"You're dating WHO?" Harper's voice rose to a pitch that made nearby coffee shop patrons turn and stare. She lowered it to an intense whisper. "Caleb Blackwood? THE Caleb Blackwood? And you didn't tell me for THREE MONTHS?"

I winced, having anticipated this reaction. "I wanted to be sure it was serious before making a big deal about it."


"A big deal? Eve, this is astronomical. Galactic. Universe-altering." Harper leaned across our table at The Grind, her eyes wide. "How did this even happen? When? Where? I need every single detail, starting yesterday."

"She's been quite secretive about it," Caleb said, appearing beside our table with three drinks in hand. He set them down and slid into the booth next to me, his thigh pressing against mine in a way that felt both foreign and oddly comfortable. "I've been trying to convince her that hiding me away was unnecessary."

The ease with which he inserted himself into our conversation—into my life—was both impressive and unnerving. He looked different today, dressed in dark jeans and a henley rather than his usual business attire, more approachable but no less commanding.


Harper stared at him, momentarily speechless—a rare occurrence. "Well," she finally managed, "you're definitely real. I was half-convinced Eve was making you up."

"Very real," he confirmed, his arm sliding around my shoulders in a casual gesture that sent warmth spreading through me. "Though sometimes I wonder if she's the one who's too good to be true."


The line should have sounded cheesy, but something in his tone—a hint of genuine wonder—made it land as sincere. I found myself blushing despite knowing it was all for show.

"Okay, I need the story," Harper demanded, recovering her composure. "How did this happen?"

We delivered our rehearsed tale—meeting at the library, bonding over books, gradually spending more time together. Caleb added details I hadn't expected, like the title of the first book we'd supposedly discussed (Jane Eyre, which he'd noticed me reading at the coffee shop) and how he'd been drawn to the way I lost myself in stories.

"She gets this little crease between her eyebrows when she's deeply focused," he said, his finger gently touching the spot on my forehead. "Right here. I found it... captivating."

The intimate gesture and the warmth in his voice made my heart race. He was good at this—too good. If I didn't know better, I might have believed he was actually falling for me.

Harper watched us with narrowed eyes, her initial excitement giving way to careful assessment. "And you've been keeping this quiet because...?"

"My family situation is... complicated," Caleb explained. "I wanted to protect Eve from the scrutiny that comes with the Blackwood name."

"Uh-huh." Harper's tone was skeptical. "And it has nothing to do with your reputation as Ravenwood's most eligible bachelor? The guy who never dates anyone longer than a few weeks?"

I tensed, not having anticipated this line of questioning. We hadn't discussed Caleb's dating history in our preparation.

"Reputations are often exaggerated," Caleb said smoothly. "But yes, Eve is different from anyone I've been with before. She challenges me. Sees past the name and the expectations." His eyes met mine, intense and sincere. "She makes me want to be better."

The raw emotion in his voice caught me off guard. For a moment, I forgot we were performing, lost in the amber depths of his eyes and the possibility that some part of what he was saying might be true.

Harper cleared her throat, breaking the moment. "Well, you've certainly got the googly eyes down pat." She turned to me. "So this is why you've been AWOL lately? Shacking up with Tall, Dark, and Loaded here?"

"Harper!" I protested, genuinely embarrassed.

"I've been monopolizing her time," Caleb admitted, seeming unfazed by Harper's bluntness. "She's been helping me with a research project in the family archives. And..." He hesitated, a calculated vulnerability crossing his features. "I find I want her around as much as possible. It's selfish of me, I know."

Harper's expression softened slightly. "Well, at least you admit it." She took a sip of her latte, studying him over the rim. "So what are your intentions with my best friend, Mr. Blackwood?"

"Harper, seriously," I groaned. "This isn't the 1800s."

"Humor me," she insisted. "I've been protecting this girl since kindergarten when Tommy Wilson stole her lunch. I need to know you're not going to hurt her."

Caleb considered the question with a seriousness that surprised me. "I can't promise we'll never hurt each other," he said finally. "But I can promise that her wellbeing matters to me. That I respect her independence and her mind. And that I'm committed to whatever this becomes between us."

His answer was perfect—honest enough to be believable, vague enough to fit our temporary arrangement, but with enough genuine feeling to satisfy Harper's protective instincts.

"Hmm." Harper leaned back, apparently mollified for the moment. "I suppose that'll do. For now." She pointed a finger at him. "But if you break her heart, I know people who know people. Just saying."

Caleb's lips twitched. "Noted."

The conversation shifted to safer topics after that—classes, Harper's latest design project, campus gossip. To my surprise, Caleb integrated himself seamlessly, asking thoughtful questions and even making Harper laugh with unexpected dry humor. By the time Lucas joined us an hour later, the atmosphere was relaxed and natural.

"Sorry I'm late," Lucas said, sliding into the booth beside Harper. "Pack business ran long."

I felt Caleb tense beside me. "Company business," he corrected smoothly. "Lucas helps manage our corporate affairs."

"Right, company," Lucas agreed, shooting Caleb an apologetic glance. "The usual bureaucratic nightmares."

Harper didn't seem to notice the odd exchange, already launching into a story about her demanding design professor. I, however, filed away the slip—"pack business"—as another piece of the puzzle that was the Blackwood family.

As the afternoon wore on, I found myself relaxing into my role as Caleb's girlfriend. It was surprisingly easy to lean against him, to accept his casual touches, to share private smiles. The boundaries between pretense and reality began to blur, especially when he would look at me with that intense focus, as if I were the only person in the room.

"I should get going," Harper eventually said, gathering her things. "I have a project due tomorrow that's only half finished."

"I'll walk you out," Lucas offered immediately, his interest in Harper obvious to everyone except possibly Harper herself.

After they left, Caleb and I remained in the booth, his arm still around my shoulders, my body still angled toward his. Without an audience, we should have separated, returned to our professional distance. Neither of us moved.

"That went well," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "I think Harper's convinced."

"She was skeptical at first," Caleb observed. "She watches you carefully. Protectively."

"We've been through a lot together." I traced the rim of my empty cup. "She was there for me after my mom died. When I could barely function, she made sure I ate, did my homework, kept breathing."

Caleb's expression softened. "You're lucky to have that kind of loyalty."

"I know." I studied his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the subtle tension he always carried. "Do you have someone like that? Besides Lucas, I mean."

"Sophia," he said after a moment. "Though she shows her loyalty through brutal honesty rather than nurturing."

I smiled, having witnessed Sophia's unfiltered approach firsthand. "She loves you. It's obvious in how she challenges you."

"Yes." His expression turned thoughtful. "Our parents died when she was young. I've tried to be both brother and parent to her. Not always successfully."

"You were young too," I pointed out gently.

He shrugged. "Age isn't always the most relevant measure of readiness for responsibility."

There was a weight to his words that hinted at burdens I couldn't fully comprehend. Before I could ask more, my phone buzzed with a text from my father, asking when I'd be home for dinner.

"I should go," I said reluctantly. "Dad's waiting."

Caleb nodded, finally withdrawing his arm from around me. The loss of his warmth was more disappointing than it should have been.

"I'll walk you to your car," he said, standing and offering his hand.

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot. We walked in comfortable silence, his hand still holding mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At my car, I turned to face him. "Thank you for today. You were very convincing."

"So were you." His eyes searched mine. "Too convincing, perhaps."

"What do you mean?"

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. "This arrangement... it's becoming complicated."

My heart raced at his touch, at the intensity in his gaze. "How so?"

"You know how." His voice was low, almost a growl. "I find myself forgetting it's pretend."

The admission hung between us, dangerous and thrilling. I should have stepped back, reminded him of our contract, maintained the professional boundaries we'd established. Instead, I found myself swaying toward him, drawn by something I couldn't name.

"Caleb," I whispered, unsure if it was a question or a warning.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling. "Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me this is just business."

I couldn't. The words wouldn't come. All I could think about was how right it felt to be here with him, how much I wanted to close the remaining distance between us.

The moment shattered as a car horn blared nearby. We jumped apart, the spell broken. Reality came rushing back—this was a business arrangement, nothing more. Any feelings developing were dangerous complications that threatened the clean exit we'd planned.

"I should go," I said again, my voice unsteady.

Caleb stepped back, his expression closing off. "Of course. I'll call you tomorrow about the council meeting."

The sudden return to business was jarring but necessary. I nodded, fumbling for my keys, desperate to escape the confusing swirl of emotions.

As I drove away, I caught a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror, standing exactly where I'd left him, watching me go with an expression I couldn't decipher but that made my heart ache nonetheless.

What was happening to me? This was supposed to be simple—play a part, save the bookstore, walk away. Instead, I was developing real feelings for a man who saw me as a means to an end, a strategic alliance in his quest for power.

Worse, I was beginning to suspect there was far more to Caleb Blackwood and his family than I'd been told—secrets that might explain his interest in my mother's research, the strange terminology that kept slipping into conversation, the wild intensity I sometimes glimpsed beneath his controlled exterior.

I had a sinking feeling that by the time our three months were up, my heart wouldn't be the only casualty of this arrangement. Some secrets, once uncovered, change everything—and the Blackwoods were keeping secrets that seemed increasingly dangerous to know.