“Andy?” he said, one eyebrow arching as if my presence was a puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together.
I brushed off Matt with a flicker of my eyes and faced James. Inhaling sharply, I summoned all my wit and gall. “Mr. Maxwell, fancy discussing a certain damsel in distress?”
James observed me with that stoic stillness of his, but there was no mistaking the curiosity that sparked behind those cool eyes. He rose from his seat with all the leisure of a man who had never rushed for anything or anyone.
“Mia,” he prompted, folding his arms over his chest as if to shield himself from whatever storm I might unleash.
“She mentioned a little arrangement she’s made with you,” I said, voice steady but hands betraying me with their tremble.
“And?” His voice was flat—a poker face in verbal form.
“Consider this my formal request for an annulment of that particular agreement,” I declared with more bravado than sense.
His lips twitched—was that amusement? “Why would I entertain such a notion?”
I steeled myself for the sacrificial offer. “Well, how about swapping her out for someone less… sisterly? Someone like me?”
Matt’s patience snapped like cheap china. “What deranged soap opera have you been binge-watching?” His roar filled the room as he marched toward me, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He gripped my chin with surprising gentleness for such an angry god. “Explain yourself.”
His breath was hot against my skin; I could feel the tempest brewing in him. But my resolve was ironclad; this was about Mia’s safety—my fear for her eclipsed any fright at Matt’s wrath.
“This doesn’t concern you,” I spat out with ice to match his fire.
Matt’s sneer was almost impressive. “To hell it doesn’t!” His teeth were practically grinding dust. “You think you can just waltz in here and offer yourself up to James?”
I shoved him back; there was no time for his tantrums. “I’m deadly serious.” Turning back to James, I laid it all bare. “Please… She’s seen enough darkness for a lifetime.”
James looked at me then—really looked at me—as if seeing past the façade for the first time. “What are you on about?” he asked, voice tinged with something unrecognizable—concern? Doubt? “I’m not in the market for another contract.” His refusal was absolute, leaving no room for argument or hope.
As James turned on his heel, intent on escaping the uncomfortable truth of our little domestic drama, I found a spark of something wild in my chest. Maybe it was desperation or maybe just good old-fashioned sibling fury, but I darted around the room and planted myself firmly between him and the door.
“Please, Mr. Maxwell,” I said, my voice threaded with a mix of pleading and audacity. “Let’s ink a new deal. Featuring yours truly.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of James’ mouth—a silent taunt that irked me. “Our last business venture ended in quite the spectacle,” he quipped. “You sure you’re ready for an encore?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks—embarrassment or anger, take your pick—but I held my ground. “My sister, Mia,” I said, voice tight but determined. “She’s seen more nightmares than most see in a lifetime.”
James exhaled slowly, clearly not in the mood for my dramatics. “Andy,” he said with measured patience, “I respect your spirit, but Mia made her choice.”
I shook my head vehemently; understanding was a luxury he could afford but one that eluded me entirely. “No, Mr. Maxwell, you’re missing the damn point! Mia’s been to hell and back—” Frustration clipped my words short.
Matt’s interest piqued; his gaze shifted between us like he was watching a tennis match.
James’ frown deepened into something more akin to concern. “What is it?” he pressed. “Mia doesn’t deserve what exactly?”
The accusation spilled from me before I could temper it with tact. “You’re bruising her,” I accused bluntly. “And not just her ego.”
One of James’ eyebrows arched in challenge. “We’re adults engaging in consensual activities,” he retorted coolly. “Surely you’re not so naïve.”
My stomach twisted at his words; bile rose in my throat as images flashed behind my eyes—images I’d tried to bury deep down where they couldn’t poison daylight thoughts.
“I’m painfully aware of whatconsensual activitiesentail,” I bit out through clenched teeth. “But Mia… She’s fragile in ways you can’t imagine.”
James leaned in slightly, his interest piqued despite himself. “Why?” The single word hung between us like a challenge.
I sighed heavily; secrets were weights that only grew heavier with time.
“It’s our Uncle Herbert,” I confessed—a whisper carrying years of shadows.
