The Wolf’s Contract Marriage by Layla Silver

Chapter 3 – Caelum

Staring at the half-eaten pizza cooling in its box, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I really needed to stop eating like crap.

Sure, it had been a long day, and lunch had been pretty healthy. And yes, I was only feeding myself, and my health was more than good enough to handle a night of junk food now and then. But these weren't the kinds of habits I could afford to cultivate. So first, I would get Octavia back, and then I'd need to make sure there was real food every night. Healthy food. Balanced meals. The closer I stuck to that now, the easier it would be later.

My mental flogging did not produce the guilt it should have. Giving up, I left the pizza where it was and considered what I might accomplish with what remained of my evening. I had several books waiting for me and a new wood-cut puzzle I’d yet to pull from its box. But I knew neither would keep my interest with Alcott’s comments about art schools in my head.

Fine, I thought, resigned. Research it is.

Before I got any further, the doorbell rang. For a moment, I simply frowned in the direction of the front door. Who would be ringing my doorbell? Especially this late?

The sound came again, and I finally moved, heading toward the door. If this was solicitors—

All my thoughts skidded to a halt as I pulled the door open. A young woman stood on my doorstep, windblown and as stunningly beautiful as a supermodel. My eyes traced her face, taken in by her flawlessly youthful skin, bright eyes, and the long layers of her hair that had escaped her braid to brush temptingly against her cheeks.

“Caelum?” she asked, looking me over with a frank gaze.

“Yes,” I answered reflexively.

She smiled and stuck out one hand. “I’m Teagan. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

"Teagan," I repeated, scouring my memory and trying to come up with some reason why I should know who my visitor was as I shook her hand. Then, coming up empty, I asked, "Can I… help you with something?"

She cocked her head to one side, confusion flitting across her face. “That’s an odd question.”

Caught between curiosity and bafflement, I felt my brow furrow. “Why?”

One of her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. “You know why I’m here.”

“I assure you I don’t,” I said, my mood turning dark as my mind ran with unwelcome possibilities. “If this is a prank—”

“No!”

Her expression changed to wariness, and she took a half-step back, glancing around as if she expected danger. Something about that set my instincts on edge. I, too, looked around, searching for anything amiss.

"I'm from the agency," she said, shifting so that her back was to the wall of the garage. She kept me in her peripheral vision as she watched back to the way she'd come. Then, digging into the pocket of her brown leather jacket, she produced a handful of heavily folded papers. "You sent the Uber to pick me up at the airport."

Her uneasiness suffused the air and made my skin prickle. I'd been a husband, and I was a father—I knew what a girl trying not to look as alarmed or frightened as she was looked like, and I was incapable of ignoring it. So I stepped back, my decision made before I'd even really thought about it.

“Come inside.”

Her gaze snapped back to me, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't know what's going on," I said firmly, "but I think it's best if you come inside so we can sort it out. There are cameras," I added, not sure if I was reassuring Teagan or myself. "Monitored by a security company in real-time."

Teagan licked her lips, glanced around one more time, then slipped past me into the house. She was slender, I saw, as she dropped the backpack off her shoulders and set it by the door, her eyes roaming the modest entryway. But, I couldn't help noting when she shrugged her jacket off and tossed it atop her bag. Her curves were generous for her lithe frame. Teagan's long braid hung down her back, and her skin was kissed bronze from time in the sun.

Catching myself staring, I jerked my eyes away before she could notice. Then, deliberately shutting and re-locking the door, I motioned toward the kitchen.

“Please. This way.”

She nodded and fell into step behind me, the papers still clutched in one hand.

It was brighter in the kitchen, and somehow that eased the mood. "Can I get you a drink?" I asked, falling back on basic manners to get things started.

“Water would be great, thanks.” She drifted toward the small table. “You are Caelum Burroughs, the architect, aren’t you?” she asked, seeming to find her footing. Her lips curved up. “If this is a mix-up, I’d hate for this to be as stupid as two guys named Caelum living at similar addresses.”

"That's definitely me," I agreed, retrieving a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water, and carrying it over. "But I don't have any idea who you are, and I decidedly didn’t hire an Uber to collect you and bring you here." Setting the water down, I met her eyes and let my expression go hard. I dropped my voice to a low growl. "If you've been put up to something by Camilla, Trixie, or one of their goons, tell me now. Then I can protect you and get you out of this. If you lie to me—"

“Camilla’s your ex,” she interrupted, frowning. “Right?” Her expression pinched. “Oh god, I hope that’s not what’s going on because that isn’t at all—” she stopped. Took a deep breath. “Can we sit?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a chair out and dropped down into it. I drew out the opposite seat, more slowly, and sank down until we faced each other across the table. Teagan shoved the papers she carried across the table at me.

"I'm Teagan Lang," she said briskly, leaning forward to look me in the eyes earnestly. "I found you—or someone pretending to be you—on MatchMeUp."

Glancing down, I found a logo for the said company on the top corner of the page. Skimming down, I found my personal information—name, age, address, abbreviated job history. My heart skipped then raced when both Camilla and Octavia were listed, too, under the "family" section.

"It's a match-making site," Teagan continued determinedly. "For people who want nice, solid marriages based on mutual agreement and shared priorities."

I looked up, appalled. “I was listed on a match-making site? For marriages of convenience?”

She bit her lip, and I got the disgruntling impression that she was trying not to laugh at my horror. "Your profile said your ex is keeping you from getting custody of your daughter and that you were looking for a wife to shore up your case and help you raise her. Can you tell me how much of that is true?"

Looking over the sheet again, I scowled. “Everything except the part about looking for a wife.” Suspicion rose. “Did Alcott put you up to this? I swear to god—”

“I don’t know anyone named Alcott,” she interrupted, sitting back and holding her hands up, palms out. “I told you, I found you on the site, all on my own.”

"Right," I said dubiously. "Because a beautiful young woman like you was just randomly browsing around looking for a guy with kids to marry."

Teagan glanced away, chewing on her lip. When she looked back, I realized she was blushing faintly.

"I was, actually," she said, a glimmer of self-consciousness showing through her otherwise put-together manner. "Look." She picked at a fingernail but made herself meet my eyes again. "I read your story." She nodded to the printouts I held. "My mother was like that—like Camilla. She broke my dad's heart and wrecked his life and we—my sister and brother and I—paid for it. We're still paying for it.”

My heart unexpectedly twisted.

"I don't have anyone," she continued. "Not romantically, and I don't expect to. I've seen up close what happens when that goes bad, and I'm not interested. But I thought—" she gestured at the papers. "What's not to like about a business arrangement, right? You get a steady lover without the drama, and I'd get to help you kick your ex out of your life and protect your little girl from everything I went through. And it was through an official agency with solid reviews and a Better Business Bureau rating, so I figured it was safe." She made a face. "However, if you're listed there when you don't actually need a wife, I guess it isn't all that safe after all."

For a long moment, I wrestled with myself.

“I said I wasn’t looking for a wife,” I finally said slowly. “Not that I don’t need one.”

Teagan's expression shifted to something surprised and hopeful, and I felt the innocence in it like a snare. But, steeling myself against the feeling, I continued against my better judgment.

"Octavia was never supposed to exist. So Camilla and I agreed not to have children, and she insisted she could manage birth control for us and that I shouldn't worry about it."

Teagan grimaced. “And then she screwed up?”

"Then she screwed me over," I corrected, old bitterness rising. "I thought we were still in love. Camilla already knew she wanted out of our marriage—and she wanted to get as much money out of me as she could in the process. So she got pregnant. Gave me a tearful story about it being an accident. But, idiot that I was, I believed her and promised we'd make it work." My fingers clenched around the papers I still held. "The first time I saw an ultrasound of Octavia, my world shifted on its axis. I've never loved anyone so much in my life."

"So, of course, Camilla is using her against you."

The ire in Teagan's voice was surprising but also sent a bolt of warmth through me. It was nice to be seen and heard and commiserated with. I'd been so careful since the divorce started not to say anything to anyone where it might be overheard or used against me. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed the release of it. It was not necessarily wise to tell all this to a stranger now, but the hardness and grief in her eyes told me she knew this feeling and hated it. She'd been in Octavia's shoes, after all. Unreasonable protectiveness rose in me, and I tried to shake it off—her suffering was long over, after all, and she'd turned out all right, it seemed. But, also, she was a stranger, and this entire conversation was ridiculous.

“How is your daughter coping?”

Teagan's voice was gentle, and it made me blink. She sounded like she genuinely cared.

"Decently," I said begrudgingly. "Most of the time. Tavi goes to private school, and I was able to force Camilla to keep her enrolled there, so she's had some stability. I stay as involved as I can." I scowled. "But now Camilla's lover is trying to get court permission to send her to boarding school, and she won't handle that well."

Teagan sucked in a breath. “Is there anything you can do?”

I snorted. “Get a wife, like Alcott suggested,” I shot back sarcastically. “Figure out a way to demonstrate that I can offer something better for her long-term educational and career options than a first-line art-oriented boarding school.” I rubbed my forehead, everything suddenly catching up with me and weighing heavy on my shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’d argue that.”

“How about private tutoring from a published illustrator?” Teagan suggested.

"Excuse me?" The question was so far out the left field that I had to go over it in my head twice to make sure I'd heard correctly.

She shifted awkwardly. “I don’t usually tell people this, but I illustrated a series of successful children’s books. I do online curriculum stuff now, and that’s pretty highly rated, too.”

I felt my eyebrows go up. “You can’t be old enough for that.”

She laughed, a truly entertained sound. "I started early," she allowed. "But I'll give you my references if you want them. They're all legit."

“Are you sure you’re not a plant?” I asked, unwanted dubiousness worrying at me behind my ribs. “Because if you’re really what you claim to be, this is a little too convenient.”

She went serious in a heartbeat. "I'm not a liar," she insisted firmly. Then she relented a little. "But I can see why you'd be concerned." She rubbed a finger against the tabletop and looked at me through long, dark lashes. "You know you don't have to decide anything tonight, right? I mean, this is Vegas. It's not like there's a lack of hotels. I can find somewhere to stay, and we can look into figuring out who set you up like this, and if you'd rather take your chances on getting custody some other way, I won't take it personally." She shrugged. "It's not like you're the only guy in the world in this kind of situation. I can find somebody else with a kid to protect."

Inexplicably, that idea both reassured and bothered me. On the one hand, the reminder that I was in control felt like a classic psychology move—the kind of thing a police negotiator would say to dangerous criminals holding hostages. But, on the other hand, my unexpected guest was proving to be one of the most level-headed people I'd ever met. She was seamlessly rolling with the punches and confident enough in herself to give me the options because she knew she could handle whatever I chose. After years of Camilla’s meltdowns and manipulativeness, Teagan’s easy-going nature was both refreshing and breathtakingly attractive… which brought me to the other issue.

She might not be as young as she looked, but Teagan couldn't be that old, and she was beautiful. No part of me felt good about the idea of sending her out into the night to find a hotel on the fly by herself. There were plenty of decent places, but still… I sighed.

“I have a spare bedroom.” Committed now, I set my jaw. “I will need to look into this, and it's best if you stick around until I get to the bottom of it. You're as much a victim as I am. So at least for the next couple of days, you might as well stick around." I stood up. "On that note, I don't mean to be rude, but it's been a long day, and I have to work early tomorrow. So I think I should show you around, and then we should call it a night."

“That sounds great.” She offered me a smile. “Lead the way.”