Chapter 2: The Pact

POV: Calista

"You want me to what?"

"Become my lover," Caspian repeated, calm as a man ordering coffee. "Not in truth. In performance."

I let out a breathless laugh. "You're insane."

"Probably." He did not smile. "But tell me you didn't feel something when you saw that photograph."

I had. It was still burning inside me.

"They're laughing at us right now," he said. "Lucian is in some hotel bed telling her how stupid you are."

"He's in Singapore."

"Is he?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I had not received a single photo from that trip. Not one call that lasted longer than a minute.

Caspian slid a final paper across the table. It was a flight record. Lucian's plane had landed in Singapore, sat on the ground for four hours, and turned straight around for home.

My husband had been twenty minutes from this house tonight while I folded his shirts.

"Stop," I whispered.

"I won't, because it's true."

"Why me? Why not a lawyer, a detective, anyone?"

"Lawyers give them a trial. I want to give them a nightmare." He paused. "And you're the only person in that family who ever saved me a seat at the table."

I blinked. I had forgotten that. At my first Thorne dinner, I had moved my chair so the quiet brother would not eat alone. Nobody else had noticed.

"Lucian would never suspect you," he went on. "You've been loyal for six years. If you suddenly glow for another man, it will destroy him."

"And Viv?"

A cold look crossed his face. "Viv has always believed no woman could look at me twice."

I thought about Viv teaching me which fork to use at Thorne dinners. At my wedding she had squeezed my hand and whispered, "Don't worry, Cal. Being the loyal wife is a talent." I had taken it as a compliment.

"Why wait three weeks?" I asked.

"I needed proof no one could argue with. And I needed to know you wouldn't run to Lucian the moment I left."

"Would I have?"

"Most people do."

"I'm not most people."

"No," he said softly. "I'm beginning to see that."

I twisted my wedding ring. "If we do this, people will talk."

"That is the point."

"What if they see through us?"

"They won't look for the truth. People never search for what they believe is impossible."

"And if Lucian finds out before we're ready?"

"Then we both lose everything." He paused. "I think we already did, tonight."

It was the cruelest, truest thing anyone had said to me all year. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, the woman who trusted Lucian Thorne was gone.

"Rules," I said.

Something like approval flickered across his face.

"One. No real feelings. This is a weapon, not a romance."

"Agreed."

"Two. Every move has a purpose, and nothing we do is something they can't later discover."

"Agreed. Three?"

"We tell no one. Not my friends, not your family."

"Three," he agreed. "And four."

"What's four?"

He leaned back. "Once we begin, there's no stopping. Not when it hurts. Not when they beg."

I thought of Viv's arms around me at my birthday dinner. "I won't stop."

He held out his hand. I hesitated, then took it. His palm was warm and steady, nothing like the careless grip of a failure.

"Pact sealed," he murmured.

I told myself the shiver was anger.

"Do you hate him?" I asked. "Your own brother?"

"I don't hate Lucian. Hatred would mean he still mattered to me."

That should have frightened me. Instead, it steadied me.

"What happens first?"

"Nothing yet. Lucian will come home tonight and claim he landed early. Act normal."

"And tomorrow?"

"Make him breakfast. Let him kiss you."

"I can't."

"You can. Every lie he tells you becomes a debt he pays later."

"And if I slip?"

"You won't. You've spent six years smiling while being overlooked. That's practice."

"That's not a compliment."

"It's the best one I have."

He told me Sunday was the family dinner at the Thorne estate, and that I should wear something Lucian had never seen. "Arrive alone. Then let them watch how I look at you."

"I'm a terrible actress," I warned.

"Then practice."

"On who?"

"On me."

He lifted two fingers beneath my chin, barely touching, and tilted my face toward his. "Look at me. Like I'm the only man who ever kept his promises."

I looked.

For three seconds the room narrowed to his dark eyes and the faint scent of rain on his coat. Then he let go.

"Better," he said, a little rougher than before. "Much better."

I stepped back and pretended my cheeks weren't warm. It was acting, I told myself. Rule one.

"What do you actually do for work?" I asked, to hide my confusion. "Viv says you're between jobs."

Something unreadable crossed his face. "I handle logistics. Quietly."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you get tonight. Ask me again after Sunday."

I followed him to the door. "Take an umbrella. It's pouring."

"I don't mind the rain." He paused with his hand on the knob. "Keep the ring on until Sunday. For now, it's your costume."

Then he was gone.

My phone buzzed on the sofa.

Landing early, my love. Can't wait to hold you. Don't wait up.

I read it three times. Then I typed "Miss you too" with a steady thumb and pressed send. It was my first lie to him. It would not be the last.

I drew back the curtain. Caspian was already walking down the empty street, shoulders soaked. At the end of the block, a long black car waited under the dying streetlight.

The driver stepped into the downpour and opened an enormous umbrella above Caspian's head. Then he bowed, deeply, the way people bow to someone who signs their paychecks.

"Forgive the delay, sir. They're waiting upstairs."

Caspian slid into the back seat without a word. The door shut softly, and the car disappeared into the dark.

"And the audit of Lucian Thorne's accounts," the driver added, to no one in particular, "is complete."

I stood there with my breath fogging the glass. The useless brother. The failure. The man Viv said she married out of pity.

Who was waiting upstairs? And what sort of audit could have anything to do with a man who "handles logistics"? I had a feeling I was about to find out, and I was not sure I wanted to.