After I Married My Rival, He Dropped The Act

Synopsis

"Here's the post-wedding agreement. Sign it," I said, slapping the document down in front of James Foster. I raised my chin defiantly, making sure he saw just how unyielding I was. "First, we each have our own room—no sharing a bedroom. "Second, we stay out of each other's business. No meddling in private affairs. "Third, in public, we play the perfect couple. Behind closed doors, we're just housemates." James sat back on the sofa, long legs crossed, encased in expensive tailored trousers—every inch the image of detached aristocracy. He hadn't even glanced at the agreement. Look at him, acting all superior. He had been my rival since we were kids, and now he still had no choice but to marry me for business. I cleared my throat, ready to read clause four aloud. But then he rose, his tall frame unfolding with deliberate calm. He picked up the document I'd stayed up half the night drafting. Without a word, James tore it cleanly in two—then again, and again, until pieces fluttered down around us like bitter snow. My scalp prickled with fury. "James, what the hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped. He took slow, deliberate steps toward me, his tall frame completely engulfing me. The air was filled with the crisp, woody cologne he wore, making the tension almost suffocating. Leaning in, he brought his lips near my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Sophia Grant, have you forgotten?" he murmured. His voice was low and dangerous, with a raspy undertone I couldn't quite place. "I was the one who begged for this marriage," he said.