Page 25 of Christmas with Billionaire's Runaway Bride

"Fired?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. "Claire, you think it's that simple?"

He releases his hold on me, taking a step back but still maintaining an intimidating presence. The room feels like it's closing in as I wait for his next words.

"You've managed to complicate everything," he says, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I don't want you to leave. But," he pauses, his expression shifting between anger and a hint of vulnerability, "things are going to change."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Change how?" I ask cautiously.

He looks at me, his gaze intense. "I don't know yet, but we can't go on like this," he admits, the raw honesty cutting through the charged atmosphere.

As the gravity of the situation settles in, I grapple with the uncertainty of what these changes might entail, both personally and professionally. The aftermath of this confrontation leaves us standing on a precipice, the path forward uncertain and fraught with complexities.

"You want to ruin me, Claire. James? Does he give it to you good? Is he better than me?" Michael's words cut through the charged air, his eyes flickering with a dangerous glint.

"Did your new wife give it to you good?" I retort, catching him off guard.

"Don't do that, Claire," he softens his gaze, lowering his voice. "I can explain that," he attempts.

"There's no need. We don't belong to each other anyway. You are free to do as you please," I respond, attempting to assert my independence. But he presses himself into me, growling.

"You are mine!" he declares, his possessiveness hanging heavy in the space between us. The clash of emotions creates a tumultuous atmosphere, leaving us both entangled in the complexities of our shared history and the uncertainties of the future.

His declaration reverberates in the confined space, a stark reminder of the possessive ties that linger between us. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that, despite the tumultuous nature of our relationship, Michael still harbors a sense of ownership.

"You are mine!" he repeats, the words carrying a weight that makes it hard to ignore. The conflicting emotions within me swirl, torn between asserting my independence and acknowledging the lingering connection we share.

"Michael, we can't keep going in circles," I assert, attempting to distance myself from the overpowering dynamic. "We've both made choices, and we have to live with the consequences."

He leans in, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispers, "You can't deny what's between us."

A shiver runs down my spine, and I find myself entangled in the complexities of desire and frustration. The gravity of our shared history pulls me in conflicting directions, leaving me uncertain about how to navigate this charged moment.

"Have you already forgotten about me, Claire?" Michael's voice carries a mischievous undertone, a glint in his eyes revealing a mixture of playfulness and something deeper.

"You refuse everything that I buy you, but you accept his offer for a new house? I bought you a new car and sent it to your place when Kendra informed me of your troubles, but you refused and sent it back. Now you want to go pick out a new one with him?" Hurt is etched across Michael's face as he lays bare his frustrations.

"Oh, your guilty gift? No one had to tell James about my troubles, you know. He saw it on his own. Don't even go there. Did you ask your wife first before buying them?" I retort, a hint of taunt in my words. The exchange reveals the tangled web of emotions and accusations, each word carrying the weight of our shared history and the complexities of our present circumstances.

"I need to get going. See you tomorrow," I declare, pushing Michael away. He doesn't resist, and I finally make my way out of the office. Walking down the corridor, I'm taken by surprise as he pins me against a wall, kissing me with an intensity that seems to defy reason. The kiss isn't gentle; it ventures down to my neck, leaving a mark that I can't conceal.

We finally pull apart, my face flushed, and I continue walking toward the exit. He follows me to the entrance, saying nothing but wearing a smug look on his face. As soon as I spot James outside his car, clearly waiting for me, I understand the motive behind Michael's unexpected display. My face still flushed, and Michael's mark on my neck in plain sight, the tangled web of emotions leaves me caught between conflicting desires and the looming complications of the choices I've made.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Confusion

Silence hangs heavy between James and me as I approach, the awkward tension palpable. His eyes shift from my flushed face to the conspicuous mark on my neck, and I can sense his confusion.

"Everything alright?" James finally asks, his voice revealing a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Yeah, just... work stuff," I mumble, attempting to downplay the complexity of the situation. As we drive to explore potential houses, the weight of Michael's impulsive act lingers, a visible reminder of the entanglement I find myself in.

"I have a surprise for you later. It's an out-of-town thing," James declares, and I catch Michael's smirk faltering.

"Jerk!" I mumble to myself, my frustration directed toward Michael. James, seemingly unfazed, opens the front door of his car for me, maintaining a composed demeanor.

As James reaffirms his plan loud enough for Michael to hear, a noticeable shift occurs. I watch as Michael's smile drops, adding a layer of complexity to the already intricate dynamics at play. The unspoken rivalry lingers, and I find myself torn between the excitement of James' surprise and the lingering presence of Michael, each contributing to the tumultuous narrative of my personal life.

We head to a location not too far from town, a private neighborhood that raises my suspicions. I glance at James, and he's smiling, giving me the sense that he might have already spotted a house. Billionaires like him don't typically engage in house hunting.

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