Page 89 of The Unwilling Bride
She flashes a triumphant grin. “That was foreplay.”
“Foreplay?” Heat rushes up my neck. I try to edge away again, but James keeps me tucked against his side, his hand firmly around my waist.
His mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile he refuses to release. He’scalm, composed, and infuriatingly unshaken. I swear, an explosion could rip through the room, and he’d barely blink. Considering his past, it probably has.
She’s wrong.
Yes, there’s heat between James and me, a spark that snaps and flares when we’re too close. But I also loathe him as my boss. My snapping at him and storming off was not foreplay. It was desperation. Frustration. A sign that I’d had enough. And that’s what got me into trouble and landed me in this position.
Still, she looks so delighted with her conclusion that I don’t have the heart to shatter it. Maybe, this is how she’s making peace with our marriage. Maybe, this is the story she needs.
“So…you’re not upset that he and I…are…you know…”
"—getting married," James supplies.
I shoot him a sideways glance.
Phoenix claps her hands. "I’m really happy for you guys, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not surprised."
She turns to James.
"Did not expect to see the day my bachelor of a brother would agree to be tied down, but if there’s anyone who can tame you, it’s my darling best friend." She places her hands on my shoulders and leans in, kissing me on both cheeks. "I’m really chuffed. But I hope you know what you’re getting into."
Yeah, me too.
"You’re too good for him." She leans back and flashes me another smile.
"I agree." James’ expression turns serious. "No one’s prouder or happier or more shocked than me that she said yes."
He seems so sincere, he could fool me. If I didn’t know the real reason, the real story, I would have sighed.
Like Phe does.
James raises my hand and kisses my fingertips. "I don’t deserve you."
I gape at him.
The arctic freeze is gone. The Ice Commander who barked orders and wielded silence like a weapon has been replaced by someone I barely recognize. Someone whose eyes are locked on mine with an intensity that makes my pulse stutter.
His gaze is devastating. Those blue eyes are the color of bruised storm clouds, the North Sea in a squall. They hold something raw. Unguarded. Vulnerable.
No one looking at him right now would doubt his sincerity. He's wearing every emotion on his face like he's forgotten how to hide. Like a lifetime of carefully constructed walls just…evaporated.
Which is impossible.
Because this is James. The man who spent three decades perfecting emotional lockdown. The Ice Commander doesn't do feelings. He contains them. Buries them. Weaponizes their absence.
It doesn’t compute. Then it dawns on me that he’s acting.
I’m relieved. And disappointed. For a teeny-tiny moment there, I hoped for his words to be real.
But this is part of the arrangement we agreed to. He’s putting on an act in front of Phe.
Relieved I didn’t make a fool of myself by falling for his performance, I decide to play along.
I smile up at him coyly. “Oh, honeybun, it’s I who doesn’t deserve you. No one was more surprised than me when you proposed. You swept me off my feet, sugarplum.”
He winces.
