Anna POV:
"What have you done?"
My mother's voice was a shriek, so sharp and high-pitched it felt like a physical jab in my eardrum. I held the phone an inch away from my ear, wincing.
"Hello to you too, Mom," I said, sinking onto a worn-out stool in the cramped break room. I rubbed my temples, a headache already beginning to form.
"Don't you 'hello' me! Hayes's mother just called me. Hysterical! She said you assaulted her son! You threw a drink on him in public!"
"He was a misogynistic pig who told me I had to give up my life's work to become his personal servant," I shot back, my voice low and tight. "He was lucky it was only iced coffee."
"He's from the Goodwin family, Anna! They are one of the most respected lines in this pack! You don't have the right to be picky! You're wolfless! Do you understand what that means? Your options are limited!"
There it was again. Wolfless. The word she used like a brand to remind me of my place. A cold, sharp pain lanced through my chest. My hand tightened on the phone, my knuckles turning white. It wasn't just the word; it was the way she said it. Like I was a defective product she was trying to offload before the warranty expired.
"My options are my own," I said through gritted teeth.
"No, they are not!" she screeched. "If you don't secure a proper mating by the end of the month, the elders will step in. Alpha Marcus has already suggested a match. Bernard from the Silver Creek Pack."
My blood ran cold. Bernard was in his late fifties, twice divorced, with a notorious drinking problem and hands that wandered. The thought of him touching me made my stomach churn with bile.
"No," I whispered, a wave of pure, hot rage surging through me. "Absolutely not." I kicked the metal leg of a storage shelf, the impact rattling a stack of coffee filters. "He's a disgusting old drunk, Mom! You'd really marry me off to him? You don't care if I'm happy, do you? You just care about appearances!"
"Don't be dramatic," she said, her voice turning cold and dismissive. "It's a good alliance. The elders have spoken. My hands are tied."
A suffocating wave of despair washed over me. The walls of the tiny break room felt like they were closing in. I was trapped. No matter how hard I fought, they would find a way to cage me. My gaze drifted aimlessly around the room, landing on the gap in the curtain that led back into the cafe.
Through the opening, I could see him. Derrick. He was sitting quietly at the corner table, nursing his coffee, a picture of calm in my storm. He was just a normal guy. A working man. Uncomplicated.
An idea, wild and desperate, flickered in my mind. A tiny spark in the overwhelming darkness.
I pressed the phone against my chest, muffling the speaker. I pushed through the curtain and walked quickly to his table. He looked up as I approached, his dark eyes questioning.
"I'm so sorry to ask this," I whispered, my voice frantic. "This is going to sound crazy, but do you know anything about the prominent families in Crestfall City? Like, gossip? Scandals?"
A strange light gleamed in his eyes. He leaned forward, his voice a low conspiratorial rumble. "The Hendersons' youngest son has a gambling problem. Alpha Sterling's designated heir just got his third DUI. And the Goodwin family? Their entire fortune is built on a fraudulent land deal from two generations ago. It's an open secret."
It was exactly the ammunition I needed. I felt a surge of triumphant energy.
I hurried back into the break room, putting the phone back to my ear. "A good alliance?" I scoffed, my voice dripping with newfound confidence. "You mean with the Goodwins, whose family wealth is a complete sham? Or maybe you'd prefer I marry into the Hendersons, so my future mate can gamble away my coffee shop? These 'noble' families are a joke, Mom."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. I had never spoken to her like this, never used the pack's dirty laundry against her.
She sputtered, trying to regain control. "You are being disrespectful, Anna!"
"I'm being realistic!"
"That's it!" she finally snapped, her voice hard as nails. "I am done with your games. This weekend. You will bring home a suitable fiancé to the family dinner. Not a date. A fiancé. Or on Monday morning, I will personally drive you to the courthouse to sign the papers with Bernard. This is your final warning."
The line went dead.
I stood there, the dial tone buzzing in my ear. A fiancé. By the weekend. It was impossible. She had finally checkmated me.
My arm dropped to my side, the phone feeling impossibly heavy. It almost slipped from my numb fingers.
I stumbled back out into the cafe, my legs feeling weak. Derrick was watching me, his expression concerned. He stood up and pulled a napkin from the dispenser, holding it out to me. I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
I took the napkin, my fingers brushing his again. This time, the warmth from his hand felt grounding. Steady.
I looked at him. At his solid frame, his calm demeanor. He wasn't an Alpha. He wasn't from a powerful family. He was just... Derrick. And in that moment, he seemed like the only solid thing in a world that was crumbling around me.
A fake boyfriend wouldn't work. My mother was too shrewd. She'd see through it in a second. She'd demand proof, background checks, a family meeting.
Only something real, something legally binding, would stop her. A marriage certificate.
The crazy spark from before ignited into a full-blown, terrifying blaze. It was insane. It was reckless. It was my only way out.
My breathing evened out. My gaze sharpened, focusing on Derrick with a new, desperate intensity. He met my stare, his head tilted slightly. A flicker of something-anticipation?-crossed his face.
I walked back to his table, but this time, I wasn't asking for gossip. I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, the motion deliberate and formal.
I folded my hands on the tabletop, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. This was either the stupidest or the smartest thing I had ever done.
"Derrick," I began, my voice surprisingly steady.
"I have a proposition for you."
The words hung in the air between us, suspended in the thick aroma of coffee and desperation.
Derrick leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He didn't look surprised. He looked... interested. He raised a single, dark eyebrow. "I'm listening."
My mouth was suddenly dry. I licked my lips, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I need a fiancé. Just for show. To get my mother and the pack elders off my back." I rushed the words out before I could lose my nerve. "I would pay you, of course. A generous amount. You'd just have to show up to a family dinner this weekend, play the part. After a few months, we can stage a messy, public breakup. Everyone goes their separate ways."
He was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes studying my face. The intensity of his gaze made me feel like a butterfly pinned to a board. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful.
"A fake fiancé," he mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Your mother strikes me as a sharp woman, Anna. Do you really think she'll be fooled by a show? She'll ask questions. She'll want to see proof."
He was right. My stomach sank. "I know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "It's a long shot, but I don't have any other options."
Derrick leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. The space between us shrank, and his presence seemed to fill my entire field of vision. He smelled of sawdust, fresh air, and something else... something uniquely masculine and deeply unsettling.
"There is another option," he said, his voice dropping even lower, a conspiratorial rumble. "One that's foolproof."
I looked at him, confused.
"We get married."
