The Blackwood estate was exactly as imposing as I'd imagined. Tall wrought-iron gates opened onto a winding driveway that cut through dense forest before revealing a sprawling stone mansion that looked like it belonged in a Gothic novel. Turrets, ivy-covered walls, massive oak doors—the whole dramatic package.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered to myself as I parked my ancient Honda next to a row of luxury vehicles that probably cost more than my entire college education.


I'd spent the previous night reading through Caleb's "arrangement" folder, expecting to find something sleazy or illegal. Instead, I'd found a meticulously detailed contract outlining exactly what would be expected of me as his pretend girlfriend. Public appearances at specific events. Attendance at family gatherings. Learning a basic background story. Nothing physical beyond hand-holding and the occasional chaste kiss for appearances.

In exchange, Mitchell's Books would have its debt cleared and rent reduced to a nominal amount for five years. The financial details made my head spin—it was enough to not just save the bookstore but potentially expand it.

It was too good to be true. Which meant there had to be a catch.


I was determined to find out what it was before signing anything.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and approached the front door. Before I could knock, it swung open, revealing a young woman with the same striking amber eyes as Caleb, though her hair was a rich chestnut brown rather than black.


"You must be Eve," she said, looking me up and down with undisguised curiosity. "I'm Sophia. Caleb's sister and your new fake girlfriend's sister, apparently." She grinned, revealing perfect white teeth. "Come in. The interrogation chamber is ready."

"Interrogation chamber?" I hesitated at the threshold.

She laughed. "Relax. It's just our study. Though Caleb has been pacing in there for the last hour, which is hilarious because I've never seen him nervous about anything."

I followed her into a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase and more dark wood than seemed practical. The place smelled of pine and something else—a wild, earthy scent I couldn't quite place.

"So," Sophia said as she led me down a hallway lined with portraits of stern-looking ancestors, "what did my brother do to convince you to participate in this charade? He wouldn't tell me."

"He made a business proposition," I said carefully. "One that benefits my family."

She shot me a knowing look over her shoulder. "Ah, the bookstore. I should have guessed." She stopped outside a heavy wooden door. "Just so you know, I think this whole fake relationship thing is ridiculous. But if it keeps Uncle Marcus off Caleb's back for a while, I'm all for it."

Before I could ask what she meant, she pushed open the door and announced, "Your pretend girlfriend is here, brother dear. Try not to scare this one off."

The study was a beautiful room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather furniture, and a massive stone fireplace. Caleb stood by the window, his powerful frame silhouetted against the fading evening light. He turned as we entered, and I was struck again by how his presence seemed to fill the space, making everything else recede into the background.

"Eve," he said, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Thank you for coming."

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," I reminded him, clutching my bag like a shield.

"Of course." He gestured to one of the leather armchairs. "Please, sit. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you." I sat down, keeping my back straight. "I have questions before we go any further."

"I expected nothing less." He took the chair across from me while Sophia sprawled on a nearby sofa, clearly intending to stay for the show.

"First," I began, "why the pretense? Why not just date someone for real?"

Caleb's expression remained impassive. "My position in the family comes with... expectations. I need to appear settled to certain parties, but I have no interest in an actual relationship at this time."

"That's not the whole truth," I challenged. "Your contract mentions specific events, specific people who need to believe we're together. This isn't just about appearing 'settled.'"

A flicker of approval crossed his face. "You read it thoroughly. Good." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "My uncle Marcus believes I'm too focused on business to lead the family. He's using my lack of personal attachments as an excuse to delay my ascension to... the company presidency."

Something about the way he hesitated made me think he was choosing his words carefully.

"So I'm a prop in your power struggle," I summarized. "A way to prove you're well-rounded enough to take over the family business."

"Crudely put, but essentially correct." He didn't seem offended by my bluntness. "Marcus has been pushing me to consider an arrangement with Vivian Winters, whose family has... compatible interests with ours. I have no intention of being forced into that situation."

"So I'm also a shield against an unwanted arranged marriage? What century is this?"

Sophia snorted from her sofa. "Welcome to the archaic world of old money families, Eve. Where bloodlines and alliances still matter more than personal happiness."

Caleb shot her a warning look before turning back to me. "It's more complicated than that. But yes, your presence would help deflect certain pressures."

I tapped my fingers against the arm of my chair, thinking. "The contract mentions I'd need to attend events, learn about your family history, basically play a part. What happens if I mess up? If someone realizes it's fake?"

"They won't," Caleb said with absolute certainty. "I've considered every angle. We'll have time to prepare before any major events. And the first few weeks, we'll be seen together in public places, establishing the relationship gradually."

"What about my life? My classes, my job at the library, my friends?"

"Those continue as normal. I'd only need you for specific occasions, most of which would be evenings or weekends." He paused. "Though you would need to be available for the Blackwood Midsummer Gala in three weeks. It's our largest social event of the year."

I frowned. "That's when I usually help my dad with the bookstore's inventory."

"I've already spoken with your father."

My head snapped up. "You what?"

"I visited Mitchell's Books this morning. I explained that I was offering you a part-time position as a research assistant for the Blackwood family archives. He seemed quite pleased about the opportunity."

I stared at him, speechless with indignation. "You went behind my back to my father before I even agreed to this?"

"I needed to ensure there would be no obstacles if you accepted." He said it so reasonably, as if it was perfectly normal to manipulate people's lives like chess pieces.

"That's—that's not okay," I sputtered. "You can't just rearrange my life without my consent."

"You're right." To my surprise, he actually looked contrite. "It was presumptuous. I apologize."

His apology caught me off guard. I'd expected defensiveness or dismissal, not acknowledgment of his overreach.

Sophia was watching our exchange with undisguised interest. "Well, this is refreshing," she commented. "Someone actually standing up to my brother."

I ignored her, focusing on Caleb. "If—and it's still a big if—I agree to this arrangement, we need to establish some ground rules beyond what's in your contract."

"Such as?" His expression was unreadable.

"No more going behind my back. No making decisions about my life without consulting me first. And I want to know the real reason for all of this." I met his gaze steadily. "Not the sanitized version you think I'll accept."

Something shifted in those amber eyes—respect, perhaps, or wariness. "Some details are... family matters. Private."

"If I'm going to be your fake girlfriend, I need to know what I'm walking into. The whole truth, or no deal."

A tense silence fell over the room. Caleb and Sophia exchanged a look that seemed to contain an entire conversation. Finally, Caleb nodded.

"Very well." He stood up and moved to the fireplace, his back to me. "Our family has... traditions. Leadership passes to the next generation when the current leader either steps down or is challenged successfully. My uncle has been leading since my father's death ten years ago, but it was always understood to be temporary, until I was ready."

"And now you're ready, but he doesn't want to give up power," I surmised.

"Precisely." Caleb turned back to face me. "According to our traditions, an Alpha—" He stopped abruptly, correcting himself. "A leader must demonstrate certain qualities. Strength. Strategic thinking. And the ability to form strong bonds, to put family first."

"And a girlfriend proves that how?"

"In our world, choosing a mate—a partner—is the first step toward establishing your own family line. It shows commitment to the future." His voice had taken on a formal quality, as if reciting something learned long ago. "Without that, I'm still seen as too independent, too lone wolf."

The phrase struck me as odd. "Lone wolf?"

Sophia made a small noise that might have been a suppressed laugh. Caleb shot her another warning look.

"It's just an expression," he said smoothly. "The point is, I need to show I'm capable of maintaining a relationship, of putting someone else's needs alongside my own. Otherwise, Marcus will continue to use my single status as evidence that I'm not ready to lead."

It still felt like I was missing something crucial, but his explanation made a certain kind of sense. Family businesses could be strange, with their own rules and traditions.

"And what happens at the end of our 'relationship'?" I asked. "Won't you be back where you started when we 'break up'?"

"By then, I'll have secured my position," he said confidently. "We'll part ways amicably, citing your studies or career aspirations as the reason. No drama, no setbacks."

I considered everything he'd said, weighing the risks against the potential benefits for my family. The bookstore wasn't just a business to us—it was my mother's legacy, the place where I'd grown up surrounded by stories and possibilities. Losing it would break my father's heart.

"If I agree," I said slowly, "I want an additional clause in the contract. If at any point I feel uncomfortable or want to end the arrangement, I can walk away—and the bookstore still gets the financial benefits we agreed upon."

Caleb's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's not how business deals typically work."

"This isn't typical," I countered. "You're asking me to lie to everyone I know, including my father. To pretend to have feelings for you. To enter your world and play by your rules. That deserves some insurance."

He studied me for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. "You're more shrewd than you appear, Eve Mitchell."

"I'm my mother's daughter," I said simply. "She taught me never to enter an agreement where I couldn't see the exit."

Something like pain flashed across his face so quickly I might have imagined it. "Your mother was a wise woman."

"She was." I didn't elaborate on the past tense. My mother's death when I was twelve wasn't something I discussed with strangers, even ones proposing bizarre fake relationship contracts.

Caleb seemed to sense my reluctance to continue that line of conversation. "I'll add your clause," he agreed. "With one condition of my own: you must give me two weeks' notice before ending the arrangement, and you cannot reveal the true nature of our relationship to anyone, ever."

"Deal." I extended my hand, feeling like I was making a pact with some mythical being who might grant my wish but at an unknown price.

He took my hand, his much larger one enveloping mine completely. That same jolt I'd felt in the library passed between us, stronger this time—a current of awareness that made my breath catch. His eyes darkened slightly, pupils expanding, and for a moment I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold around the edges of his irises.

"Well, this should be interesting," Sophia commented, breaking the strange tension. "The lone wolf and the bookworm. What could possibly go wrong?"

What indeed, I thought as Caleb released my hand. I had the distinct feeling I'd just stepped off a cliff, with no idea how far I had to fall—or what was waiting at the bottom.