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The sudden weight on his thighs caused James to jerk backward, his spine slamming against the leather of his executive chair. A sharp intake of breath hissed through his teeth as his hand instinctively flew up, not to embrace, but to grip the armrest with white-knuckled intensity. His eyes, which had been narrowed at a glowing monitor filled with quarterly revenue projections, snapped upward, instantly flashing with a cold, sharp irritation.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in his chest. He didn't even bother to look at her face at first, instead staring down at where her hips met his expensive suit trousers as if she were a stain that had just ruined the fabric. "Get off. Now."

He made no move to touch her, keeping his hands firmly planted on the armrests as if she were radioactive.

James's jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek as he realized she wasn't moving. The sheer audacity of it—the blatant disregard for his personal space and his work—sent a surge of cold fury through him. He didn't waste another word on warnings.

"I said," he growled, his voice dropping to a deadly, quiet register, "get. Off."

He didn't wait for a response. His hands shot out, gripping her waist with a firm, unyielding strength that brooked no argument. He didn't lift her gently; he hoisted her up from his lap in one swift, forceful motion, his eyes burning with an icy glare that promised consequences. He stood up, practically carrying her toward the heavy mahogany door of his office.

Without a second glance at her face, he marched out into the hallway, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing against the marble floor.

*I hold you tight, while you’re carrying me to leave me somewhere far away from your lap*

James’s jaw tightened, the bone practically grinding as her arms wrapped around his neck. He didn't pause, his boots thudding against the polished hardwood floor of the hallway. The grip she had on him was an unnecessary complication, an annoying weight that he wanted gone immediately.

"Let go," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous warning vibrating through his chest. "This isn't a game, Haerin. You're acting like a child."

He carried her down the corridor, passing the closed door of her own bedroom. Without breaking his stride, he stopped in front of it. He didn't gently place her down; instead, he lowered her legs until her feet hit the floor, then practically shoved her backward into the room.

Before she could even regain her balance or process what had just happened, James turned on his heel. He marched back to his office, the heavy oak door swinging shut with a deafening thud behind him. Locking his door.

James

Forced marriage

James

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