But he didn’t step away.
Instead, he leaned over her, caging her in. One arm slammed down against the back of the couch beside her head. His other hand came up and gripped her face, fingers pressing into hercheeks, forcing her to look at him. His hold was tight, his thumb digging in.
His eyes burned into hers, dark and stormy, jealousy flashing openly now.
“Did you forget,” Alexander asked quietly, his voice low and deadly calm, “that you are my wife?”
The softness of his tone only made it worse. Beneath it, something violent churned—rage, possessiveness, hurt all tangled together.
Mia swallowed, her chest tight. She gathered what little courage she had left, straightened her back despite the way he loomed over her, and met his gaze without flinching.
“We’re about to get a divorce.”
The change in him was instant.
His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped along his cheek. His fingers tightened on her face before he caught himself.
“We are not getting a divorce,” he snapped. “You are my wife. And you will live with me until the day we both die.”
His eyes searched her face, scanning every flicker of emotion, anger bleeding into something rawer—something almost desperate.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice rough now, “why were you sitting there holding his hand?”
“I wasn’t,” Mia said quickly, shaking her head. “It was just a second. He reached out and grabbed it.”
Alexander’s gaze darkened further, jealousy blazing openly now. His grip slid from her face to her jaw, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him.
“If you want a man,” he growled, leaning closer, his breath hot against her lips, “why isn’t it me? Why the hell are you running away from me when I’m trying to get close to you—when I’m trying to be with you?”
“Mr. Graves, we are not—”
She didn’t get to finish.
He bent down and kissed her.
The kiss was fierce, angry, and overwhelming—like he was trying to pour every unsaid emotion into it. His lips crashed against hers, stealing the breath right out of her lungs, leaving no space for resistance, no room for words. Her hands curled into his shirt as her body reacted before her mind could stop it.
By the time he pulled back slightly, she was gasping.
His forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing hard.
“You are my wife,” he said hoarsely, the anger in his voice cracking around the edges. “If you’re going to hold someone’s hand, it will be mine. If you’re going to be with someone, it will be me.”
His hand slid to her waist, gripping possessively.
“And if you’re going to share a bed—” His voice dropped dangerously low. “—it will be my fucking bed.”
Before she could respond, before she could gather her thoughts or her defenses, his lips claimed hers again, silencing everything else.
Mia’s breath hitched as he pressed closer, his hands gripping her sides firmly. She tried to push back, but his strength was more than what she could handle. In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted her into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.He carried her up stairs, to the bedroom, her muffled protests were swallowed by the force of his kiss.
He didn’t set her down on the bed but instead made a detour toward the bathroom, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor. She twisted in his arms, trying to regain her balance, but he held her securely, his hands unrelenting on her back and thighs.
He placed her roughly on the bathroom counter. The cold surface sent a shiver up her spine.
“Mr.Graves—let me go!” she cried, struggling, but his fingers tightened around her thighs.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he removed his tie with one hand, the fabric slipping through his fingers. Mia tried to twist away, but he pressed a knee lightly against her calves, pinning her against the counter.
