The Billionaire Undercover Wife

The scent of warm bread and melting chocolate curled through the air, thick and comforting. The quiet hum of the oven, the faint hiss of the espresso machine—it all blended into a rhythmic background, lulling customers into soft murmurs and content sighs.

Eric Bleu barely noticed.

His sharp gaze swept across the bakery, not in appreciation of its cozy charm, but with the focus of a man on a mission.

He needed someone to play Harley’s mother.

And fast.

Not just for the kindergarten event—though that was the immediate problem. No, this was about something deeper. Harley had never voiced it before, but he saw it now, written in the way she held herself, the quiet longing in her gaze when she saw other children with their mothers.

She was too much like him. Too strong for her own good.

And that terrified him.

“Papa, I want that one.”

Eric followed her gaze.

His body tensed.

The woman behind the counter moved with quiet efficiency, fingers working swiftly as she sealed a bag of cookies. A loose strand of dark hair had slipped from her messy bun, brushing against her cheek. The soft glow of the oven light cast subtle shadows along the delicate curve of her neck.

Simple. Unassuming.

But his wolf stirred.

A deep, instinctive pull that made his muscles coil.

Unacceptable.

Suppressing the feeling, he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the warm air like a blade.

“You.”

The woman—Annie Macaulay—froze.

Her head lifted, brown eyes locking onto his with the sharpness of someone who wasn’t used to being ordered around.

Good.

He didn’t want a pushover.

“…Excuse me?”

“I said, quit.” His voice remained steady, cool. “Just for a day. Ten thousand dollars.”

A pause.

Then—a laugh.

Short. Disbelieving.

“You’re joking, right?”

He wasn’t.

Harley clung to his pant leg, her fingers tightening slightly. She wasn’t used to asking for things. She never whined, never cried. She was like him—too self-sufficient for a child her age.

“My kindergarten has a family day,” she said softly. “Other kids have a mommy. I don’t.”

Annie stilled.

Her grip on the cookie bag tightened, crinkling the plastic.

It wasn’t her problem.

The tall handsome man in his fitted navy blue suit stared at me with his golden eyes. A pull she could feel it. A dangerous string.

And yet, something about the little girl’s voice—so careful, so measured—unsettled her.

She didn’t want to care.

But she did.

Still— He can't just walk in here and command her. Whoever they are.

“You don’t even know me,” she said, forcing her voice to remain flat.

Eric studied her, eyes dark and unreadable.

“I know you well enough.”

And that was a problem.

She wasn’t his type. He preferred women who understood the rules—glamorous, confident, unattached.

Annie was none of those things.

And yet, standing this close, he found himself noticing too much. The delicate curve of her collarbone beneath the loose fabric of her uniform. The way her lips parted slightly, like she was already preparing to argue.

He exhaled slowly. Focus.

This wasn’t about attraction. It was about Harley.

Annie crossed her arms. Defensive.

“Really?” she challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m saying no.”

Eric ’s jaw tightened.

She was testing him now.

Deliberately.

And he… liked it.

A dangerous thought.

His wolf stirred again, restless.

“I’ll double it.”

Annie's breath hitched.

Not because of the money—she didn’t need it.

But because of the way he said it.

Low. Unshakable.

Like he already knew she was considering it.

And that irritated her.

But the truth was, she was hesitating.

Jaime.

Her brother had been relentless about her lack of a boyfriend. She had let one lie slip, just to shut him up, and now he was insisting on proof. If she didn’t show up with someone soon, he’d start digging.

And if Jaime started digging…

She clenched her jaw.

This could solve two problems at once.

But still—

Her throat felt dry.

The air between them shifted.

Heat.

A slow, steady warmth spread through her, coiling low in her stomach. His scent—rich, clean, with an edge of something darker—wrapped around her senses. She shouldn’t have noticed it.

But she did.

And it got to her.

She swallowed hard.

Eric leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower.

“Think about it,” he murmured.

His breath was warm against her ear.

Her pulse stuttered.

Annie cleared her throat and turned slightly, breaking whatever tension had started to build. She grabbed the sealed bag of cookies, intending to hand them over quickly.

But when Eric reached for it—

Their fingers brushed.

A whisper of contact.

A brief, fleeting touch, but it sent a slow, electric thrill up her arm.

Her body reacted before she could stop it—heat curling along her spine, breath hitching.

Too much. Way too much.

She let go immediately, stepping back as if burned.

Eric smirked.

He took his time, handing the cookies to Harley, but his attention never left Annie.

“Careful,” he said, voice slow, teasing. “You look like you might actually be considering it.”

Annie narrowed her eyes. Bastard.

She should walk away.

Right now.

Instead, she held his gaze.

Let the silence stretch, let the air thicken.

Then, deliberately, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear—slowly.

If he wanted to play this game, fine.

Two could play.

“What makes you so sure I won’t change my mind?” she murmured.

His gaze darkened.

Oh, he liked that.

He liked that too much.

Annie could feel it—the shift, the quiet challenge between them. A dangerous, unspoken understanding.

“You won’t,” he said smoothly.

And somehow, she knew—he was right.

Damn it.