I’m sitting in my office, speaking with my cabinet, when Ella’s delicious scent fills the air. I’ve been thinking about her on and off all morning, wondering how she took the news of the interview, and regretting that I hadn’t been able to tell her in person. Normally, I wouldn’t do such a thing, but I needed to check in with my guards about their investigation into the intruder, and she’d been sleeping so soundly that I couldn’t bear to wake her.
I sense her nearness now and wonder if something’s wrong. I’m already on my feet when I hear my assistant encouraging her to wait: “No, he’ll want to see you; just wait a moment.”
“I’m sorry, it’s really not urgent,” Ella protests. “I should have known you’d be busy.”
She’s retreating, her delicate footsteps fading, and I push through the door before she can escape. “And just where do you think you’re going?”
Ella freezes, her small body tensing. When she turns, her gaze is fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I glance at the wolves over my shoulder. “Leave us.”
Ella gnaws on her lower lip as my cabinet members file past her, leaving the office. She shifts restlessly on her feet. I can tell something is bothering her, but I also can’t help noticing how lovely she looks in that cream-colored dress. “Come here, little one,” I command, remaining in the doorway.
This catches her attention, and indignation flashes in her golden eyes as she meets my gaze. I can tell she wants to disobey, but I arch a challenging eyebrow, and she slowly crosses the room. I drag my knuckles along her cheekbone when she’s before me, enjoying how her defiance softens into uncertainty. “How did the interview go?”
“Good—I think,” she qualifies, unconsciously leaning her cheek into my hand. My wolf perks up at her obvious response to my touch, and I beckon her inside.
“Can I get you anything? Have you eaten lunch?” I ask, thinking of the baby.
“My stomach’s been unsettled,” Ella admits, looking guilty.
I press my hand to her abdomen, feeling the baby’s heartbeat and probing the mental link. The baby seems perfectly content, but her lack of appetite worries me. “We can order in some lunch,” I suggest, resisting the urge to continue touching her.
“Sin—Dominic, I need to talk to you,” she says, ignoring the offer and just barely remembering my given name.
“Of course. What’s wrong?” I ask, taking a seat behind my desk.
Ella’s hands fidget, and she stares at their movement instead of meeting my gaze. “I think… I think I’m having second thoughts.”
This grabs my full attention. “How so?”
“What we’re doing… it’s wrong,” Ella chokes out, trembling. “It’s fraud. I… I don’t know if I can handle the pressure.” Her cheeks flush, and she sounds as if she might cry. “I know I said I could do it, but I’m not sure I can pretend to be someone I’m not for the rest of my life… but I don’t want to lose the baby.” Now she is crying, and I’m on my feet instantly. Ella turns her back, her shoulders shaking, as if she doesn’t want me to see her distress. “I don’t want to fail you; I can’t lose the baby. I just don’t know what to do.”
I approach from behind, my heart aching for her. I should have foreseen this. Ella is honest and good-hearted; of course, a life of deceit would trouble her. I suppose when we made the agreement, I didn’t realize how much integrity she possessed, but I know now. Ella flinches when I take her shoulders, and I gently turn her to face me. “Come here,” I say again, but this time it’s not a command. It’s an invitation, one I have to encourage by pulling her into my arms.
As soon as I hold her, she breaks down, sobbing and wrapping her slender arms around me. Her grip feels as delicate as a child’s compared to my shifter strength. “I’m sorry,” I say, kissing her hair. “I should have realized how much this scheme was demanding of you.”
“I can still do it!” she insists defiantly, clearly torn between proving herself, keeping her baby, and doing the right thing.
Doubts swirl in my mind. Can this really work? What will we do after the baby is born, when she no longer has its scent? What happens if someone connects her to Ella Reina, orphaned human and disgraced nanny? Am I really willing to put her through all this? She doesn’t even know the true dangers she faces, and already the stress is overwhelming. Is asking her to pose as my Luna harming the baby? What will the baby think when it’s old enough to understand our relationship is a sham? What if the pack discovers the truth?
Even as these potential disasters fill my head, my wolf takes over, insisting we find a way to make it work. Ella has already proven to be my greatest asset in this campaign—not only is she giving me an heir, but she charms everyone she meets. I need her to win. More importantly, my wolf won’t accept losing her. I try to tell him that dissolving our agreement doesn’t mean losing her, but he’s resolute.
“Come on, let’s talk about this,” I suggest, moving to the couch. “What worries you most about our plan?”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Ella whispers, tears clinging to her lashes. “I don’t want to deceive honest, hardworking shifters. I don’t want my life to be a lie.”
“How long have you felt this way?” I ask.
“I guess a little from the beginning,” she confesses, “but it really hit me today during the interview. I just thought about doing this for the rest of my life, and it felt overwhelming.”
I nod, pulling her between my legs and stroking her sides. “The first, and most important thing you need to understand is that shifter society doesn’t function like human society. We are a ruthless species, and we do what’s necessary to protect our packs,” I explain. “I know it feels like a huge fraud, but you must remember that my campaign is the only thing standing between innocent people and a tyrant. If the Prince takes the throne, he will eliminate the Alpha council and all his political opponents to maintain power forever. He will oppress and terrorize millions.”
“If he’s that bad, why hasn’t he already staged a coup?” Ella asks, noticeably calmer as my words sink in.
“Because he doesn’t have the power yet,” I clarify. “He doesn’t have an army—yet. His father is cruel, but old-fashioned enough to respect our political system. The Prince, on the other hand…” I trail off.
“So, basically, you’re saying lying is the lesser evil,” Ella summarizes.
“Honesty is admirable,” I say gently, “but it’s a luxury shifters can’t afford right now. I know it feels wrong, but when your enemies are as vile as the Prince, you have to bend the rules to survive.”
“Like wartime spies?” Ella suggests morosely.
“Something like that,” I smile.
She nods, deep in thought, her brow furrowed, and I resist smoothing away the adorable wrinkles with my fingers. “I want a safe life for my baby. If the Prince wins… would he…?” She trails off, unable to speak the awful words.
“It’s highly likely,” I confirm. I have no doubt the Prince would try to kill my heir—he probably already has plans to.
Ella frowns. “Then I’ll do whatever it takes to help you win.” She seems much more relaxed, but I still sense her lingering anxiety.
“Would you feel better if you could spend more time with shifters, get to know our ways better?”