Chapter 9 Russian Roulette #2
“Don’t argue with me,” he snapped, voice lowering but rougher. His hands hovered in the air, as if unsure whether to reach for her again. “You’re crossing lines you shouldn’t. You were going to die back there. I told you to leave! Why would you risk your life for me?”
Mia stepped back. Her gaze locked onto his.
“I told you,” she repeated, calm in a way that made his stomach twist, “I didn’t do it for you.”
He stared, lost.
Mia’s voice stayed steady, but her eyes softened—just slightly.
“I did it for myself.”
James froze.
She continued, each word sinking into him like a blade.
“You saved my dad once. You carried him on your shoulders when no one else stepped in. You saved his life.” She swallowed, her hands tightening into small fists. “So this time… I saved you.”
A shadow crossed James’s face. His eyes darkened—cold, tense. His jaw clenched hard enough to tremble.
Mia exhaled slowly.
“I’ve repaid what I owed you,” she whispered. “I owed you a life… and now I’ve returned it.”
She stepped back—one small step, but it felt like she was tearing something invisible between them.
“I don’t owe you anything anymore, Mr. Sinclair.”
James’s face grew tighter with every word Mia spoke. His jaw locked, muscles coiled under his skin, and the tension radiated from every inch of him.
Mia, in stark contrast, remained unnervingly calm.
He took a single, heavy step back. His eyes lingered on her. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, his voice low, measured, but edged with a dangerous undertone. “Stay here. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Before she could respond, he turned sharply and stormed out of the room. His footsteps were rough, echoing through the corridor. His shoulders were stiff with anger, fists clenched so tight the veins stood out. Anyone looking at him would know—he was one second away from breaking something.
A while later, when he returned to the room, his stride faltered at the doorway.
The bed was empty.
His chest tightened, rage and disbelief flooding through him. The bag of dinner in his hand trembled violently. His chest heaved, fists clenched so tightly that he slammed the bag down onto the bedside table with a deafening thud.
“Where did Mia go?” James barked at William. “Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on her?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair,” William said quickly. “When I got here, she was already gone. I checked the entire hospital, but she’d already walked out. After that… there was no sign of Mrs. Sinclair. I was just about to call you.”
James’s hands clenched again until his knuckles burned white, fingernails digging into his palms.
“I was gone for barely ten fucking minutes,” he growled, voice cracking with frustration. “I tried so hard to find her… and the moment she was finally in my hands, she walked out again?!”
He drew in a breath, jaw trembling with restrained fury. His dark eyes bore into William. “Find her. Right now. And figure out what she was doing at Max Mall. That’ll tell us where she went.” He paused, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I don’t want her disappearing again.”
***
The morning sun spilled through the grand windows of the Graves mansion, bathing the dining room in warm light.
Yet to Mia, the brightness felt distant, muted.
She sat at the long, polished table, staring blankly at the untouched breakfast before her.
Her hand hovered over the spoon, fingers limp, mind wandering far from the room.
Anita approached, balancing another plate of fruit. She placed it gently in front of Mia, her movements careful.
Mia didn’t move. Her eyes remained fixed on the table. Her body leaned slightly forward, shoulders tense, fingers tightening briefly around the edge of the table.
‘Should I tell Mr. Graves what happened last night?’ She thought, her chest tightening as a cold knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. ‘Should I tell him I got kidnapped because of James, or will that only make things worse?’ Her
She wanted to keep her distance from James, and the thought of escalating anything further made her chest tighten. With a slow exhale, she set the spoon down, pushed her chair back, and began to rise.
Anita’s eyes widened, and her hand hovered midair. “Mrs. Graves… you haven’t eaten anything. Maybe you should eat a little more?”
Mia offered a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m full already. Thank you. I’m not hungry anymore.”
She turned to leave but Alexander was beside her before she could take another step, his hand landing lightly on her shoulder, guiding her gently back into her chair. He crouched slightly to meet her gaze, his eyes scanning her face with quiet concern.
“Mrs. Graves,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her temple. His thumb lingered against her cheek, the warmth of his skin searing a fleeting heat across her skin. “You do such intense exercise every night. You need to eat more… to keep your strength.”
Mia felt her cheeks flush violently, her heartbeat stuttering. Before she could form a response, he picked up the spoon, his fingers brushing hers as he guided a bite of creamy hollandaise sauce-coated eggs to her lips.
“Eat,” he said softly.
Mia obeyed, opening her mouth and taking the bite, her nerves prickling at the closeness.
When a trace of sauce clung to the corner of her lips, Alexander leaned in without hesitation. His tongue flicked it away, then his thumb followed, grazing her skin. Her face burned hotter, and she stared at him in shock as he wiped the spot with his thumb, eyes never leaving hers.
“Mia,” he murmured, “you need to eat properly.”
Anita, standing nearby, quickly turned her head, staring at the wall to hide her embarrassment.
Just then, Alexander’s phone rang. Unfazed, he straightened slightly and answered with one hand, putting the call on speaker while casually resuming his own bite of food.
“Alexander, what is happening with Janet? Did you handle the situation?” Camila’s voice came through, clipped with irritation.
He leaned back in his chair. “She left the job. She doesn’t work in my company anymore.”
A heavy sigh escaped Camila, but disapproval lingered in her tone. “So you didn’t take care of the matter.”
Alexander’s eyebrows lifted, a cool edge in his expression. “What does that even mean? I told you she left the company. The matter is over. It was a contract. I ended it. End of story.”
Camila’s voice snapped over the phone, sharp and cutting through the air.
“Alexander Graves! How could you be so reckless—signing a contract with a woman in your company without thinking? And now you’re saying it’s over just like that?
After she barged into my house and caused such a scene over that damn contract? !”
Alexander’s hand brushed against Mia’s as he reached across the table, lifting it gently to his lips.
He pressed a soft, possessive kiss to her fingers before finally letting them go.
His dark eyes flicked to her for a brief second.
Turning his attention back to the phone, he spoke, calm but taut with restrained irritation,
“Mom, she agreed to the contract. I offered her the money, she accepted, and I signed it. It was purely business. And Allen already made sure she understood everything before we canceled it, and I personally ensured she wouldn’t set foot in our house again.”
Camila’s patience snapped instantly. Her voice cut through him sharply, tinged with anger. “This isn’t something you can just sweep aside. I need you to handle this personally. Go speak to Janet privately. Make sure this ridiculous contract is erased and that she knows it doesn’t exist anymore!”
Alexander’s gaze slid toward Mia, who was completely oblivious, continuing to pick at her breakfast as if nothing at all had been said. Her face showed no reaction—not the slightest flicker of jealousy, not even a hint of curiosity. Not even a glance in his direction. She was utterly indifferent.
He frowned, a subtle tension tightening his jaw. “I don’t want to meet anyone privately,” he said evenly.
Camila’s tone sharpened, becoming insistent. “Alexander, you signed a contract with a woman who came to my house claiming to be your wife. You must make it clear to her—so there’s no misunderstanding in the future.”
Alexander’s chest tightened. He watched Mia, silently seething, as she calmly selected the next dish to eat, completely indifferent to the conversation about him and Janet. The sight made his chest tighten with frustration.
He watched her expectantly, hoping for even the smallest reaction when Camila mentioned Janet and him meeting privately. But Mia simply picked up another piece of fruit, her movements slow and bored, her expression calm, untouched by the tension swirling around her.
That calm—her utter lack of reaction—infuriated him further. He pressed his lips together, jaw working as he ground his teeth. Finally, he hissed into the phone, “Alright, I’ll meet her privately,” all while keeping his eyes locked on Mia.
Mia didn’t even acknowledge him. She simply continued her breakfast, moving her spoon calmly and selecting each bite as if he wasn’t even there. She remained completely unbothered.
The sight sent a jolt of raw irritation through him. Without another word, he shoved back his chair, the scraping sound loud against the polished floor, and strode out of the house without another word.
Anita and Allen exchanged knowing glances.
Allen exhaled slowly, tension written across his face, before following Alexander outside. Mia, unfazed, continued her breakfast. Serene, unconcerned.
Anita let out a soft snicker under her breath, glancing at Mia before hurrying into the kitchen. She pulled out her phone and dialed Camila. The moment the call connected, she whispered, careful not to let Mia hear.
“Mrs. Graves… do you know what just happened at the dining table while you were on the phone with Mr. Graves?”
Camila’s curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about?”