Page 22 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

"Fine. But I’m still your wife." She stepped closer, fire still burning in her voice.

"In name only. A point you keep seeming to conveniently forget." The words hit like a punch, harder than anything I expected.

Her eyes locked onto mine, refusing to look away. "I thought..." she said, then stopped, the words trailing off.

"You thought what?" I asked, trying to regain control of a situation that was spiraling out of my grasp.

"This is just another one of your games."

Damn it. This was slipping through my fingers. "You needed the money," I said, a last-ditch attempt to deflect, to remind her of the bargain. "I didn’t hear you complaining."

"You don’t get to do that," she said, stepping so close I could feel the heat of her anger. "You don’t get to make this about me."

"Then what is it about, Claire?"

"It’s about your brother," she said, her voice steady. "It’s always been about him."

Something in my chest twisted painfully, and I struggled to breathe. The world I’d carefully constructed started to collapse, and Claire was at the center, so close to the truth, but not quite there. I moved to put distance between us, but she followed, relentless.

"You know what?" she said, her voice cutting through the air. "I don’t care. I don’t care what this is about. I don’t care about you trying to screw up your brother’s life. You deserve each other."

I jerked back, not expecting the sting of her words. "You should care."

"No," she said. "Youshould care. But you’re too damn proud."

She was right. Too close to the truth. Too close to everything I tried to bury. "Back off," I said, voice rough.

"Make me," she said, and for a moment, it wasn’t anger in her eyes but something far more dangerous.

She had crossed a line, or maybe I had. Her steps were slow, deliberate, closing the last of the distance between us. “Make me, Alexander.”

I should have moved away, should have kept her at arm's length, but I was drawn in, caught in the challenge of her voice. “Prove this is all a game. That none of it is real. That you’re a man of honor who will uphold contracts.” She didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. Her lips parted, and I prepared myself for whatever came next.

The emotions between us shifted ever so slightly, and for one reckless second, I almost let it consume us. Almost grabbed her, pulled her into my arms, to take her, own her, make her mine. She was too damn close. To the truth. To me.

And then she stepped back. With a tilt of her head, she whispered, “That’s what I thought.” Her retreat was sudden, almost painful. My pulse hammered as I watched her, the realization setting in that this wasn’t going to hold. She was the one breaking through, not me. And it terrified the hell out of me.

Claire turned, her eyes meeting mine. "Why are you so afraid?" she whispered, the question taunting me.

I had no answers. Claire turned and walked away, leaving me with nothing but the unbearable truth she’d almost uncovered.

Sleep had eluded me, so I planned instead. I’d planned an escape, a break from the simmering tensions between Claire and me. Instead, I found myself watching Claire. She was luminous in a way I wasn’t prepared for, laughter spilling so easily from her lips, sunlight catching in her hair. She was joy—unrestrained and unselfconscious—and it left me mesmerized. Envious.

She shouldn’t have had this effect on me, but I was lying to myself if I thought otherwise. When she teased me, I nearly snapped, but she just laughed, knowing exactly how to get under my skin. It was almost as if she’d let yesterday’s argument go, while I was still stressing over it.

We’d escaped the city for a weekend, a trip arranged for the semblance of a relationship. I should have been focused on keeping up appearances, but my eyes kept finding her, drinking in the way she embodied a freedom I didn’t allow myself.

Claire tossed me a grin. "You look lost, Alexander. Need me to buy you a map?"

I bristled at the cheekiness of her words, though part of me marveled at her audacity. "Very funny," I said, trying to sound disinterested. Who needed a map on a well-marked trailhead?

She walked beside me, her pace relaxed. Mine was not. I felt a jolt each time our shoulders brushed. She made everything look effortless, as if happiness was her default state, while mine was nothing more than cold ambitions. I was lying to myself if I thought she wasn’t affecting me.

Claire’s laughter rang out again as she watched a squirrel race up a nearby tree. I glanced her way, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. "Is there something amusing?"

"You," she said simply, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I think you might actually be having fun."

I gave her a sideways glance, my mouth quirking despite myself. "You think wrong."

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