Mags_249

She was fire. He was the storm. Together, they could either ignite the world or destroy each other.

Diana Margaret Pierce was a woman of quiet grace and fierce independence, stubborn, passiomate and unafraid to carve her own path, she had no place in a world ruled by powerful men until she crossed paths with James Deniro Alfred.

James was more than a billionaire CEO; he was a man built on secrets, contradictions and unyielding control. Beneath his polished exterior lay a dangerous force, one that no one dared to challenge until Diana. She wasn't just another pawn in his carefully constructed life. She was the one woman who could shatter his control.

"Boss the madam has a tail on her," one of James's men reported, disrupting his usual calm.

James dark eyes flittered with unrestrained fury. He leaned back, his voice deadly soft. "Well, what are you waiting for? Burn them alive."

Thrust into a world of power, danger and unwavering devotion, Diana soon learns that being James Deniro Alfred's wife is more than just love; its war. And when enemies rise from the shadows, she must decide: will she be his salvation or his downfall?

THE PRICELESS JEWEL...

Why would you think that?" James countered, a touch of defensiveness seeping into his voice.

Diana raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know. All your life, you've seen women dress conservatively, even at home and work."

Diana's eyes narrowed as she nodded, but her glumness remained as she picked up her fork and began eating.

"I never said I hated this Diana," James mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"You didn't have to," she stated, staring at him. "You turned it into a whole thing."

James felt a surge of heat and frustration. He didn't know how to explain that her attire was undeniably alluring, and the effect it had on him could happen to any man. Besides, the thought of another man seeing her like this was unbearable. Her presence in that outfit was intoxicating, a sensation amplified by her anger.

He reached out, hoping to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Diana," he began, reaching for her hand, but Diana remained distant.

She pulled away, her voice sharp. "Don't, James".

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the clatter of cutlery as they finished their meal.

Diana's anger was palpable, yet she surprised him by adding more food to his plate. A small gesture that confused and surprised him. Maybe she wasn't as furious as he'd thought, or perhaps her anger was masked by a simmering disappointment. He knew better than to underestimate her temper; the woman was a whirlwind, unpredictable and captivating.

After dinner, the usual signal was given, and the maids appeared with practiced efficiency to clear the table.

Diana stood, pushing her chair back with a resolute click.

James watched as she ascended the stairs, her silence a storm cloud with his coat draped over her shoulders like a silent plea for reconciliation.

He followed, a knot of guilt tightening in his chest. As soon as they were alone in their room, he pulled her into his arms, seeking solace and forgiveness in her embrace.

She stiffened, pushing against his hold, but he persisted, his lips trailing kisses across her cheek and neck.

"Diana, please," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry" he mumbled, his lips tracing the curve of her cheek. "I love your style. Its what sets you apart from every other woman i know. Don't be angry anymore. I was just… worried and said what i did for your own good".

Diana pushed him back, her voice rising. "My own good?

James flinched, realizing he had said the wrong thing again. He hated how his well-intentioned words always morphed into something alienating.

James stammered, caught off guard. He'd never felt the need to justify himself like this. Was it always this exhausting?. "No, that's not what I meant! He exclaimed, frustration bubbling again. I just..."

"Just say it, James," Diana interrupted, her eyes flashing. "Stop tiptoeing around. I'm not a child."

The frustration bubbled over. "Fine! I worry about someone seeing you dressed like this. Do you even consider the consequences?" What if..."

"Are you implying I'd walk out in public dressed like this?" Diana cut him off, disbelief in her voice. Eyes flashing with defiance. "Is that really what you think of me?"

His shoulders slumped. He hadn't meant it like that, but his clumsy expression had backfired spectacularly. She was just taking his words out of context.

"No, Diana, that's not what I think," he stammered. "It's just… I worry about you. Maybe I'm over thinking things."

Silence descended once more, heavier this time.

CHAPTER 37: UNTITLED III