch to the chest. She hadn't seen it coming. The look on his face, the disappointment, the heartbreak haunted her more than she thought it would.
The guilt clawed at her every night.