NOT REALLY YOURS

I have eight weeks to become a woman Rourke Kavanagh has never once let himself want.
I catalog dead men's letters for a living. Quiet work, careful work — the kind that let me hide in the stacks of the Kavanagh family archive and never once wonder why the coldest man in the city insisted on hiring me himself. Then his grandfather's will landed like a verdict: marry within the year, or lose the company to the brother who's already circling. Rourke doesn't do trust. He doesn't do warmth. But he does do control, and he decides — with the same flat, terrifying certainty he decides everything — that I will do.
A fake fiancée. Eight weeks of performance before the centennial gala that will either save his empire or end it. A contract, a ring, a price that clears my father's debts and keeps the bookshop that's all I have left of him.
I know how to play a part convincingly. What I don't know is what to do when the man who was never supposed to touch me starts looking at me like I'm the only unclaimed thing left in his life — and taking, slowly, deliberately, everything I didn't know I was still saving.
He thinks I'm exactly what I appear to be. He has no idea what I'm really doing in his archive, or whose name I'm looking for in his family's buried correspondence. If he finds out before the gala, I lose more than the money. I lose him.
Rourke Kavanagh doesn't share, doesn't soften, and doesn't forgive being lied to. I'm running out of time to decide which one of us breaks first.
Tropes: Fake Engagement, Grumpy/Cold Alpha Hero, Innocent Heroine, Hidden Identity, Possessive/Obsessive Hero, Slow-Burn to High Heat
This title contains explicit adult content intended for readers 18+