Wifed the Wrong Man

I married a stranger the same night my fiancé chose my sister over me. No warning. No plan. Just heartbreak, bad decisions, and a man with grey eyes who said yes before I finished asking. His name is Caelan Rhys. Dangerous. Controlled. The kind of man that makes entire rooms go quiet when he walks in. He doesn't smile. He doesn't explain himself. And yet he agreed to marry me, a woman he had never met, without blinking once. I told myself it was simple. A contract. Twelve months of pretending. Enough time to secure my late mother's inheritance before my stepfather steals everything she worked her whole life to build. I told myself I could handle him. I was wrong. Caelan doesn't do anything without a reason. He watches me like he's already read the last page of a book I haven't opened yet. Every look lingers a second too long. Every touch, accidental, deliberate, I can never tell the difference, leaves something behind that I can't shake. He irritates me. He unsettles me. And God help me, I can't stop looking at him. But the closer I get, the more I realise that this marriage isn't just convenient for me. He came into my life with a plan. And I'm beginning to think I was always part of it. The question isn't whether Caelan Rhys is dangerous. The question is, by the time I find out exactly how dangerous, will it already be too late to stop myself from falling for him?

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