The marriage contract

Talon

Seeing Nathan drooling over Anthena stirred something in me—a dark anger I couldn't quite explain. I didn't want her for myself, yet watching someone else disrespect her felt intolerable.

Would withdrawing the contract make things difficult? Absolutely. But do I regret it? Not a bit. Nathan was an arrogant jerk I should never have gotten involved with.

Being confined in the car with her was torture enough; her scent was intoxicating, an ache I didn't need right now. Frustrated by my failed contract negotiations with Nathan and irritated by Evans last message, I snapped, voicing a thought I'd meant to keep hidden.

"You need to stay away from me, Anthena. For both our sakes."

The weight of my words hung heavy in the air, my heart thudding as I noticed a shift in her expression.

Did she hear that? Damn it.

She tilted forward, her voice soft yet steady. "Sir, I don't quite understand you." Her gaze looked into mine, curious and unyielding.

Hell. She heard it.

I went silent, then cleared my throat. "Forget it, Anthena. Just had... a lot on my mind."

She nodded, forcing a smile that failed to mask the uncertainty beneath it. It was silent, then she spoke again. "I'm sorry about the contract. I know how much it meant." Her smile wavered, filled with anxious sincerity, and I realized she thought my frustration was about the business alone.

"It's fine," I replied, brushing it off. "Nathan isn't that important."

As if my day needed more complications, Evans message replayed in my mind. Photos of Cassie sneaking into my apartment were circulating online, causing a stir with the board members and the media. And here was Anthena Wellington—graceful, infuriatingly alluring, and far too distracting.

When we arrived at the office, Cassie was already there, perched by my desk with a cake and bouquet. Her smile was gleeful as she walked over, pressing the flowers into my hand and kissing my cheek.

"Happy birthday, love," she murmured, her voice dripping with sweetness.

I forced a smile. "Thanks, but I told you, Cassie, I don't like celebrating this." Celebrating my birthday usually stirs up a familiar ache, something Cassie has never quite understood.

She gave a playful pout. "I know. But I'm celebrating you anyway." Her lips locked into mine, hungry and persistent, and within moments, she'd pressed my back against the desk, fingers working to unbutton my shirt. My wolf roared in protest, but I silenced it, letting Cassie take control.

A sharp knock on the door broke the moment. I quickly pulled back, straightening as I called out "come in."

The door opened, and Anthena stepped in, her eyes shifting between me and Cassie. "I didn't know you had a guest, sir," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "The press conference starts in fifteen minutes. Is there anything you need me to prepare?"

Cassie's face twisted with disgust. "If you knew your job, you'd already have everything ready without asking," she snapped, her tone laced with venom.

"Cassie, that's enough," I said, anger simmering just beneath my calm exterior. "Anthena just started working here."

"But she's so unpr-"

"I said stop." My voice was firm, and Cassie fell silent, though her glare remained icy.

Turning to Anthena, I nodded. "I'll be out soon."

Anthena gave a small nod and left the room. As the door clicked shut, I saw Cassie, her arms folded tightly across her chest, rising and falling with anger. There was a time when her temper had intrigued me; now, it felt exhausting.

Cassie was attractive, yes. The good sex, the occasional thrill—that's all she'd ever brought to the table. But aside from that, there was nothing.

I returned to the matter at hand—the contract I'd been drafting in my hand. "Let's get married, Cassie," I said, watching her expression shift to one of eager disbelief.

"What do you mean?" She asked, stepping closer, excitement flickering in her eyes.

I clarified, "It's a contract. You'll be the Luna, but I won't be fulfilling any... husbandly duties.

Her expression softened into a sly smile. "Are you serious?" She looked thrilled, practically glowing at the thought of power in her grasp.

I nodded. "Good. We'll announce it at the press conference."

As we walked into the conference hand in hand, camera flashes greeted us from every angle. I took my seat, Cassie beside me, and spoke to the reporters with precision.

"Cassie and I have been seeing each other for some time, and we've decided to get married."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, photographees leaning in to capture the moment. But as my words faded, my gaze drifted across the room to where Anthena stood, her expression unreadable. She watched from the shadows, her presence a quiet force.

Evans and Lucian had both warned against this, but I'd dismissed them. This was necessary—for the pack, for the board, for appearances. Cassie clutched my hand, oblivious to my inner conflict, basking in the attention as we exited the hall to the waiting car.

Over the next two weeks, I avoided Anthena whenever possible, keeping interactions minimal. The less I saw of her, the better. But the few moments I did encounter her, it felt as if the room narrowed to just the two of us. She had an infuriating way of drawing my attention, even when I willed it away.

She was skilled, competent, and, without knowing it, a danger to my carefully laid plans.

As I shut down my laptop and prepared to leave, I reached for the door to Anthena's office to tell her she could go. But as I turned the handle, I heard her voice low and cautious, speaking to someone on the other end of a phone call.

"I haven’t found any new leads on the... case, but don’t worry. I’ll have a full report for you soon."

Her words floated through the door, soft, almost undetectable—but not for me. My heightened senses picked up every quiet word, clear enough to stop me in my tracks. Case? My mind seized the word, dissecting it, trying to piece together the implications.

I sharpened my focus, letting the world fall away as I honed in on her murmuring. No names, no specifics, but her tone carried an undercurrent of tension, something hidden beneath the surface. Anthena Wellington, my assistant, was anything but ordinary. She was keeping secrets, and I needed to know what they were.

I should have her placed under twenty-four-hour surveillance.

The game had just begun.