Beverly's POV

Bruce dropped my hand like it burned him. We sat in the car staring at each other, neither speaking. My wolf was howling with joy while I was internally screaming.

"You knew," I accused. "That's why you stopped. You knew I was your mate."

"I suspected when I saw you," he admitted. "I knew when you got in the car."

"And you didn't think to mention this?"

"Would you have gotten in if I had?"

He had a point. I would have run in the opposite direction. Fate had a sick sense of humor. In one day, I'd lost a fake relationship and gained a mate I didn't want.

"This doesn't change anything," I said firmly. "The deal stands as is. Two months, then we're done."

"Beverly..."

"No. I just found out my boyfriend of two years was cheating on me. I'm not jumping into some cosmic bond with a stranger. Business only."

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Business only."

We took a private elevator to the penthouse. When the doors opened, my jaw dropped. The place was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city. Everything was modern, sleek, and probably worth more than I'd make in ten lifetimes.

"Your room is this way," Bruce said, leading me down a hallway. He opened a door to reveal a bedroom bigger than my old apartment. "There are clothes in the closet. They should fit."

"You just have random women's clothes lying around?"

"I had my assistant buy them while we were driving."

"In thirty minutes?"

"Money talks." He checked his watch. "I have a meeting. Make yourself at home. We'll discuss details when I get back."

"Wait, I need to call my mom."

"Use the landline. They can't trace it as easily."

"Why would anyone trace..." I stopped. "How famous are you exactly?"

"Famous enough that our marriage will make headlines. You should prepare for that."

He left before I could respond. I sat on the bed, still in my ruined wedding dress, trying to process the last hour. This morning I was marrying Marcus. Now I was in a penthouse with my mate who I was fake marrying.

No, not fake marrying. Real marrying. Just temporarily.

I called Mom.

"Beverly! Where are you? Marcus is here going crazy. He says you attacked him!"

"I didn't attack anyone, Mom. I caught him cheating."

Silence. Then, "What?"

I explained everything. Well, not everything. I left out the part about Bruce being my mate.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. But what about the money? The venue, the catering, the flowers..."

"I'll handle it, Mom. I got a job. A really good job. I'll pay you back every penny."

"What job? Where are you staying?"

"I'll explain later. I have to go."

"Beverly, wait—"

I hung up. The guilt was crushing, but I couldn't face her questions yet.

A knock at the door interrupted my spiral. A woman entered, tall and elegant with silver hair pulled into a perfect bun.

"Miss Stevens? I'm Margaret, Mr. Leonard's house manager. I've drawn you a bath and laid out fresh clothes."

"Thank you."

She looked at my wedding dress with sympathy. "Shall I dispose of this?"

"Burn it."

She smiled. "With pleasure."

The bath was heaven. Expensive bubbles that smelled like vanilla and jasmine. When I finally emerged, there were clothes on the bed. Designer jeans and a cashmere sweater. They fit perfectly, which was creepy but convenient.

I explored the penthouse while Bruce was gone. The kitchen was bigger than most restaurants. There was a gym, a library, an office, and a room that was locked. I tried not to wonder what was behind that door.

I was standing at the windows, watching the sun set over the city, when Bruce returned.

"Hungry?" he asked.

My stomach growled in response. I hadn't eaten all day.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He cooked. The billionaire CEO cooked dinner himself. Pasta with some fancy sauce I couldn't pronounce.

"We need to discuss our story," he said over dinner. "People will ask how we met."

"Coffee shop?" I suggested.

"Too ordinary. We met at a charity gala six months ago. You were there with a friend. We talked all night."

"And we kept it secret because?"

"I'm private about my personal life. Plus you were with Marcus then. We reconnected recently after your breakup."

"Which was when?"

"Two weeks ago. We'll say you caught him cheating then. Today was supposed to be a small ceremony with just family, but you realized you couldn't go through with it."

"You've thought about this."

"I think about everything." He took a sip of wine. "Tomorrow we get married for real."

I choked on my pasta. "Tomorrow?"

"My grandfather is getting worse. We can't wait."

"But... don't we need blood tests and witnesses and—"

"Money talks, remember? It'll be a simple courthouse ceremony. My lawyer and assistant will witness."

"This is insane."

"You agreed to this."

"I agreed to pretend to be married. Not to actually marry you."

"It has to be legal or my grandfather will know. Don't worry, the divorce will be just as quick."

I pushed my food around my plate. This was moving too fast. This morning I was Beverly Stevens, boring accountant. Tomorrow I'd be Beverly Leonard, wife of a billionaire.

"What about the mate bond?" I asked quietly.

"What about it?"

"Won't it get stronger if we're actually married?"

"It's just paperwork. The bond only strengthens through..." he paused, "...physical intimacy. Which we won't have."

"And you're okay with that? Ignoring your mate bond?"

"I've ignored it for years. I can handle two more months."

"Years? You've known for years?"

He stood abruptly. "I misspoke. I meant I've ignored the concept of mates for years."

He was lying. I could feel it through the bond that was already forming despite our best efforts.

"Bruce—"

"Your phone's been buzzing."

I looked at my phone. Fifteen missed calls from Marcus. Three from numbers I didn't recognize. And one text from an unknown number:

*You made a mistake walking away. You have no idea who you're dealing with.*

"Marcus?" Bruce asked, reading over my shoulder.

"Probably."

Bruce took my phone and did something to it. "There. He's blocked. If he continues to harass you, I'll handle it."

"I can handle my own problems."

"You're going to be my wife. Your problems are my problems now."

The possessiveness in his voice made my wolf purr. Traitor.

"I should go to bed," I said. "Big day tomorrow, apparently."

"Beverly." He caught my arm as I passed. The touch sent sparks through both of us. "I know this isn't ideal. But I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

"It's just business," I reminded him.

"Right. Just business."

But the way he looked at me said otherwise. And the way my heart raced said I was in big trouble.