Alexander rose to his feet.
He turned away and strode out of the house without a backward glance, Sebastian and Sawyer following closely behind.
***
Alexander stepped out of the shower.
Even after washing, the red scratches on his hands were still visible—marks left from pounding Gabriel’s face without mercy.
Fresh from the shower, he slipped into bed behind Mia, his arm settling around her bare waist. She stirred in her sleep, turning instinctively toward him.
Her fingers brushed over his hand—and froze.
She frowned, eyes opening as she felt the roughness of his skin. She looked down immediately.
His knuckles were red. Bruised. Scratched.
Her breath hitched as she looked up at his face. “What happened to your hands?” she asked, worry flooding her eyes.
Alexander gently pulled his hand from her grasp. “It’s nothing,” he said casually.
But a moment later, he thought about it for a brief second, and then lifted his other hand too. “It really hurts.”
It was injured too.
Her concern instantly deepened. She tried to sit up. “I’ll get the emergency box. You need to clean this—”
Alexander caught her wrist and pulled her back beneath him in one smooth motion, pinning her gently against the bed.
“Just kiss me,” he murmured, his voice low. “I promise the pain will disappear.”
“Mr. Graves, stop it,” she protested softly, trying to push at his chest.
He didn’t let her go.
“How did you get hurt?” she insisted again.
Instead of answering, he buried his face into her neck, his lips moving slowly against her skin. His hands trapped hers above her head.
“Don’t bother me with questions,” he muttered.
Her breath faltered. She closed her eyes, her fingers curling weakly.
***
The bar was thick with tension. James hadn’t slept a wink in hours, and he hadn’t even left the bar since last night. His body was still trembling from the alcohol coursing through his veins.
Gabriel and Neil stumbled in, Gabriel leaning heavily on Neil’s shoulder, bruised and battered, black-and-blue marks crawling across his face and arms. Neil guided him to the couch, helping him slump down beside James, who barely spared him a glance. Even seeing Gabriel in that state, James remained silent, his grey eyes distant, cold.
Across from them, Kylie lounged leisurely on a single-seater, swirling her glass of whiskey. Her gaze was sharp, predatory,fixed on James. She had hovered around him for months, searching for an opening to get close to him. But the man, even drunk to the edge of oblivion, wouldn’t allow her near.
She had even orchestrated attacks, and tried to kill Mia to get his attention back. The police had been so close to noticing her involvement. But without solid proof linking her to the accident, she was walking a very thin line. She just needed to marry James anyhow. And then with James’s influence, dismissing any case against her would be a piece of cake.
But the damn man… even when drunk to the point of oblivion, wouldn’t let her near him. The thought of her touching him seemed to disgust him to his core.
Every day, it became harder for her to contain her anger. She had even tried to kill Mia for him, and yet… he didn’t even spare her a glance, a touch, or a single ounce of attention. The more he ignored her, the more impossible it became for her to hold back her fury.
Her frustration was evident. She leaned forward, poured whiskey generously into a glass in front of James, and smiled. “You’re enjoying this drink, aren’t you?” she taunted.
