The room was quiet, save for the sound of tearing paper echoing in Marissa's mind. The divorce contract was gone, shredded into confetti on the floor. Derek's eyes were full of a possessive warmth that made Marissa's heart flutter.
But Marissa couldn't help but tease him.
She scratched behind her ear, a habit she had when she was thinking mischievously. She looked up at the ceiling, then tilted her head to look at him through her lashes.
"That was very dramatic, Derek," she said softly. "But..."
She paused for effect.
"But what?" Derek asked, leaning closer.
"But I still have my own copy," Marissa whispered. "It is hidden very well. You can tear yours up, but the agreement still exists in ink."
Derek's eyes narrowed. The soft, loving expression shifted into a playful, dangerous glint.
"Say that again," Derek warned. His voice was a low rumble in his chest.
Marissa pretended not to hear him. She hummed a little tune, looking away toward the window, feigning innocence.
