In order to make myself breathe properly I kept fixed my eyes on James while sitting across the table from him. He was watching me, always watching. Every move I made, every breath I took, felt monitored.
The tension had been suffocating since that night in the study, when I’d nearly been caught with the confidential file in my hands. James hadn't mentioned it. He hadn't confronted me.
But I knew better.
His behavior had shifted. His touches lingered longer, as if marking his territory. His kisses felt possessive. And the worst part? Looking at me now kind of like he's been expecting something).
Tonight, he had hardly touched anything, drinking his whiskey in tiny sips while his eyes seemed to be blank. Then, he finally spoke, his voice deceptively soft.
"Are you hiding something from
