3. Cole

Leaning back in my chair and listening to the familiar squeeze reassured me I was still in control of some aspects of my life. Father hated my old office chair and told me to get a new one. He sent me links and pics and even ordered one, but it arrived when he was out, and I gave it to Molly who then handed it off to the butler who had back problems.

I shook my head and twisted around, enjoying the chair's groaning. To think that an old chair gave me confidence that I was able to make my own decisions. I sighed. If only that were possible.

Grabbing the desk, I yanked myself forward and picked up the folder, bulging with papers, photos, and bank balances. How in the heck did Father's people doing deep dives and background checks get my intended's bank balance?

Hacking, I supposed. Let's hope they were good at their job and wouldn't get caught. I didn't want to be hauled off to court and jailed. I tapped my lips and pondered my choices. Being in jail might be a better option than an arranged marriage. I researched how to report a crime anonymously but decided I wouldn't get Molly's chocolate cake in prison.

I giggled as I pictured Molly bringing me cake while I was behind bars, with a file hidden inside. Not the type of file to hack my way through the bars and escape. Nope, it'd be one of Father's lists on how to make contacts with underworld head honchos while in prison.

Wedding preparation.

The words were emblazoned on the file, and I flipped it open. There were no pics, which was odd, and only a first name: Henri. That was probably done on purpose so I couldn't look the guy up online. If I set my mind to it, using all the information in front of me, I could find my intended. But what was the point? I'd meet him soon enough when he waltzed down the aisle.

Mate?my bear inquired.

Nope.

But as long as my husband-to-be didn't stick with me every hour of the day, I could maintain a double life. One with my fated, who I was yet to meet, and the other a public-facing relationship just for show. And money. And power.

I slammed my fist on the desk and some of the papers flew into the air before fluttering gently onto the wooden surface. Picking them up, I shuffled a few and read some of the details.

Oh, he was a shifter. My father didn't tell me that. That made the marriage so much easier. My husband would be searching for his fated while I was on the lookout for mine. This was perfect. We'd have an understanding that our marriage was in name only. I was buoyed by the news and bopped around the desk, shaking my ass.

It was the next best thing to finding my intended mate. Maybe we could help one another? One could act as a scout or we would trawl through dating apps together. We'd be more like besties than husbands. Or maybe brothers. I'd yearned for a sibling growing up.

Images flashed into my head of my husband and me going incognito and casing out clubs and parties, going on ski parties with the rich and famous while searching for our one and only. But there was a problem associated only with the wealthy and well-connected. What if my mate was a teacher, nurse, or janitor? I'd never find them sipping cocktails in a mountain resort.

Damn. We'd have to be more inclusive in our search.

The door opened. Father never knocked because he was the king.

"Still using that damned chair," he snarled, his eyes more bear than human.

"Good morning, Your Majesty." I stood and bowed. On our first encounter each day, I had to address my father formally and nod. But subsequent meetings were more relaxed and I referred to him as Father.

"What do you think?" He jerked his head at the notes I was holding.

I didn't want to sound too enthusiastic. "Not bad."

Father jabbed his hand at the papers. He loathed anything less than glowing reviews. "The guy's a shifter. What could be better than that?"

My omega dad was a shifter too, but that didn't guarantee a happy ever after.

"He's promising."

I didn't go into details about my plans for my husband-to-be, my wingman in our mating game. The king was a shitty father and not a loving mate, but he didn't have a string of lovers that I was aware of. Not that he'd tell me if he had, because based on my father's thinking, I could weaponize that information against him.

"It doesn't mention what kind of shifter. Is he a bear?" Not that it mattered but hunting together was easier if we were similar and not a wolf and a hedgehog or a bunny.

Father furrowed his brow, and his clenched jaw indicated he didn't want to respond and he was irritated I'd put him on the spot.

"What does it matter? You're both shifters. You're an alpha, he's an omega."

So my intended wasn't a bear but Father refused to tell me what he was because he thought I'd disapprove? A shifter was a shifter. And if the guy had been human, that was fine too but I would have either hidden my true identity or done the big reveal.

"Okay." I could almost see the steam curling from Father's ears. Best not to get him annoyed and have him blow up at me.

"You have a fitting this afternoon."

I nodded. There was no need to ask about the ceremony or the reception afterward. Everything, including the flowers, food, music and guests, would be taken care of by Father's minions. I didn't give a damn if the wedding cake was two tiers or twenty.

"Don't forget you need a haircut." He scratched his chin. "And maybe cut down on the chocolate c–" The words died in his throat as my bear snarled at him. He may have been king and my father, but he didn't get to tell me what to eat or comment on my weight.

"Okay, fine," and he stormed out.