Chapter 2

A week into my marriage, I came face-to-face with Caspian's so-called "trouble."

Seraphine, Caspian's childhood sweetheart and the rumored fiancée.

She'd been studying abroad for three years.

But as soon as she heard Caspian had gotten married, she flew back overnight and marched straight into the Vance Group.

I was delivering documents to Caspian. On paper, we were married, but in reality, I was just his assistant—part of our arrangement.

When I opened the office door, I saw a woman in a red dress perched on Caspian's lap, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Caspian," she called out, her voice sugary sweet and trembling with tears. "Why did you marry someone else? You promised you'd wait for me."

Caspian didn't push her away.

He had his prosthetic identity mask on, so his face was impossible to read, but his hand rested on her waist; the way he held her was unmistakably intimate.

I knocked on the door and cleared my throat. "Mr. Vance, here are the documents."

Seraphine turned to look at me, her eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. Her expression shifted from surprise to pure contempt. "So you're the substitute bride? Lyra Sterling?"

"That's me," I replied.

"You look alright," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "But Caspian will never fall for you. Do you even know why he wears that prosthetic identity mask? It's because he doesn't want anyone to see him cry over me. That car accident three years ago? He was rushing to the airport to catch me, and that's how it happened..."

"Seraphine," Caspian cut her off, his voice cold. "That's enough."

"No way!" She shot up and strode over to me. "Lyra, do yourself a favor and ask for a divorce. Caspian only married you to get back at me and drag me home. Now that I'm back, you're nothing."

I shot her a look, then turned to Caspian.

Caspian just sat there, silent, not bothering to deny or explain. He simply stared at me, his gaze as deep and unfathomable as ever.

"Mr. Vance," I said, "should I step out?"

"No need," he replied. "Just leave the documents, and you can go."

I set the documents down and turned to leave. As the door clicked shut behind me, Seraphine's laughter rang out, clear as a bell.

Out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

"It doesn't hurt," I told myself. "This was always just a deal. No emotions, no heartbreak."

But then, why did it feel like something had a grip on my heart?

*****

That night, for the first time ever, Caspian returned to the master bedroom.

I was in the shower, and when I came out, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, his prosthetic identity mask removed, exposing the lower half of his face.

The lamp's dim glow painted his features in stark relief, like a shadow in a wash painting, sharp and achingly alone.

"Don't take anything Seraphine says too seriously," he said. "She's always blowing things out of proportion."

"Oh," I said as I ran a towel through my hair. "So the car accident wasn't because you were chasing after her?"

"No," he replied.

"Then what was it for?" I asked.

He was quiet for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he said, "To save someone who wasn't important."

"Someone... not important?" I repeated softly, not sure if I was asking him or myself.

"Someone..." Caspian hesitated, his voice colder than ever, "someone I've already forgotten."

I stared at him, and it suddenly dawned on me that this was the first time he'd ever talked to me about something personal.

Sure, it was vague, and he was still hiding things, but it was the realist he'd ever been with me.

"Caspian," I said as I sat down next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "I know this is just a deal between us, but...can't we at least try being friends?"

He turned to me, his expression complicated. "Friends?"

"Yeah. You don't have to tell me anything, and I won't ask. But if you ever need someone, I'll be here for you."

He smiled, and this time, there was real warmth in it. "Lyra, do you know why I picked you?"

"Because you have leverage on me?" I asked.

"No," he said. "It was the way you looked at the wedding, so desperate, but still so proud. The same look I had three years ago."

We locked eyes, and suddenly the air between us felt charged, almost electric.

He reached out and touched my cheek, his fingers rough and calloused, but somehow warm.

"Get some sleep," he said softly. "We'll have to deal with Seraphine tomorrow."

He lay down on the other side of the bed, a fist's width apart from me.

I turned off the light and lay awake in the darkness, eyes open.

Caspian, who was he really? Was his tenderness genuine, or just another performance?

I didn't know. But I found myself wanting to find out.