I step into Cassie’s roomy walk-in closet in our new home—a three-bedroom cottage situated on the palace grounds in Circo—and take a look around. When I left two hours ago, cardboard boxes in varying sizes filled the space, stacked like Jenga blocks. Now, only a few unopened boxes remain.

Cassie is standing in front of a garment bar. As I make my way to her, she glances over her shoulder.

The feathery ends of her dark ponytail peek from the paisley scarf tied around her head. The silky material matches the merlot shade of her long-sleeved T-shirt. Her dark blue skinny jeans stop at her ankles, revealing her bare feet with their bright red toenails.

I painted them last night after going down on her in the shower. I’m really good at one of those tasks. I’ll let you guess which one.

She smiles when she sees me, a gorgeous curve that shows her teeth and lights up her eyes. “Hey, husband. You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.”

She tips her head back and purses her pink lips, clearly expecting a kiss, so I brush my mouth against hers. I keep it brief because I don’t want to be sidetracked from my objective—telling Cassie that I’m the father of her unborn child.

We’ve been home from our honeymoon for five days, and I’ve had multiple opportunities to tell her the truth about the baby she’s carrying. But I haven’t been able to find the words (or the balls).

I need to figure out how to minimize the damage I’ve caused by keeping this secret, and I need to figure it out soon. Cassie and I are publicly announcing our marriage in less than forty-eight hours.

With the clock ticking, I decided to drive out to Helios to talk to Leo. I’ve always been able to rely on his wise counsel, but once I got there, I changed my mind about soliciting his advice. It didn’t feel right to tell my brother about the baby before I told Cassie.

She extends her arms and turns in a circle. “What do you think?”

“I’m impressed. You made a lot of progress.”

While we were on our honeymoon, my secretary arranged for Cassie’s belongings to be boxed up and delivered to the cottage, along with anything I’d left behind at Helios. The boxes were waiting for us when we returned home because my wife insisted that we unpack everything ourselves after she found out that someone else had always done it for me.

Under Cassie’s supervision, I made myself useful by hauling the boxes and deftly wielding a utility knife. It’s surprising how much you can learn about someone by helping them move. For instance, now I know my wife would have no trouble commanding the entire Alsanian military.

“How was your visit with Leo?” she asks, turning back to the garment rack.

“Good.”

She relocates a couple of brightly patterned shirts on the metal bar. “You got a huge delivery from Lenoir’s while you were gone. I had them put everything in your closet.”

“It’s all for you.”

She stops messing with the shirts and turns to face me again. “It is?”

Nodding, I say, “You mentioned you needed more maternity clothes, so I picked some online and had them delivered.”

“That was thoughtful.” Another smile curves her lips, this one even bigger than the last. “You’re a really good husband, do you know that?” She stands on her tiptoes and loops her arms around my neck. “I love you.”

I bring my hands to her waist. “I love you too, bellezzina.”

She gives me a soft kiss, one that lingers long enough to make my cock thicken a bit. “Why don’t you bring the bags in here?” she suggests. “I’ll model my new clothes for you.”

I hesitate, knowing that every second that passes without telling Cassie the truth just makes it worse. My wife drops her arms from my neck, staring into my face.

“You don’t want me to model for you?”

“Of course I do.”

I start toward the door, telling myself that the moment I step foot back inside this closet, I’m going to come clean. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? She wouldn’t walk out on me or our marriage.

Would she?

No, she wouldn’t. She loves me. I know she does. And that love will compel her to stay with me, even if she’s angry.

“Before you go, can you get that for me?” she asks, pointing to a box stacked on top of two others. “I can’t reach it.”

Frowning, I say, “You’re almost six months pregnant. You don’t need to be lifting heavy boxes.”

She pats her bump. “I’m aware. That’s why I asked you to do it.”

I move the box to the floor and slice through the packing tape with the utility knife. As I open the cardboard flap to reveal the contents, I freeze in horror. The white wolf mask I wore at the masquerade ball lies on top.

Evidence of my crime.

With shaking hands, I force the flaps closed. Too late, I see my initials printed on the cardboard. Of all the boxes to be mistakenly delivered to Cassie’s closet, why did it have to be this one?

Panicked, I scoop up the box in both arms and take a step toward the door. My heart is thumping so hard and so fast it feels as if it might jump out of my chest. 

“What are you doing?” Cassie asks.

Without stopping, I say, “This is mine. I’m taking it to my closet.”

And then I’m going to smuggle that fucking mask out of the house and burn it until it’s nothing but a pile of ash.

As I move across the closet, one of the untucked cardboard flaps pops up and block my vision. I balance the box on one arm and try to slap it closed with my other hand.

“Let me help,” she offers.

“No!”

I give up on the flaps and rush toward the door with my view impaired. I’m almost there but then ... then I trip. Everything seems to happen in slow motion—I pitch forward, the box tips, and the contents fly out right before I tumble to the floor.

I roll to my hands and knees, frantically searching for the wolf mask. Spotting it about two feet away, I lunge toward it with my hand outstretched. My fingers find nothing but air because Cassie scoops it up before I can.

I scramble to my feet, my denim-covered knees slipping on the slick hardwood floors. I keep my eyes locked on her as she turns the mask over in her hands.

She stares down at it for several heartbeats before bringing her gaze to mine. Confusion swims in her blue eyes.

“I can explain,” I say, hearing the beseeching note in the words.

“This...” Her voice is hoarse, like she’s been at a rock concert, screaming for hours. “This looks just like the mask he was wearing.”

I don’t ask who he is. I already know. And it won’t be long until she does too.

She holds up the mask. “Why do you have this? Where did you get it? Do you know who he is?” Her eyes widen. “Is this...” She shakes her head. “It can’t be yours.”

“I can explain,” I say again.

“But you were wearing a jester’s mask at the ball.”

“It broke.”

“It broke,” she echoes, barely a whisper of sound.

Tilting my head toward the mask in her hand, I say, “That was my replacement.”

“But I saw you.” She shakes her head, back and forth, as if she’s trying to jiggle a memory loose. “I saw you talking to Leo and Tessa, and you were wearing a jester’s mask.”

“That wasn’t me.” I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts and my courage. “I’m the guy in the white wolf mask. The one you ran into in the garden. The one with the lost cufflink.”

I reach for the mask but she jerks it away from me and hugs it against her chest. “You... We ...” She licks her lips. “No.”

“Yes.” My throat is so dry I can barely speak, but I manage to squeeze out the most important words: “I’m the guy you had sex with. The one who got you pregnant.”

The wolf mask slips from her hands and falls to the floor.

“I’m the father of your baby, Cassie.”

*****

CASSIE

I stare down at the white wolf mask. I stare at it for so long my vision blurs, and I sway dizzily. I’m vaguely aware of Marco hooking his arm around my waist and guiding me to the velvet-upholstered bench tucked along the back wall of the closet, cursing the entire time. 

I can’t take my eyes away from the mask. The slanted eye holes are empty and gaping, exactly the way I feel right now. 

Marco squats in front of me, blocking my view of the mask. He puts two fingers under my chin and tilts my face up. “Look at me, bellezzina. Please.”

Lifting my gaze, I look at him and think back to that night of the masquerade ball. “Put it on,” I say.

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Put it on.” I can hear the edge of hysteria in my voice, and I’m sure he can too. “The mask. Put it on.”

“Cassie—”

“Do it!” I shriek.

He slowly rises to his full height, his broad shoulders rigid under the autographed Muse T-shirt he picked up in São Paulo a few years ago when he attended a concert. He looms over me like a massive shadow before spinning on his heel and snatching the mask from the floor.

I watch him as he holds the mask to his face with one big hand and tugs the tied ribbons over his dark hair. After adjusting the fit, he drops his hands to his sides and stands silently in front of me. I can see his clenched jaw below the edge of the mask, a muscle ticking under the dark stubble.

As I stare at him, tears prickle the backs of my eyes. I was so stupid. So blind.

Wolf reminded me of Marco because he was Marco. 

I swallow thickly. “You’re Wolf.”

“Yes,” he answers, nodding curtly. “And you’re Bumblebee.”

“Did you know it was me?”

Grasping the black ribbons tied behind his head, he jerks off the mask and lets it dangle from his fingers. “No.” His voice is clipped. Angry. “I had no idea. You were supposed to be in Italy. With your boyfriend.”

I wanted Marco to say yes. I wanted him to say that he wanted me and not just a quick, meaningless fuck with a stranger. Thinking about my husband and all the nameless, faceless women he’s been with makes my stomach cramp with a bitter mix of anger and jealousy.

My feelings don’t make sense, I know that. But they’re still there, churning inside me like some kind of noxious witch’s brew.

“I didn’t realize it was you until you told me about the guy in the white wolf mask.”

Unable to look at him any longer, I close my eyes for a long blink and lean my head back against the wall. “I bet you were shocked when you figured out I was talking about you. You must’ve been horrified when you realized I was pregnant with your baby.”

“I wasn’t horrified, Cassie. I was happy. Elated.”

I open my eyes and meet his gaze head on. “If you were so elated, Marco, why didn’t you let me in on the secret? Why didn’t you say, ‘Guess what? I’m your baby daddy!’”

“I should have. I wanted to. I just couldn’t find the right time.”

“You had plenty of time to tell me. Months.”

“I said I couldn’t find the right time,” he snaps.

“What would be the right time? After the baby’s born and someone mentions how much she looks like you?”

He sighs loudly, the noise heavy with annoyance. “I was going to tell you today.” He tosses the wolf mask into the open box with a snap of his wrist. “I apologize for not doing it sooner. But now that you know, we can put the past behind us and move forward.”

“Move forward,” I repeat.

He nods. “We’re married. We’re expecting a child in just a few short months. Now you won’t have to worry about putting my name on the birth certificate because I am the biological father.”

He paces closer to the bench where I’m sitting and stops in front of me. “We should be thinking about the future, like what we’re going to call our daughter. What do you think of Sofia? It was my grandmother’s name.”

His attempt to deflect my anger is so transparent I almost laugh. But all my humor drains away when I realize that’s exactly what he’s been doing since he realized I was pregnant with his child—deflecting. Instead of telling me the truth, he espoused his love for me and my unborn baby and convinced me to marry him.

I gasp as the realization slices into me like a rusty razor blade. I clutch my baby bump, the agony of Marco’s duplicity almost doubling me over.

“Cassie!” He sits down next to me on the bench and places his hand over mine. “Are you in pain? Is it the baby?”

I’m not surprised when I hear panic and terror in his voice. I have no doubt he loves this baby, just as I have no doubt he doesn’t love me.

Pushing his hand away, I stand and stare down at him. I see the face I’ve dreamed about for more than a year. I see the eyes I gazed into when I said my vows. I see the mouth that lied every time it formed the words I love you.

“I knew this was too good to be true,” I say, bitterness leaking through my voice like toxic waste seeps into groundwater. 

His forehead creases with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Me. You.” I point back and forth between us. “This was too good to be true. This was my fantasy—me loving you, and you loving me back. My fantasy became my reality, except the reality of being with you was so much better than I ever imagined.” I shake my head. “You were so convincing. But now I know—you were pretending.”

“Pretending?” His frown deepens as confusion spreads across his face. “What do you mean?”

Tears are streaming out of my eyes, and there’s a small part of me that wants to hide how much he hurt me, so he won’t be able to do it again. But the rest of me is too wrecked to care.

“I believed everything you said. But you were lying the whole time.”

“I never lied to you.” A flush darkens his skin. “I just didn’t tell you the truth.”

I swipe my fingers across my wet eyes. “You lied to me when you said you were in love with me.”

He shoots to his feet, almost vibrating with emotion. “That wasn’t a lie. It was the truth!”

“You didn’t marry me because you loved me!”

“Yes, I did!” he shouts.

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I—”

Raising my voice above his, I say, “I know you, Marco. You’d never, ever allow your child to be born outside of marriage. You married me because I’m pregnant. That’s the only reason.”

He looks up at the ceiling and takes several deep breaths before bringing his gaze back to me. “It’s one of the reasons, yes,” he admits, his voice much quieter than before. “But it’s not the only reason. I would’ve married you even if you weren’t pregnant, Cassie. Because I love you.”

“You can stop pretending now, okay? You got what you wanted—the baby will be legitimate. I might even agree to name her after your grandmother. But I refuse to live in this house with you. I’m going back to my apartment. And as soon as the baby’s born, I’m going to file for divorce.”