Jenna Roland was fuming, in no mood to deal with Ethan Roscente.

Grandma Blanche's call had put her in an impossible position.

Refusing the old lady's request would only raise suspicions.

She took a deep breath and reluctantly agreed, "Understood, Grandma. I'll call you back tomorrow."

After hanging up, she marched over to Ethan with a frosty expression. "Your grandmother wants you to arrange a job for your uncle's son."

Without another word, she turned on her heel, determined to avoid any mention of the towel incident.

Ethan frowned. "Did you wash the towel?"

"Still wet." Jenna kept her back to him, willing him to leave.

Instead, he flicked on the light and dragged a chair beside her floor bedding.

"Do you know what time it is?" Jenna sat up angrily.

Ethan met her gaze directly. "What exactly happened at Studio 54 that night?"

"Stop pretending to have amnesia." Jenna scoffed. "You know damn well what you did."

"I was too drunk to remember."

"Being drunk doesn't excuse anything." Her voice turned sharp.

Ethan remained calm. "I don't want misunderstandings between us."

Jenna arched an eyebrow. "So you're not leaving until I talk?"

"Correct." His tone brooked no argument.

"Ethan," Jenna sneered, "we both know why we got married. Stop acting like you care."

His fists clenched briefly before relaxing.

"You promised not to mention divorce," he said darkly.

Jenna faltered. "I did say that."

"Then we're still husband and wife." Ethan softened his tone. "We should communicate."

She bit her lower lip before finally asking, "Who is Yvonne Sherwood?"