The moment I said it, I saw the change in James's expression. His face, usually so controlled, hardened into a mask, but I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. I didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to be the one who shattered what little peace we had left, but this conversation couldn't be avoided anymore.
"I'm going to marry Vincent," I said softly, even though the words felt like acid on my tongue.
James stepped back, his jaw clenched so tightly that I could see the muscles twitching. He didn't say anything at first, just stared at me as if he hadn't heard correctly—or maybe he didn't want to believe it. I didn't blame him. I had tried not to believe it myself, but no amount of pretending could change what was happening.
"What did you say?" he asked, his voice low, almost dangerous.
"I'm marrying Vincent," I repeated, this time more firmly. I couldn't waver, not now. "It's been arranged, James. I don't have a choice."
