Chapter 29
"I was just chatting with her. How was I supposed to know she'd suddenly start crying? Amelia, did I say something wrong to upset you?" I blinked my teary eyes, looking completely innocent.
I could clearly feel that the moment I hooked my arm through James's and pressed close to him, his whole body stiffened.
He looked down at me, his eyes full of disbelief, shock, and a hint of obvious helplessness.
He had clearly never seen me like this before—acting cute, showing weakness, relying on him with such intimate gestures.
This was completely beyond his fixed perception of me as scheming and stubborn.
Amelia froze too, even forgetting to cry, staring wide-eyed at my sudden change of face and James's unusual reaction.
James opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something, but seeing me so different from usual, with this soft, feminine charm, those cold accusations got stuck in his throat, not knowing how to respond for a moment.
He was used to facing my sharp edges and resistance, but didn't know how to handle my sudden softness.
I sneered inwardly, but kept up that dependent posture on my face, even resting my head on his shoulder, feeling his muscles immediately tense up.
"Are you sick?" Amelia reached out to feel my forehead, as if my earlier "performance" was delusional from a fever.
I instinctively turned my head away, avoiding her touch, my eyes coldly sweeping over her.
"I'm not sick." My tone was firm and decisive.
I paused, turning my gaze to James beside me, whose expression was complex and body somewhat stiff. The corner of my lips curved into a meaningful smile, my voice deliberately soft but containing a challenge to Amelia. "I was just too stupid before, didn't know how to treat my husband properly."
I emphasized "husband" particularly hard.
Clearly throwing back at him that possessive "wife" he'd used at the Shadow Circuit Studio entrance.
What I didn't expect was that when James heard this, his ears visibly turned a barely noticeable shade of red at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Although he quickly tensed his face, trying to cover it up with his usual coldness, that fleeting strangeness didn't escape my eyes.
If my earlier actions were mostly out of retaliation against Amelia and momentary spite, then now, seeing his rare, almost innocent reaction, I actually felt a bit of mischievous interest.
It seemed this James, who was used to controlling everything with his cold face and cold heart, wasn't completely invincible after all.
Taking advantage of him not having fully recovered from that discomfort, I took the initiative to reach out my hand, no longer the loose hold from before, but directly threading my fingers through his, interlocking them tightly.
The moment our palms pressed together, I could feel his fingers tremble slightly, but he didn't pull away.
I looked up, ignoring Amelia's angry eyes beside us, and gave James a sweet smile, urging him. "Honey, when are we going home? I'm a bit tired."
James's Adam's apple bobbed; he glanced at me, his eyes churning with complex emotions I couldn't understand, but with a ripple disturbed by my sudden initiative.
He was silent for a few seconds before speaking in a low voice. "Now."
To prevent Amelia from interfering, I pretended to say goodbye to Amelia. "Amelia, we'll be going then."
After speaking, I ignored her, pulled James along, and walked past her with my head held high.
Back at that familiar yet strange villa, the servants respectfully took our coats.
We were silent the whole way.
Until we entered the living room, the lights came on, and there was no one else around.
James stopped, trying to pull his hand back, his tone returning to its usual calm composure, "The show's over, you can let go now."
But I gripped tighter, not only not letting go, but following his turning motion, I stepped forward and wrapped my other hand around his neck.
Our distance was suddenly pulled extremely close, close enough to see my reflection in his pupils, and to feel his increasingly hot breath.
I looked up, my eyes rarely taking on a hazy, ambiguous color, my voice wrapped in seductive hoarseness. "It's over already? Didn't you say we needed to build chemistry? Just now in front of Grandma, I don't think it was natural enough."
I keenly saw that the last bit of calm composure in his eyes, under my almost blatant teasing, shattered like ice and was quickly replaced by a deep, rolling desire.
His eyes darkened, like a bottomless ocean, locked tightly on me, a dangerous attraction for some people.
"You asked for it." His magnetic, pleasant voice was extremely hoarse, sounding like a warning, but more like a precursor to losing control.
Not only did I not retreat, I stood on tiptoes, bringing my lips close to his ear, my breath spraying on his sensitive earlobe. "Do you dare to take me on?"
This sentence, like a final command, completely destroyed his rationality.
He suddenly gripped the back of my head, no longer giving me any chance to speak, and kissed me forcefully.
This kiss was completely different from that punishing, angry kiss at the hotel.
It was full of plunder, exploration, and a long-suppressed, suddenly erupting passion.
His tongue dominantly conquered territory, entangling with mine, sucking, licking, as if wanting to take away all the air from my lungs.
My hands still wrapped around his neck, feeling the powerful pulse of his carotid artery.
His other hand gripped my slim waist, holding me firmly in his arms, so tight there wasn't a gap.
His body temperature transmitted through the thin fabric, burning hot.
In the confusion, his hand began to wander improperly on my back, that burning temperature causing me to shiver even through the clothing.
Our breaths intertwined, temperatures rising, the air filled with intense hormonal scent, all pretense, calculation, and hatred seemed to be temporarily forgotten in this passionate kiss.
Just as we were both getting aroused, kissing inseparably, about to lose control and fall onto the nearby sofa, Isabella's voice suddenly came.
We hastily separated, an intimate breath between our lips and teeth. He turned his head and lowered his eyes, his voice rarely trembling.
"I'll go check." I turned aside to let him pass, but the space was too cramped, and my breasts brushed against his burning chest, through the cool silk designer shirt.
This action made his eyes burn red with desire, which he suppressed with his powerful self-control.