TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: A DANGEROUS DEAL

EMBER’S POV

My brain stutters.

“Fake girlfriend?” I repeat. “As in… pretend we’re dating?”

Knox smiles like a wolf who’s just cornered a rabbit. “You catch on fast, Ember.”

The car slides through the icy city, neon and halogen smearing the windows. I half expect him to take it back, say it’s a joke, but King Knox is not a man who jokes.

I stare at his profile–clean, sharp, intimidating as hell–and the last few hours tumble through my head like dice in a rigged game.

I crossed a line with this man. Lines don’t matter to him. He just redraws them to suit

himself.

“I don’t get it,” I say, and my voice sounds thin, even to me. “Why me? You could have anyone

He cuts a look my way, ice–blue and amused.

“That’s exactly why it’ll work. No one expects me to pick the omega wife of my own subordinate, especially not after tonight’s little airport meltdown.”

He’s right. It’s the kind of power move that’d keep every rumor mill spinning for months.

“But you don’t even know me,” I protest.

“I know enough.” His eyes rake over me deliberately. “I know you’re smart enough to recognize an opportunity when you see one. Beautiful enough to make every alpha in that room jealous when I walk in with you on my arm.” He leans closer. “And I know I want to fuck you again. Everything else is just details.”

I cross my arms, suddenly aware of how tight my sweater is. My cheeks burn.

“It’s only for a week,” Knox says. “One week of holding hands at events and letting everyone believe you’re my latest obsession. In exchange, you get protection, money, and I’ll make sure Gale never bothers you again. If you want the divorce, I’ll sign the paperwork myself. No strings.”

A short laugh escapes me. “So your solution to my cheating husband problem is to become a kept woman for a week. That’s genuinely your best idea?”

He shrugs, though his gaze stays intense.

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“The Christmas Summit starts tomorrow. You want to face Gale and his lawyers alone? Or do you want to walk into that resort on my arm and make him shit himself in front of every pack alpha on the continent?”

I go silent. The car’s heater is blasting, but my hands are cold.

“What’s the catch?” I ask, because there’s always a catch.

Knox leans in, voice dropping. “You do what I say. No arguments. That includes in public and in private. If you’re not up for the full girlfriend experience, find another sugar daddy, princess.

His eyes drop to my mouth, linger there a half–second too long.

I can’t breathe.

He means sex.

Of course he does.

He wants me as a prop, a property, and a fuck toy all rolled into one neat little package. The thought should make me sick. Instead, it sends a pulse of heat straight through my body, turning my bones to jelly.

Sapphire is purring inside me, little traitor.

I open my mouth to argue, but the car is already slowing, pulling up a long drive lined with glittering evergreens. At the end of the lane, a building rises out of the darkness–gargantuan, all glass and intimidating angles, every window ablaze with light.

Mystic Fire Winter Resort.

A valet sprints to open the car door and the cold night air slaps my face, shocking me into the present. Knox is out first, tossing keys to the valet and dropping a bill that looks suspiciously like a hundred.

He circles the car to my side and offers a hand. I ignore it, because if I touch him, I might forget how to walk.

He doesn’t seem to mind. His hand settles on the small of my back, pushing me forward. The entryway is a study in opulence–high glass ceilings, enormous stone fireplace, entire trees inside the lobby hung with silver ornaments and glass moons.

There’s a hush, the way there always is before a bloodbath.

The desk clerk looks up and goes pale, like she’s seeing a ghost. Behind her, two men in tailored suits glance over and immediately drop their voices. I’m not an idiot. Every eye in the place is on Lycan King Knox Volkov. And, by extension, on me.

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We cross the lobby, past more security than an airport, and into a private elevator. The doors slide shut with a hiss. Knox hits the button for the top floor and lets out a slow exhale.

“Relax,” he says, glancing sidelong at me.

“I am relaxed,” I lie, voice strangled.

His eyes sweep down my body and linger at my legs, and then he leans in, nose almost brushing my ear.

“You’re still wet, Ember. You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”

My face goes thermonuclear.

He chuckles. “We’ll have to do something about that when we get to the suite.”

The doors open onto a private corridor carpeted in black. At the end, double doors. Knox pushes them open without ceremony.

The penthouse is a cathedral of luxury–windows floor to ceiling, a view of the snow–drowned valley, a modern fireplace already burning, and a bar stocked with more liquor than I could drink in a decade.

“Of course.” I remember her from the pack newsletters. Supermodel, business mogul, former girlfriend of the Lycan King. Most gorgeous woman alive, according to Cosmo and every shifter gossip site. “She’s your ex.”

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