Chapter 03: Secrets Under Scrutiny
1918 Words
Caspian dragged me home that night. When we arrived, we stopped in his massive living room.
“We're married now, and you'll be living here with me from now on,” he stated firmly.
I nodded.
“You already know the terms of this arrangement, so there’s no need to question me,” Caspian added, his voice devoid of warmth. “Promise me you’ll act the part convincingly, especially around my father.”
“I promise,” I said softly, knowing I had no choice.
He took my hand and led me to a room down the hall.
“As much as you’ll be living here as my wife, we won’t be sharing a room,” Caspian declared.
My heart skipped a beat. “But... how do you intend to get me pregnant?” I stammered, my voice barely audible.
Caspian chuckled darkly. “You’ll come to my room whenever I want you to.”
My mind spun. Isn’t this just too much for me to handle?
Suddenly, he closed the gap between us. His fingers gripped my jaw gently, and before I could react, his lips crashed into mine. In a moment of weakness, I kissed him back. A deep rush of desire coursed through me, stirring emotions I didn’t want to feel.
Caspian pulled back, his eyes piercing mine. “I like this, Tasha. This is how I want it to look—real.”
He stepped back, smirking. “Now go take a shower. See you in the morning.”
Still shaken, I walked into the beautiful, elaborate room he had assigned to me. It was enormous, with a luxurious bed and a closet filled with clothes. Had he prepared for this all along? I wondered as I changed and freshened up.
The soft bed was too inviting, and soon, I drifted into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to a gentle kiss on my forehead. Startled, I opened my eyes to see Caspian standing over me.
“Good morning, babe,” he said softly.
“Good morning, Caspian.”
“No, no, no. Don’t call me Caspian. Call me something sweet.”
“Husband?” I ventured.
He smiled faintly. “Better.”
“We’ll be visiting my father today,” he continued. “And I need you to behave. My father is strict and shrewd—he’ll see through any lies if we’re not convincing enough.”
“When we get there, he’ll likely ask you some important questions. Do you know what he might ask?” Caspian asked, his piercing gaze fixed on me.
I hesitated. “Maybe… your favorite food?” I offered weakly.
Caspian shook his head, a faint smirk on his lips. “No. He’ll want to know where we met and how long we’ve been dating before getting married.”
I frowned slightly. “Alright, so when he asks where we met, I’ll just say we met a few weeks ago.”
Caspian’s smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp, almost exasperated look. “A few weeks ago? That would make him suspicious, Tasha. He’d see right through that.”
I bit my lip, realizing he was right. “So what do I say?”
“When he asks where we met, let him know it was at a birthday party in Chicago. We didn’t date then but reconnected here in Atlanta. And if he asks how long we’ve been dating, say it’s been a year.”
“What if he demands to see a marriage certificate?”
“We’ll handle that before visiting him. We’re going to the courthouse this morning to finalize it,” Caspian said, his tone decisive.
“You just have to be smart with him,” Caspian said, his tone firm.
“I will,” I replied softly before heading into the bathroom.
As I closed the door behind me, I called out, “Caspian, can you leave now? I want to shower.”
“Oh, sure. I was just about to,” he responded from the other side.
But as I turned on the faucet, I realized something was wrong. “Caspian, the hot water isn’t running. Can you check it, please?” I called out, trying to sound casual.
A muffled laugh came from the hallway. “Didn’t you just ask me to leave your room?” he teased.
“Yes, I did,” I admitted, my voice tinged with frustration. “But this is different. Please, just help me.”
There was silence for a moment, then the sound of the door creaking open. “Alright, but only because you asked so nicely,” Caspian said, stepping in.
I froze in horror, realizing too late that I hadn’t tied my towel properly. Before I could react, the towel slipped, leaving me stark naked.
Caspian’s eyes widened briefly before his lips curled into an amused grin. “Well, this is unexpected,” he murmured, his gaze lingering far too long.
I screamed, scrambling to cover myself, but in my rush, I slipped on the wet floor. Before I hit the ground, Caspian’s strong arms caught me.
For a moment, we were frozen—his arms around me, our faces mere inches apart. The air was thick with tension, and my mind raced. His eyes locked onto mine, and before I could stop it, his lips found mine in a searing kiss.
I responded instinctively, my heart pounding. But just as quickly, I broke free, pushing him away. “Leave!” I demanded, my face flushed with embarrassment.
Caspian chuckled softly, his gaze unapologetic. “I’ve seen everything now, Tasha. There’s no need to hide,” he said with a sly smile.
“It was a mistake!” I shot back, mortified.
With an infuriating grin, he turned the water heater on and walked out, his laughter echoing down the hallway.
With the housekeeper and chefs on holiday leave, Caspian and I made breakfast together. It felt oddly domestic, but there was an underlying tension between us that neither of us addressed.
After breakfast, we got dressed and headed to the courthouse. The marriage certificate was stamped, finalizing what felt more like a business deal than a union. We posed for a couple of pictures to add authenticity before heading to the Wolfe penthouse.
During the ride, Caspian reached for my hand, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. His touch sent a ripple of warmth through me, but I masked it with a soft smile, lost in thought.
Why was this marriage and a child so urgent for him? There was something deeper at play here, something he wasn’t telling me.
As my mind raced, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was a message from Camilla:
"Hey girl, how was last night? Did you both enjoy yourselves as husband and wife?"
I groaned quietly, shaking my head.
“Who’s that?” Caspian asked, glancing at me.
“My best friend, Camilla,” I replied, still staring at the screen.
“How’s she?” he asked casually, his voice holding a hint of curiosity.
“She’s fine,” I said, dismissing it.
Camilla sent another message almost instantly:
"Don’t avoid the question! I want details, Tasha."
“Camilla, stop intruding,” I muttered under my breath, typing a quick response to end the conversation.
“Why won’t I intrude? Aren’t I your best friend?” her next message read, but I ignored it, turning my attention back to Caspian.
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting the conversation drop.
The ride to the Wolfe penthouse was long, and exhaustion started to creep in. Still, I couldn’t shake the unease bubbling inside me. Caspian’s behavior was too calculated, too rehearsed. I couldn’t help but wonder—was I just another pawn in his game? And if so, what would happen when the game ended?
Soon, we arrived at the Wolfe penthouse—a grand, imposing mansion filled with antique paintings and luxurious furniture.
“Look who we have here!” A deep voice boomed as Mr. Wolfe, Caspian’s father, emerged.
Caspian stepped forward and embraced his father warmly. Mr. Wolfe, a towering man with an air of authority, turned his piercing gaze toward me. His lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“And who’s this beautiful young lady with you, Caspian?” he asked, his voice rich and commanding.
“This is Tasha Cole,” Caspian said confidently. “My wife.”
Mr. Wolfe’s sharp gaze shifted to me. “Your wife? Are you trying to deceive me, Caspian?”
My breath hitched. Did he see through us already?
“No, Father,” Caspian said firmly, his tone steady but respectful. “We’re not deceiving you.”
Caspian handed him the marriage certificate without hesitation.
Mr. Wolfe scanned the document and smiled. “Well, it’s about time, son. I was beginning to think you’d never settle down.”
As we followed him to the table, I leaned close to Caspian and whispered, “The table’s already set. Has he been waiting for us?”
“Yes,” Caspian murmured back, his tone low and matter-of-fact. “I told him I was bringing my wife home today.”
My stomach tightened at his words. The way he said it made this whole charade feel dangerously real.
We joined him at the dining table, and he turned his attention back to me. I kept stealing glances at Mr. Wolfe, trying to read him, but his expression was unreadable, almost Stoic.
“How did you meet my son?” he asked.
I repeated the rehearsed story about Chicago and Atlanta, adding enough detail to make it sound genuine.
Mr. Wolfe nodded approvingly. “I see the love in your eyes. Tasha, do you love my son?”
“Of course, I love him,” I said with conviction, glancing at Caspian.
“She does,” Caspian added. “Tasha takes care of me just like Mom did for you, Dad.”
Mr. Wolfe’s expression softened. “Love is a beautiful thing. I support you both.”
As we left the penthouse, Caspian turned to me. “I haven’t taken you out on a date since you moved in. Be my date tonight.”
I nodded reluctantly.
“Good,” he said. “We need to make this marriage look real. My father will be watching us closely.”
“Why are you doing all this?” I asked.
Caspian sighed. “If I don’t marry and have a child soon, I’ll lose my inheritance. My father wants me to prove I’m responsible enough to build a family.”
“And if you lose the inheritance?”
“I lost everything,” he admitted. “That’s why I need you.”
“And I need the money to take care of my brother,” I replied, sealing our mutual understanding.
Later that evening, we went to a nearby bar. Caspian slid his arm around my waist as we walked in. After ordering drinks, he leaned closer.
“Do you like PDA?” he asked, smirking.
I blushed. “Maybe.”
Before I could say more, he kissed me. It wasn’t part of the act—it felt real, and I responded instinctively.
Then, a flash of light interrupted us.
Startled, we turned to see someone lowering a camera.
“Who is that?” Caspian growled, his expression darkening.
I froze. Whoever it was… they were gone.
- Writer
