Chapter 1

Lyra's POV

{•FIVE YEARS EARLIER•}

I should have known better than to fall in love with a contract.

But Cassian Rourke had never been just ink on paper to me.

Not when I was fifteen and he explained calculus to me during recess, not when I was twenty and he offered me money for my father's medical bills in exchange for a marriage of convenience, and certainly not on the day I signed my name next to his and told myself that maybe, eventually, proximity could turn this agreement into something real.

But it's been five years now. And we lived more like roommates than two people who wore matching rings.

My eyes drifted to my reflection staring back at me from the blurry mirror.

Tonight, I planned to make Cassian see me as more than a contractual bride.

He answered on the forth ring, his voice a little groggy.

"Lyra. Hey."

There were audible keyboard clicks in the background.

"How would you feel about having dinner with me tonight? I made your favourite."

He chuckled into the phone and I felt my fingers trail to my cleavage for a split second before I snapped out of it.

"You made lamb? You should rest more."

"Herb-crusted, with roasted potatoes and sweetened carrots."

"Fuck. You are really spoiling me."

A grin stretched my lips. I couldn't help it.

I couldn't help feeling...this.

"Give me thirty minutes. I'll be there."

Thirty minutes. I could work with that.

"Perfect. See you soon."

"Lyra?" He caught me before I could hang up. "Thank you. For this. I know I haven't been around much."

"It's our anniversary, Cass. Seemed like a good reason to make an effort."

"Right. Five years." He said it like he was noting a project milestone. "I'll be there soon."

The line went dead.

I set my phone down.

Tonight I'd finally say the words I had been rehearsing for months.

________

The door unlocked at seven forty-five.

I turned toward the hallway, adjusting the red see-through dress that I had worn.

My mistake.

Cassian stood in the doorway, loosening his tie. Behind him, people in business attire streamed into our apartment. Five, ten, fifteen... I lost count.

My eyes widened the moment their eyes all met mine. A loud alarm went off in my head and my knees went weak, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the ground while burning with embarrassment.

"C-Cassian..."

A jacket was draped over me in a second.

"What...why are you—"

I hastily wrapped the blanket around myself, holding the tears from spilling forward.

"I didn't... Why are your work associates here?"

He lifted a finger and they all trooped out the same way they trooped in.

"It was urgent stuff, too private for the office. But it can wait."

You can do this Lyra. Grow out some balls for once.

When I lifted my eyes and saw that it was just us, alone, I made my move.

I pulled Cassian to the ground and straddled him. His blue eyes were magnetic, and a heat far too raw to resist was already crawling through my veins.

"That night... last week."

He sat up, making me slide down to his thighs instead.

"Was something unexpected. And I assure that it won't happ—"

I wanted to shush him. To cut him off with a kiss, to tell him how I only pretended to be drunk alongside him simply so that he could finally touch me in ways I had daydreamed about since I was fifteen.

But the words died in my throat when I saw his expression.

He looked... uncomfortable. Just deeply, profoundly uncomfortable.

"Lyra." His hands came to my waist, not to pull me closer, but to gently, firmly lift me off his lap. "We need to talk."

He stood, putting distance between us, and ran a hand through his dark hair. His jacket slipped from my shoulders, pooling around me like a puddle of failure.

"Last week was a mistake," he murmured. "We both had too much to drink at the gala. I shouldn't have... we shouldn't have—"

"But we did." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "And I thought maybe... maybe it meant—"

He turned to face me, and his slate-blue eyes were kind. So unbearably kind.

"Lyra, you are important to me. This arrangement works because we have boundaries."

"What if I don't want boundaries anymore?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "What if I want this to be real? What if I—"

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, there was something almost sad in his expression.

"Please don't say it. You deserve better than this."

"Better than what? Better than you?"

"Better than a marriage that was never supposed to be about love." He moved closer, crouching down to my level where I still sat on the floor. "Lyra, you were twenty years old when we made this agreement. Your father needed surgery, and I needed…"

"A wife on paper. I know." I pulled his jacket tighter around myself. "But it's been five years, Cass. Five years of living together, of—"

"Of being roommates," he finished gently. "Good roommates. Friends, even. But that is all this was ever meant to be."

I swallowed…it felt like there was a painful lump somewhere in my throat.

"That night…"

"Was a mistake I take full responsibility for. I had too much to drink, and I crossed a line I shouldn't have. I'm sorry for that. Truly."

The apology hurt worse than anger would have.

"So what now? We just... pretend that it never happened?"

Because I wasn't sure I could forget.

"We remember why we are here." He sat back on his heels, maintaining a careful distance. "The agreement was clear from the start. This marriage is an open marriage, so that way you are free to source and find the true person meant for you."

"What if I don't want someone else?" I clutched at his collar, desperate. "What if I only want…you."

"Lyra." He said my name like a warning, like a plea. "You are twenty-five years old. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it waiting for something I can't give you."

"Can't? Or won't?"

He stood up, creating more distance between us.

"Does it matter?"

It did. It mattered so much I could barely breathe.

"Have you?" I really needed to know. "Found someone, I mean."

He went very still.

"Cass? Have you been seeing someone?"

He turned to face me fully, and there was something in his expression, regret, maybe, or resignation.

"Yes, Lyra." He avoided my eyes. "I have."

My hand instinctively went to my stomach, while my eyes drifted to the positive pregnancy test that sat beside the vase on the table.