The Billionaire Undercover Wife

The bakery stil smelled like warm sugar and cinnamon, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread. Annie still stood behind the counter, arms folded, her lips pressed into a tight line. Across from her, Eric Bleu remained still, his presence impossible to ignore. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his chiseled face, but his eyes—intense and unwavering—never left hers. He didn't care if he was holding up the line of customers behind him. Eric Bleu isn't someone to give up easily. He steady his feet while maintaining eye contact with his prey. Harley, oblivious to the tension between them, sat on the counter with her small feet swinging, completely absorbed in the bag of cookies Yumi had given her. She hummed softly as she took another bite, crumbs dusting her tiny fingers. Annie exhaled slowly. This is insane. But she had already made up her mind. “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice steady. “But I have rules.” Eric raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Rules?”

The kindergarten parking lot buzzed with activity. Luxury cars gleamed under the sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the swarm of well-dressed parents making their way inside. But none commanded attention like Eric Bleu and Annie Macaulay. Eric exuded effortless power in a tailored black suit, his broad shoulders cutting a commanding figure. His sharp golden eyes scanned the area, instinctively assessing threats. But the real distraction wasn’t potential danger. It was her. Annie stepped out of the car in a scarlet dress that hugged her curves like a second skin. The deep neckline barely contained the soft swell of her breasts, and when she moved, the slit in her dress gave a sinful glimpse of toned thighs. A low growl rumbled in Eric's chest before he could stop it. His wolf stirred. Mine. Eric forced his jaw to unclench. No. Not mine. Harley tugged at Annie's hand excitedly. “Come on, Mommy! We gotta go!” Mommy. Annie felt a pang in her chest. She wasn’t used to that

Rain slicked the roads leading out of the Stonehenge Pack, soft drizzles tapering into mist as evening sank its teeth into the land. Inside the dim-lit office of the makeshift CIA outpost, Jaime Macaulay sat hunched over an old dossier, a half-drunk cup of coffee cooling beside his elbow. The window beside him was cracked open, letting in the scent of wet earth and pine needles. It was the kind of stillness that bred focus. And obsession. The file in front of him bore a single name: Lady Lilly. He rubbed his temples, staring at the black-and-white photo clipped to the corner. Grainy, almost useless, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. A shadow frozen mid-leap. Legs extended. Knife in hand. The only picture that had ever surfaced, snapped from a hidden surveillance cam fourteen years ago during her first known appearance. "A teenager," Jaime muttered under his breath, the words bitter in his mouth. The informant's voice echoed in his mind, calm but convinced. “She wasn’t an adult.

The house was too quiet.Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft amber glow over the landscape. A faint breeze slipped through the open windows of Eric's estate, carrying the scent of night jasmine and pine, but Annie barely noticed. She stood at the kitchen sink, staring out over the yard where Harley's toys were still scattered from earlier that afternoon. Her fingers were damp with soapy water, but her mind wasn't on the dishes.Her heartbeat had yet to settle. Hours had passed since she'd slipped into Eric's dungeon and erased the man who had dared to threaten Harley. The scent of blood still lingered in her mind. She’d cleaned herself thoroughly, masked every trace, but her wolf remained restless, pacing behind her eyes."We did what had to be done," she reminded herself under her breath."You did it too clean," her wolf murmured back. "No scent. No print. You’re getting sloppy—you're getting emotional."The sound of footsteps down the hall made her stiffen.