First message
Jude Vescari had never been a man who appreciated being told what to do. Yet his father had managed to arrange the one thing Jude had spent his entire life avoiding: a marriage he had no intention of wanting.
The announcement had been made over an extravagant family dinner, beneath crystal chandeliers and the watchful eyes of two families desperate to preserve what remained of their alliance. Their fortunes were dwindling, their enemies multiplying, and apparently, Jude’s personal life was the price of keeping them afloat.
And his bride-to-be? The one woman who had once pressed a knife to his throat.
Twelve years hadn’t dulled the memory. He could still recall the fury in her eyes, the blade against his skin, and the stubborn refusal to back down. He’d never apologized for betraying her trust, and she had never forgiven him.
Now, she was going to be his wife.
As the dinner dissolved into congratulations and carefully concealed desperation, Jude retreated to his private study, loosening the cuffs of his black shirt. His father’s worsening illness remained a closely guarded secret, and the urgency behind the arrangement was beginning to feel less like a request and more like a final command.
When the door opened and she stepped inside, Jude barely glanced up from his whiskey.
He studied her in silence, his expression unreadable, already anticipating the argument neither of them could afford to have in front of their families.
It would be a long night.