I Fell for the Man Who Ruined Me, Then He Forgot He Ever Loved Me Back novel Chapter 50

Sienna scoffed. "Date him now? When he gets his memory back, I'd have to explain myself to a judge."

Harvey wasn't convinced. "You put aside all your bad blood to help him. Even if he doesn't repay your kindness, he shouldn't bite the hand that fed him, right? Plus, he's the one desperately clinging to you right now. It's not like you're throwing yourself at him."

Sienna turned her head, watching the streetlights blur past the window. "I sure hope so."

"When you strike it rich, don't forget your buddy. Give this loyal servant a chance to serve the young master. If that person is Jorrod Vaughn, I'm perfectly willing to bow down and be a lackey."

"Har-vey."

"Alright, alright, I'm shutting up."

-

The sky was pitch black, dotted with faint starlight.

Silvery moonlight poured through the glass window, spilling like water into the seventh-floor apartment. It cast a sheer veil over the man sleeping on the sofa, illuminating his impossibly sharp, striking features.

In his sleep, his brow was slightly furrowed, his soft lips parted just a fraction. He looked as though he were trapped in a restless struggle.

Jorrod had waited all afternoon, and then agonizingly pushed through the first half of the night. He was completely exhausted.

Eventually, his body gave out, and he fell into a deep, heavy sleep on the sofa.

He had been asleep for roughly an hour.

Through the hazy fog of unconsciousness, a sudden, blinding agony violently pierced his skull. It was explosive and unrelenting, completely hijacking every single shred of his awareness.

Under the crushing weight of the pain, his dark brows clamped together. His right hand clamped into the fabric of the sofa, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. The tension snaked aggressively up his inner arm, straining against his white sleeve.

The car crash... the rundown apartment complex... Quinn...

Sienna Quinn...

Jorrod's eyes snapped open. Beneath his eyelids lay the razor-sharp, predatory gaze of a hawk. Through the dim moonlight, his scrutinizing eyes instantly registered his surroundings.

He shoved himself into a sitting position, digging the heels of his hands into his temples. A dense layer of cold sweat coated his forehead. His chest heaved violently from the brutal awakening, and a freezing, clammy sweat raced down his spine, swallowing him whole.

Wasn't he supposed to be sleeping in his bedroom?

Why the hell was he curled up on a cheap sofa?

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