004

Chapter 4

“Yes.”

The word left my mouth before I could talk myself out of it.

Jeremy’s expression didn’t change much—no triumphant smile, no softening of those dark eyes—but something in the air between us shifted. He nodded once, as if sealing a contract, then stood.

“Good. Get dressed. We have things to settle before the day gets away from us.”

He left the bedroom without another word. I sat there for a full minute, sheet still clutched to my chest, staring at the closed door. My heart was beating too fast. The rational part of my brain kept listing every reason this was reckless. The rest of me—the part that still tasted last night’s betrayal—felt strangely steady.

I found my clothes folded on a chair near the window, along with a clean black T-shirt that clearly belonged to him. I pulled it on. It hung past my hips and smelled faintly of the same soap he’d used earlier. I didn’t let myself think about that too hard.

When I stepped into the living room, Jeremy was at the kitchen island with two mugs of fresh coffee and a legal pad. He slid one mug toward me without looking up.

“Rules,” he said. “We’ll keep them simple.”

I sat across from him. “Go ahead.”

“Public appearances only when necessary. Games, charity events, the occasional dinner where cameras will be present. We hold hands. We look comfortable. We don’t overdo the affection unless the situation calls for it.” He wrote as he spoke, neat, precise handwriting. “No overnight stays unless the story requires it. No checking each other’s phones. No questions about what we do when we’re not together.”

“And sex?” I asked, because the silence after that sentence felt too loud.

His pen paused. He looked up. “Optional. Never expected. If it happens, it doesn’t change the terms.”

I nodded, ignoring the low heat that still lingered under my skin from the night before. “What about my job?”

“You keep working. I’ll make sure no one interferes. If anyone from either pack tries to pressure you, you tell me.”

“And Chris?”

Jeremy’s eyes cooled. “You don’t speak to him alone. If he approaches you, you walk away or you call me. Same goes for Kelani.”

I wrapped both hands around the mug. “What do we tell people about how this started?”

“The truth, mostly. You found out about the pregnancy. You left. We ran into each other. Things progressed faster than expected.” He set the pen down. “People love a rebound story. Especially when it involves the rival alpha.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

We spent the next hour refining the details. Public first appearance would be the charity gala in three days—high-profile, cameras everywhere, both teams expected to attend. Until then we would stay quiet. No social media posts. No late-night texts that could be screenshotted. If anyone asked, we were “seeing where things go.”

When the list was finished, Jeremy tore the page free and handed it to me. “Read it over. Sign if you’re still in.”

I signed. My full name, steady handwriting that didn’t match the way my pulse was racing.

He took the paper, folded it once, and slid it into a drawer. Then he checked his watch.

“I have practice in forty minutes. You can stay here as long as you need, or I can drive you home.”

“Home,” I said. The apartment still smelled like Chris and the life I’d lost. I needed to face it.

Jeremy drove in silence. His black SUV smelled like leather and the same faint rose scent that had been on the sheets. I watched the city pass and tried not to think about the mark on my neck that still throbbed faintly whenever he was near.

He pulled up in front of my building and didn’t turn off the engine.

“Three days,” he said. “I’ll send a car at six. Wear something that photographs well.”

I reached for the door handle, then paused. “Jeremy.”

He looked at me.

“If this stops being about revenge for either of us, we end it. Immediately.”

“Agreed.”

I stepped out. The morning air was cool against my face. I didn’t look back as his car pulled away.

The apartment was exactly as I’d left it the night before—half-empty bottle of tequila on the counter, my phone dead on the couch, the faint scent of Chris’s cologne still clinging to the hallway. I charged the phone and forced myself to shower, scrubbing until my skin felt almost new. When I finally checked my messages, there were forty-seven of them.

Chris. Kelani. Teammates. Friends who had suddenly remembered I existed. A few reporters already sniffing around the rumor that something had happened at the Blackwood house.

I deleted Chris’s messages without reading them. Kelani’s I opened only long enough to see the first line—*We need to talk*—before deleting that too.

The rest of the day I spent packing. Not everything. Just the things that felt like mine: clothes, books, the small box of photographs that didn’t include him. By evening the apartment felt lighter. I ordered takeout, ate standing at the counter, and went to bed early in the guest room because the master bed still smelled like the life I no longer wanted.

Three days later the car arrived exactly at six.

The dress Jeremy had sent over was deep emerald, simple, expensive. It fit like it had been made for me. I did my own makeup, pinned my hair back, and slipped on the heels that made me almost as tall as him. When I stepped outside, the driver opened the door without a word.

Jeremy was waiting in the back seat, black suit, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone. He looked at me once, thoroughly, then nodded.

“Perfect.”

The gala was held in a glass-walled venue overlooking the river. Cameras lined the entrance. The moment we stepped out together, hands linked, the flashes started. Jeremy’s fingers tightened around mine—not possessive, just steady. He leaned in slightly as we walked the carpet, close enough that his voice was only for me.

“Smile like you mean it.”

I did.

Inside, the room was already full of players, owners, sponsors, and the usual pack politics dressed up in formal wear. I felt eyes on us immediately. Chris stood near the bar with Kelani’s hand on his arm. Her stomach was just beginning to show under the soft drape of her dress. When he saw us, his expression locked somewhere between shock and fury.

Jeremy guided me through the crowd with practiced ease, introducing me as if we’d been together for months instead of days. He never left my side. When someone asked how long we’d been seeing each other, he answered smoothly, “Not long enough.” When a reporter tried to dig, he shut it down with a polite smile that somehow still managed to feel dangerous.

Halfway through the evening, Chris finally approached.

He stopped a few feet away, eyes locked on the place where Jeremy’s hand rested at the small of my back.

“Siena.”

I looked at him. Really looked. The man who had marked me, claimed me, and then thrown me away like an inconvenience. He looked smaller somehow.

Jeremy’s voice was calm. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

Chris ignored him. “We need to talk. Privately.”

“No,” I said.

The single word landed harder than I expected. His jaw tightened.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Jeremy stepped slightly in front of me, not aggressive, just present. “She’s not. Now walk away before you make this worse for yourself.”

Chris’s eyes flicked to the cameras still circling the room, then back to me. For a second I thought he might push. Then Kelani appeared at his elbow, murmuring something low, and he let himself be steered away.

Jeremy’s hand stayed at my back until they disappeared into the crowd.

“You all right?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

And for the first time since the towel had dropped two nights ago, I almost believed it.

We stayed another hour. We danced once—slow, formal, his hand warm against my waist, my cheek nearly resting against his shoulder. We left before the speeches started. In the car he didn’t speak until the venue lights were far behind us.

“First night done,” he said. “They already hate it.”

I looked out the window at the dark river. “Good.”

He didn’t take me home. He took me back to his place, poured two glasses of water, and set one in front of me on the kitchen island.

“You can stay if you want. Guest room’s ready. Or the car can take you back.”

I studied him for a long moment. The man who had offered me a blade and then stood beside me while I used it. No soft promises. No false comfort. Just the clean, sharp edges of a deal we both intended to keep.

“Guest room,” I said.

He nodded, walked me down the hall, and left me at the door without touching me again.

I closed it behind me, leaned against the wood, and exhaled.

Ten months.

I could do this.

I had to.