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Chapter three

Matty

The water turned tepid before I could bring myself to get out of the bath.

My skin was wrinkly, but I'd needed that time to process everything.

Today I'd married a complete stranger—a hulking, bearded biker who was nothing like I'd expected.

Who'd held me through a panic attack without judgment.

Who'd made me eggs when I couldn't eat pizza.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and realized I hadn't brought clean clothes with me. Taking a deep breath, I cracked the bathroom door open.

"Novo?" I called softly.

"Yeah?" His deep voice came from the living room.

"I, um, I need to get to my bedroom."

"Go ahead," he answered, and I heard the television volume lower slightly.

I dashed across the hall to my bedroom, clutching the towel tightly.

Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, heart pounding.

On my bed lay a neatly folded t-shirt and a pair of soft sleep pants I didn't even remember owning.

Next to them sat a small stuffed dog—the one Ricky had given me last Christmas that I usually forced myself to keep in my dresser drawer.

Which meant Novo had gone through my things.

A wave of shame washed over me, followed by a surge of anger.

Who did he think he was, rummaging through my personal belongings?

Contract or no contract, we'd just met. There were boundaries. I stared at the dog like it was going to develop teeth and bite me. I’d nearly taken him to a charity shop at first, but Ricky had been nice to me.

They’d even invited me to Christmas dinner, but I’d lied and said I was with other friends.

Which was stupid because I didn’t have any other friends.

No other friends.

I sat on the bed and clutched the dog to me, like I had more nights than I cared to admit.

Boarding school had been dog eat dog–no joke. Survival of the fittest, and the biggest lesson I had learned was how to be a bully. I might not have been able to use my fists, but I’d soon found out words were often more effective weapons.

I kept my head down in college, then decided to take my cash and travel.

Because obviously getting a job wasn’t for the likes of me.

I pressed my lips together as my throat got tight.

I’d followed so-called friends to Atlanta, then got bored and visited a BDSM club.

It had been like falling down a rabbit hole, except the Dom I’d fallen for hadn’t wanted me in the end because I was too much of a brat.

Apparently, I wouldn’t know what submission was if it hit me in the face.

So, what did I do?

Look for a smaller club. But not to learn my lesson, no I was far too good for that. I wanted to be a big fish in a small pond, as an older Daddy Dom once said to me.

And look how that had turned out?

I'd watched as all the subs got their Doms, and none of them had ever been interested in me. I'd treated Rowan abominably because I wanted his Dom, and even after all that he'd been nice to me.

I dressed quickly, the soft fabric comforting against my clean skin. I held Patches in my hands, debating whether to put him back in the drawer. Would Novo think it was stupid? Childish?

I wiped my face, surprised to feel it wet. Novo had been in here, laying out clothes for me like... like a real Daddy would. And he'd found Patches, so he must have intended for me to use him.

It had been Ricky's idea to advertise for a Daddy Dom and not just a Dom. Said I needed looking after.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my bedroom door and padded into the living room, Patches clutched against my chest.

Novo was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I entered, his eyes taking in the pajamas, my damp hair, and Patches in my arms. Something softened in his expression.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded, hovering uncertainly. "Thank you for the clothes."

"You're welcome. You feeling up to eating a little more? I saved you some pizza."

"Maybe a small piece," I said, surprised to find I actually was hungry again.

He patted the cushion next to him. "Sit. I'll heat it up."

I perched on the sofa, setting Patches beside me as Novo went to the kitchen. When he returned with a plate and glass of water, his eyes fell on the stuffed dog.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, nodding toward Patches as he handed me the plate.

I felt my cheeks warm. "Ricky gave him to me. His name is Patches." I flushed. Why did I say that? I didn’t even name him. Ricky did.

Novo settled back on the sofa, keeping a respectful distance. "Nice to meet you, Patches," he said seriously, and I nearly choked on my bite of pizza.

"He’s not mine," I rushed out. “Ricky gave him to me,” I repeated.

Novo's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted. "Well, he's here now. And he looks like he's been loved."

I glanced down at Patches with his slightly matted, worn ear. "I... make sure he’s out if Ricky comes around," I lied, then immediately regretted it. What did it matter what I did with a stupid stuffed dog? I certainly wasn’t about to admit he’d spent any time in my bed.

"Nothing wrong with that," Novo said, his voice matter-of-fact. "I've got a buddy in the club who's a combat vet. Sleeps with a stuffed bear his daughter gave him."

I blinked, trying to imagine an intimidating biker like Novo cuddling a teddy bear. The mental image almost made me smile.

"What?" Novo asked, catching my expression.

"Nothing," I said quickly, taking another bite of pizza to avoid answering.

Novo watched me eat for a moment, then cleared his throat. "So, sleeping arrangements. Like you said, there's only one bedroom."

My stomach clenched. "I have a folding bed," I said, nodding toward the closet. "I was going to set it up out here."

"No," Novo said firmly. "You'll take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"But—"

"This isn't up for debate, Matty." His tone was gentle but left no room for argument. "You've had a rough day, and you need proper rest."

I stared at him, trying to understand what his angle was. Carrington had insisted on sharing the bed from day one, claiming it was part of maintaining our cover. And James... I shuddered slightly at the memory.

"I'm too big for your bed anyway," Novo added with a slight shrug. "My feet would hang off the end."

That was probably true. My queen-sized bed would be cramped for someone of his size. Still, I felt guilty. "The couch isn't very comfortable, and not much longer."

"I've slept in worse places," he said simply. "Finish your pizza, then we should both get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be busy."

"Busy?"

"Yeah. I need to get some of my things. We need to sort out how this living situation is going to work, and..." He paused, studying me. "We should probably talk more about expectations. For both of us."

I nodded, my appetite suddenly diminished again. I set the half-eaten slice down. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you agree to this?" I gestured vaguely between us. "To marry me, I mean. Ricky said you weren't even registered with the agency."

Something flickered across Novo's face, too quick for me to identify. "Money," he said after a brief pause. "Two million is a lot of cash."

"Oh." I felt my face heat. What a stupid question. Of course, it was the money. "Why else would someone marry a stranger?" I added, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

Novo was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes studying me. "Why did you pick me? After what happened with the others, you must have been scared."

I picked Patches up and clutched him to me, finding comfort in his soft fur.

"Ricky and Calvin vouched for you. And..

." I hesitated, not wanting to admit how desperate I'd become.

"I'm running out of time. The trust fund terms state I have to be married for two years before my thirtieth birthday.

That's less than twenty-six months away now. "

"And if you don't make it?"

"Everything goes to Harold," I whispered. "My parents' entire estate."

Novo's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "How much are we talking about?"

I shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. The lawyers said it's several million plus properties. My parents were well-off." I picked at a loose thread on Patches' ear. "Not that I care about the money itself. I just don't want him to have it."

"You said he's your godfather?"

"He's actually a cousin of my dad's, hence the same last name. He was my father's business partner. When my parents died, he became my guardian. When I was a child I called him Uncle Harold." My voice turned bitter. "Not that he ever acted like family."

Novo nodded slowly, processing this. "And he controls your current finances?"

"He gives me an 'allowance'—barely enough to cover this apartment and food." I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them. "He froze all my accounts two years ago. Said I was being irresponsible with my money."

"Were you?" Novo asked, his voice neutral.

I flinched. "I... I don't know. Maybe? I traveled a lot, spent without thinking." I buried my face against my knees. "I never had to worry about money before."

When I looked up, Novo was watching me with an unreadable expression. "And now you're trying to get your inheritance back with this marriage."

"Yes." I swallowed hard. "I know it sounds... calculated. But I don't have any other choice."

Novo was quiet for a long moment. "We should get some sleep," he finally said, standing up. "We can talk more tomorrow."

I nodded, suddenly exhausted. The emotional toll of the day had drained me completely. "There are extra blankets in the hall closet," I said, getting to my feet. "And pillows."

"I'll find them," Novo assured me. "Go to bed, Matty."

I hesitated, clutching Patches to my chest. "Thank you," I said softly. "For today. For... being kind."

Something flickered in Novo's blue eyes. "Get some rest, boy."

The "boy" sent a strange warmth through me, and I hurried back to my bedroom before he could say anything else. Once inside, I closed the door and slid under the covers, Patches still clutched in my arms.

What was I doing? I'd married a complete stranger—a massive, tattooed biker who could probably snap me in half without breaking a sweat. And yet... the way he'd held me during my panic attack, the gentleness in his hands as he ran my bath, the way he'd called me "boy" in that deep, rumbling voice.

I buried my face in Patches' fur. I couldn't afford to get confused about what this was.

Novo had been clear—he was here for the money.

This was a business arrangement, nothing more.

The fact that he was being kind didn't mean anything.

He was probably just making sure I didn't back out of our deal.

Novo

I scrubbed a hand over my face and stared up at the ceiling. It was true I had slept on much worse than a couch. There’d been plenty of nights I’d been lucky to get any sort of rest on the cold, hard ground, especially with the sound of gunfire keeping everyone very much awake.

But that wasn’t what was keeping me awake right now.

I could easily insist we move to a bigger place by the terms of the contract.

I could take the bed. I’d expected to spend my time plotting revenge from a luxury hotel or penthouse with what I knew of Matthew Coombes, but the Matty I’d met and married yesterday had thrown me.

The spoiled brat I'd been told about and the frightened young man sleeping in the bedroom didn't match.

The modest apartment, the panic attack at the mention of this James Degrassi, the way he clutched that stuffed dog like a lifeline—none of it fit the profile I'd been given.

And Harold Coombes? The more I learned about that bastard, the more I wanted to destroy him.

Not just for what he'd done to my family anymore.

The way Matty talked about him, the fear in his eyes when he mentioned his godfather—it painted a picture of control and manipulation that went beyond mere financial abuse.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Cruise.

Digger's digging. Initial financials look interesting. Coombes has been bleeding the trust dry for years. Legal but sketchy. Will have more tomorrow. Degrassi has a reputation in certain circles. Not good.

I frowned at the screen. If Coombes had been draining the trust, that might explain why he was so desperate to prevent Matty from getting married. It wasn't just about control—it was about money.

And if Degrassi had a bad reputation... I thought of Matty's panic attack, the way he'd trembled at just the mention of the man's name.

I texted him back. Keep digging. Need everything on both.

I set my phone down and listened. The apartment was quiet. I wondered if Matty was actually sleeping or if he was lying awake like me, clutching that stuffed dog and trying to make sense of his new reality.

I hadn't expected to feel protective of him. That wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to marry him, help him get his trust fund, and use my position as his husband to gather dirt on Coombes. My feelings weren't supposed to enter into it at all.

But the way he'd looked at me when I'd helped him through that panic attack—like he couldn't believe someone would actually care enough to help him—had stirred something in me I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I was going to have to be careful. Matthew Coombes was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

There was no way I could afford to catch feelings for him.