His jaw was locked tight as he carried her straight out of the bar, his steps long and unhesitating.
People stared.
A few gasps. Someone laughed. Someone else muttered something under their breath.
Mia barely noticed.
Her face burned, heart hammering as the noise of the bar blurred into the background.
Outside, the night air hit her skin.
Alexander yanked the car door open and put her inside roughly, the force making her bounce against the seat. She scrambled upright, breath uneven.
“Mr. Graves—” she tried, reaching for the door, fingers brushing the handle as she looked up at him.
He stopped.
Then he shot her a look.
Dark. Furious.
It was the kind of look that sucked the words straight out of her mouth. Her sentence died instantly, her throat tightening as she froze.
Alexander slammed the door shut.
He rounded the car, got into the driver’s seat, and slammed his door just as hard.
The engine roared to life.
The drive back was silent.
Deathly silent.
The kind of silence that crawled under the skin, that pressed against the ears, that tightened around the chest until every breath felt too loud.
Alexander didn’t look at her even once.
His eyes stayed locked on the road, jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped near his temple, hands firm on the steering wheel. Unlike every other time—unlike the drives where he would sneak glances at her at red lights, reach over to lace his fingers through hers, squeeze her hand—this time, there was nothing.
No gentle brushing of his thumb against her knuckles. No quiet questions, no soft words meant only for her.
When the car finally stopped in front of his house, the sudden stillness made Mia tense.
Her fingers tightened around her seatbelt, the fabric biting into her skin as her face went pale with nerves. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest.
Alexander got out immediately, rounded the car, and opened her door before she could even unbuckle herself.
The cold night air rushed in.
He leaned inside, pressed the button, and released her seatbelt with sharp, impatient movements. Before her feet could properly touch the ground, his hand closed around her arm and pulled her out. She stumbled once, and the next second, he bent down and scooped her up as if she weighed nothing.
“Mr. Graves, I don’t want to come here—” she protested, her hands pressing weakly against his chest.
He didn’t even look at her.
His jaw was locked tight, his expression dark, eyes fixed straight ahead as he carried her inside. Every step was fast, purposeful, filled with barely contained anger. The door shut behind them with a heavy thud that echoed through the quiet house.
He went straight to the living room and set her down on the couch.
