James Lancaster's voice was ice-cold, laced with unyielding dominance and the cutting authority of a king.
Clara Green's once-unshakable defiance crumbled instantly under the sheer force of his presence.
Like a puppet on strings, she let out a soft "Oh," and took two obedient steps forward.
James tilted his chin up slightly, avoiding her gaze, and commanded, "Come here."
Clara started to move, then froze mid-step.
"What now?" She planted her feet stubbornly, her tone defiant—though her voice barely carried.
James frowned, finally meeting her eyes. Assuming this was about that morning's incident with Anthony, he ground out, "If you're apologizing, put some effort into it. Get over here."
Apologize? Clara blinked, confusion flashing across her face.
"Didn't you swear there was nothin
