Chapter Two: The Proposal
952 Words
The next morning came too fast.
Nova Lane rubbed sleep from her eyes, staring at the sketch still sitting on her nightstand. It looked even more unnerving in daylight—the cold eyes, the crisp collar, the smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. She didn't remember drawing it, and that terrified her more than the fact that she’d drawn it at all.
He was in her head. Literally and figuratively.
She shook herself awake, tied her curls into a lazy bun, and threw on her thick coat. The café needed her. The real world needed her. Not… whatever mystery that man came wrapped in.
By the time she pushed open the café door, the snow had started again, light and slow like falling whispers. The bell chimed, but instead of the usual silence, someone was already sitting inside.
Nova froze.
It was him.
Cassian Wolfe.
Clean suit, new coat, same unreadable expression. His eyes tracked her like a calculation.
“Back for a second spill?” she asked carefully, setting her bag down.
He didn’t smile. “Actually, I’m here for you.”
Nova’s brows arched.
“I need your help,” he said plainly. “And before you say no, just listen.”
She crossed her arms. “You came all the way to my job to say that?”
“I came here,” he said, stepping closer, “because I don’t trust anyone else.”
Nova laughed. “That’s hilarious. We’ve spoken once.”
“And you still managed to ruin my suit and insult me. Impressive, really.”
She stared. “Are you trying to compliment me?”
“No,” he said dryly. “I’m trying to hire you.”
She blinked. “As a barista? Because I’m already that.”
He shook his head. “As my girlfriend.”
The silence hit like a snowstorm.
Nova gawked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“My company is dealing with... scrutiny. Personal rumors. I need a distraction. Someone believable. Untraceable. Unknown. Someone like you.”
Nova scoffed. “You want me to fake date you? Why not hire a model?”
“Because this isn’t a red-carpet stunt. It’s deeper. I need someone who doesn’t already belong to this world. Someone who doesn’t care about status or power.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So you want someone disposable?”
His jaw ticked. “No. I want someone convincing.”
Nova stared at him for a long moment. The nerve. The audacity. But beneath the ego, there was something else—desperation? Regret?
“I don’t even know your name,” she muttered.
“Cassian Wolfe,” he said. “And yes. That one.”
Nova swallowed.
He didn’t look like a man used to asking for anything. He looked like a man used to buying whatever he wanted.
“Why me?” she asked again, quieter this time.
His expression softened—barely.
“Because you’re the only person I’ve met in years who didn’t flinch around me.”
She hesitated.
“And,” he added, reaching into his coat, “because I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars upfront. Cash.”
He laid the envelope on the counter between them.
Nova stared at it like it might burn.
That Night
Nova stared at her ceiling. Her heart thudded like a drum she couldn’t silence.
Fake girlfriend.
It sounded insane. Unbelievable.
But ten thousand dollars would pay off her college loans. Fix the heater. Replace her cracked windows. Maybe even give her a fresh start somewhere else.
Was it worth faking love for a man who clearly didn’t believe in it?
She rolled over, fingers tracing the edge of her pillow.
He was dangerous. Not physically—yet. But emotionally. Psychologically. He knew how to twist the world to fit him, and something in his eyes said he’d done it before.
But still… she felt something. Something she couldn’t name.
Not attraction. Not trust.
Something buried. Like recognition.
Elsewhere in Montreal
Sabrina Knox slid a photo across the table.
Cassian picked it up. Nova. Her first day at the café. Smiling. Hair messy. A little sunlight catching in her lashes.
“She doesn’t remember anything,” Sabrina said.
“She’s not supposed to,” Cassian replied quietly.
“But Project Aether was never meant to be left dormant.”
“She’s not a project anymore,” he snapped. “She’s a person.”
Sabrina studied him. “That’s not how Orion Vale sees it. He’s resurfaced. If you don’t get to her first—he will.”
Cassian’s fingers curled around the photograph.
“I already have.”
The Next Morning
Nova stood outside Wolfe Technologies. Glass and chrome reached toward the sky. Her breath fogged the air, but her palms were sweating.
She had said yes.
She didn’t know why, or maybe she did.
Maybe she was tired of living on the edge of everyone else’s story. Maybe she wanted to step into something—anything—that made her feel real.
Even if it wasn’t.
Cassian met her at the door. No smile. Just a nod.
“You came,” he said.
“You paid,” she replied, trying to match his chill.
“Let’s get one thing clear,” he said, guiding her through the marble lobby. “In public, you’re my girlfriend. In private, you’re my ghost.”
Nova nodded slowly. “And if I stop pretending?”
He glanced at her, voice low and deadly.
“Then you stop existing in my world.”
She should’ve run. Every instinct screamed it.
But something inside her—the part that had sketched his face before they met—was already too curious to leave.
- Writer
