Chapter 4

Miah wrapped her arms around her mother, feeling her own heart break as memories of happier times flooded her mind. It wasn't fair for her mother, who had always loved and supported them, to lose her home and business. "Mirabella's home, Mom, and she has good news: she's met someone serious—"

Her mother looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, and Mirabella and I have sorted something out with the money too," Miah said vaguely. "You might not have to sell the house."

"That's not possible," Jessa exclaimed.

"Miracles can happen," Miah said, thinking of ways to secure financial arrangements based on their earnings.

She was surprised by her own boldness. She was usually the sensible one, avoiding risks. But family came first, and she wanted to help her mother and resolve the divorce settlement. As they drove home, Miah struggled with her thoughts. Was she willing to marry Alexander Bluemoon, or had she given her mother false hope?

A few minutes after she walked in, Mirabella whispered in Miah's ear while she was busy preparing supper. "I got a call from Bluemoon's lawyer while you were out! Alexander Bluemoon wants to meet me before the wedding. You have to decide if you'll help Mom or not!"

Feeling pressured, Miah thought about Mirabella's baby and doubted if her twin was ready to handle the pregnancy alone if things went wrong with the father. Unlike Mirabella, Miah didn't have a relationship that could be affected by marriage. She had once secretly liked Mirabella's boyfriend, Patrick, and had tried dating but was put off by modern dating expectations. Unlike Mirabella, who dated freely, Miah preferred quality over quantity and was often alone. Family meant everything to Miah, and watching hers fall apart had tortured her. Now Mirabella had given her the power to change things. Could she go against her principles and marry for money? Even if she didn't benefit personally, was it still wrong? With this option, could she turn her back on the chance to solve her mother's problems?

On the other hand, Miah reasoned, money would not bring her father home or cure her mother’s pain, but it would certainly help the older woman to adjust to her altered future if it allowed her to remain in her childhood home and retain her business. On that optimistic thought, Miah squashed the doubts bubbling up frantically to the surface of her mind. Pretending to be some man’s wife would be a challenge, but the return of some semblance of normality to her mother’s life would be worth it. On reaching that conclusion, Miah came to a swift decision and gave Mirabella the answer she most wanted to hear.

*****

Bluemoon Pack,

With a frown, Alpha Alexander examined the studio photo for the tenth time that morning. Miah Baker was attractive, but she didn't appeal to him.

Alexander, usually decisive, was experiencing doubt. He realised his lawyers hadn't researched Miah's background thoroughly, and he planned to rectify that. But beyond that, he simply wasn't attracted to her. But of course, he wasn't surprised by that; Miah Baker was a human, and it was seldom—in fact, it was very rare—for an alpha to find a human mate. He sighed, shaking his head, but it was for good cause. It was all for his nana.

He had reviewed her interviews and psychological profile, but the more he learned, the less he wanted to marry her, even temporarily. She met all his criteria on paper: attractive, educated, sophisticated, and elegant. However, he had overlooked what was inside. Miah was selfish, vain, not very intelligent despite her education, and emotionally distant. However, since when had he wanted emotion involved in a relationship with a woman? Alexander asked himself with derision.

But then, never before had he been confronted in advance by so many unpalatable facts about a woman’s character. Furthermore, Ysabelle was nobody’s fool and was almost certain to spot the ugly truth below the pretty surface show of such a wife. That was why Alexander had decided that he had to meet his chosen bride in person rather than risk compounding his mistake by marrying her sight unseen in a week’s time. He didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He could always cancel the contract if she didn’t come up to scratch in the flesh. He cursed under his breath, wondering if all his carefully laid plans were about to come to nothing.

*****

Italy, a few days later.

"Oh my God. Mirabella, this just isn't me, this is is....." Miah sighed, looking at herself in the mirror with critical eyes.

"You're not supposed to be you, you're supposed to be me—at least in appearance!" Mirabella argued. "You can't show up in some cheap outfit when I was supposed to choose a new wardrobe for you before the wedding and give you the money for it. I'll have to give you almost all my clothes to pull off this disguise."

Feeling her twin's resentment, Miah said, "I don't want your clothes because they're not my style—"

"You don't have a style," her more fashionable sister replied sharply. "You wear cheap, comfortable clothes, and that's not what a rich man expects. If you're going to pull off this pretence, you have to get the image right."

She groaned, “If you added a set of wings, I’d look just like a fairy off a Christmas tree!” Miah exclaimed in mortification, twirling so that the short skirt of the black dress flew out and exposed the cerise-pink layers of net edged with lace beneath. The net was scratchy and uncomfortable, and the towering pink peep-toe shoes she also wore forced her to walk in little, mincing steps. Plus, she was a good deal curvier than her sister, and her breasts were straining against the snug fit of the bodice. “This dress is too small for me!”

“It’s fine. I have a much slimmer figure. You can’t expect the dress to look as good on you as it does on me. Try to remember that it’s not cool to stuff yourself if there’s food around,” Mirabella reprimanded her. “You’re welcome to my clothes. After all, I am pregnant, and they won’t fit me much longer. Make sure you don’t lose that coat by leaving it somewhere. There are thieves everywhere.”

A towering man, who was as tall as he was broad, came to the door of Mirabella’s apartment to announce that a car was waiting downstairs for Miah. Mirabella was careful to stay out of sight. He had a heavy accent and minimal English at his disposal, so Miah’s initial chatty efforts to find out what his name was, how long he had worked for his employer, and where she was going fell on stony ground. During the journey, however, he turned in the front passenger seat, eased open the partition, and pointed carefully to himself. “Bernabe,” he told her, having worked out what she wanted to know.

“Miah,” she responded cheerfully, striving not to surrender to the nervous chill steadily spreading through her. “Are you—um, a werewolf?”

“Yes, miss. You are entering Bluemoon Pack territory.”

“Ah, so—I mean, it's not risky for a human to enter your territory?”

“Well, under different circumstances, it is, but you are our alpha’s guest, do not worry, no one will touch you.”

"Ah, okay.” Miah nodded her head.

An hour later, upon entering Bluemoon territory, the vehicle came to a halt outside a nightclub where a sizable gathering of stylish people were already queuing for entry. With a protective presence by her side, Bernabe swept past the doormen. Mindful of her twin’s strictures about the coat she wore, Miah came to a halt at the cloakroom check and removed the garment, determined to take no risks with it. Bernabe broke into a voluble speech, but she was none the wiser as to what he was telling her, and she passed over the coat.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked the attendant, who was coughing into a handkerchief and shivering in the corner behind the counter.

“I’ve got a rotten cold, and it’s freezing in here,” the human girl spluttered miserably, and Miah felt desperately sorry for her; while she had been a student, she had often worked in low-paid part-time jobs to make ends meet.

“Are you, um, like me?” Miah asked.

“Human?”

She nodded her head.

“There are many of us inside the territory, working—I mean, you know, hoping that maybe one of the Bluemoon guys turned us into one of them.”

Miah widened her eyes. “Really? Do people actually do that? I mean—”

“I understand what you mean,” said the girl as she winked at Miah.

Surrounded by his aides and his entire security team, Alpha Alexander was in a private room watching football on a giant television plasma screen. But the instant his bride-to-be walked through the door, backed by Bernabe, he shook himself, totally forgetting the game.

The unfamiliar words like "exquisite" and "dazzling" briefly illuminated Alexander's usually plain thoughts. He was initially thrown off by the fact that Miah didn't look much like her photo. In person, she was much more than just pretty. She was incredibly feminine, with a lovely heart-shaped face, delicate features, and sea-colored aquamarine eyes that were mysterious and captivating. Her long golden blonde hair cascaded down her back. She was petite, with the dress accentuating her tiny waist and the curves above it. His gaze lingered on her full lips and the curves of her breasts. The tension in his groin shifted to a strong arousal, and his initial hesitation disappeared. The photo had not done her justice: she was stunning and very attractive.

When Miah Baker saw the big, dark male sprawled on the sofa, she fell still and had to be urged forward. In slow motion, he came fluidly upright, well over six feet of long, lean, powerfully built masculinity unfolding before her intimidated gaze. He was a stunningly handsome guy. Black hair was brushed back from his lean, bronzed face, which was dissected by the arrogant blade of his nose and complemented by high, carved cheekbones and an aggressive jaw line. Her ability to swallow and breathe was arrested while she stood there staring. He was blatantly male at an age when that primal attribute was becoming more and more rare. Glittering, very dark eyes flared down into hers, and her heart succumbed to a nervous bounce behind her ribcage.