She tried to walk away.
James moved instantly, stepping in front of her again, blocking her path and forcing her to stop.
“How long are you going to stay out of the house like this?” James asked, staring straight into her eyes.
His anger hadn’t cooled—it had only tightened, coiling beneath his skin. Though his voice softened slightly, the agitation bled through every syllable.
“Let’s go home,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’ll take you.”
Mia jerked away instantly.
“I don’t want to,” she snapped. “I told you—you and I are divorced. What are you even doing here?”
Instead of backing off, something in James hardened.
His jaw clenched as irritation flared openly across his face. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her towardthe table where she’d been sitting earlier, her bag still lying there. He forced her down into one of the chairs.
“Sit down,” he ordered sharply, impatience cutting through his voice.
“Let go!” Mia struggled, twisting her wrist, trying to pull free. “I don’t want to sit with you!”
He didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, his eyes darkened further, anger pulsing dangerously behind them.
His expression shifted—sharper, more intense, bordering on unhinged. He bent down as if to lift her straight into his arms.
Mia tore her hand free at the last second and shoved him back. “What is wrong with you?” she muttered under her breath, shaken and furious.
James didn’t seem to hear her. Their faces were inches apart as he lowered his voice into a quiet, dangerous growl.
“If you don’t sit here and talk to me,” he said slowly, “I’ll book a hotel room right now and lock you inside with me until you do.”
Chapter 4 The Attack
Mia’s teeth clenched as anger surged through her. ‘He’s really turning into a madman,’ she thought.
She sucked in a deep breath, slapped his hand away, and stood up. Without another word, she walked back to the couch on her own and sat down stiffly, her posture guarded and tense.
James followed immediately, dropping into the seat beside her.
His gaze swept over the empty glasses on the table, then returned to her face, dark and probing. “You drank so much,” he said. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to,” Mia replied flatly, refusing to meet his eyes.
James shifted closer and draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him.
“Stop,” she muttered, pushing at his arm.
He ignored it, tightening his hold and drawing her even closer to his side.
Mia stiffened, fury simmering beneath her skin.
Then James slid his phone out of his pocket.
He unlocked it, swiped a few times, and turned the screen toward her. “Look,” he said quietly.
He tilted the phone so she couldn’t avoid seeing it.
A photo of a white wedding dress filled the screen.
