Chapter 1
"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.
*****
What? He begged for this? Had he lost his mind completely?
I stumbled back in shock, desperate to put some distance between us, but my back pressed against the icy edge of the dining table—cornered, with nowhere left to run.
That jerk James had been my nemesis since forever.
No matter what I did, he'd always do the exact opposite.
If I skipped class, he'd somehow catch me at the school gate, like he had a radar for my mischief.
If I finally managed to scrape by with a passing grade, he'd casually ace the test with a perfect score, leaving me to face their joint reprimands.
For someone like him to ask for this marriage would require nothing short of the apocalypse.
"Don't talk nonsense! Both our grandpas were wasted when they set this up. Like I'd ever want to marry you!" I retorted, my neck stiff with defiance.
James' eyes locked onto mine, still and bottomless, like I might get lost in them if I stared too long.
After a moment, he let out a low, deep laugh.
That laugh came straight from his chest—damn, it was sexy as hell.
"Not willing?" he echoed, with a teasing lilt in his voice. "Then who was the one at the wedding, holding onto my arm like you couldn't bear to let go?"
My cheeks burned bright red.
Please, it was just because those heels were sky-high and I was terrified I'd eat it in front of everyone!
Like hell I'd ever say that out loud.
"I was... performing! For the guests! To save the Grant family any embarrassment!" I blurted out, doubling down.
"Oh? Is that so?" James raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
He didn't say anything, just slowly undid his platinum cufflinks, showing off those sculpted forearms.
He closed the distance between us, step by step, until I was pressed against the cold wall.
"So, are we supposed to put on the full couple act now?" James teased, his voice low and suggestive.
His fingertips grazed my cheek, making me shudder.
My heart nearly stopped from the shock.
The full act? What did he mean, the full act? What was this pervert trying to pull?
"James! Don't mess around! The agreement says—" I blurted out.
"Agreement?" He laughed softly. "I already tore it up."
He planted one hand on the wall right by my head, trapping me between his arm and the wall.
In that confined space, his clean, woody scent was everywhere, overwhelming.
I was so tense that I could barely breathe.
James murmured, his forehead nearly brushing mine, "Sophia, from this moment on, you're my wife—mine, and mine alone.
"Your rules? They don't count with me. There's only one rule in my book."
He paused, his gaze churning with something I couldn't decipher.
"Stay with me. Don't even think about leaving."
With that, he stood up straight, as if the guy who was all over me a second ago had never existed.
He turned and walked upstairs to the master bedroom, leaving me with nothing but his cold, businesslike back.
"Get some rest. We're heading back to the Foster Estate tomorrow," he called out, sounding miles away.
I leaned against the wall, my knees turning to jelly.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.
What was that bastard up to just now?
I looked down and saw the shredded agreement just sitting there on the floor.
Guess this married life wasn't going to be as calm as I imagined.