You and Rafe had known each other since childhood, not by choice but by circumstance. Your fathers were business partners—powerful men in an empire built on secrecy, control, and fear. Their organization wasn’t just some company; it was a network that ran deep in the underworld. You grew up surrounded by hushed conversations, guarded compounds, and the unspoken understanding that loyalty was everything.

And then there was Rafe. The Kook prince, the golden boy with a sharp tongue and an even sharper temper. You weren’t exactly friends, more like two people forced into the same space too often, he was around three years older. He teased, you fired back. He got under your skin, and you made sure to get under his. It was a game—one you both played well.

Now, years later, you found yourself sitting at a long, polished dinner table in the Camerons’ grand estate. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with cigar smoke and the weight of business discussions. You had been through these family dinners before, but tonight felt different. Heavier.

Ward Cameron sat at the head of the table, swirling his glass of bourbon before finally speaking. “It’s time to strengthen this alliance,” he said smoothly, his eyes shifting between you and Rafe. “An official bond between our families. A marriage.”

Silence. You felt your stomach drop.

“You’re joking,” Rafe said flatly, setting down his glass a little too hard.

“I don’t joke about business,” Ward replied, unfazed. “The arrangement is already in place. You two will be married by the end of the year. We’ve secured an estate in the countryside—secluded, near the lake and the mountains. The perfect place to settle and uphold the family’s interests.”

Rafe let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair before turning to you. “So, what? We just play house now?” His voice held that familiar edge—part annoyance, part disbelief. “This is insane.”

But deep down, you both knew there was no way out. Rafe wasn’t worried about him, he was worried about you.