A Loveless Contract: Marrying My Secret Crush

"Stop the music."

Frankie's voice ripped through the heavy, solemn notes of the pipe organ echoing across the vaulted ceilings of St. Patrick's Cathedral. He burst through the heavy oak side doors, his chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead. He ignored the gasps of the five hundred guests and sprinted straight down the center aisle toward the altar.

Blair Glover sat in the sixth row. Her fingers gripped the silk fabric of her bridesmaid dress so tightly her knuckles turned a stark, bone white. Her stomach dropped.

Frankie reached the altar and grabbed Judge Harrell's shoulder. He leaned in, his voice a frantic, breathless whisper against Judge's ear.

Judge didn't flinch. But the muscles in his jaw instantly locked into a hard, rigid line. His dark eyes narrowed, the temperature in them dropping to absolute zero.

In the front row, Add Harrell noticed the shift. The patriarch of the Harrell family planted his gold-tipped cane against the marble floor and pushed himself up to a stand.

Frankie pulled a crumpled piece of stationery from his tuxedo pocket and shoved it into Add's hand. Add read the words. The blood drained from his face, leaving behind a terrifying, mottled red of pure fury.

The silence in the cathedral shattered. Whispers spread through the pews like a physical wave of heat.

Blair's heart hammered against her ribs. It beat so hard she could feel it in her throat. Willa was gone. The bride had run.

Add stepped closer to his son. He kept his voice low, but the absolute rage in his tone carried to the first few rows. "Fix this, Judge. I don't care if you have to pull a woman off the street. You will complete this ceremony. The trust fund requires a marriage today. You will not humiliate this family. I will handle the Archbishop later."

Judge let out a harsh, humorless breath. He raised his large hands and slowly loosened his custom Tom Ford tie. He turned his body, his shoulders squared, preparing to walk right down the steps and leave the disaster behind.

Blair stared at the broad line of his back. Five years. She had filled three journals with his name. She had watched him from the edges of every high society room, entirely invisible to him.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip until the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue.

She stood up.

Next to her, Joelle gasped and grabbed her wrist. "Blair, what are you doing?"

Blair yanked her arm free. She grabbed handfuls of her heavy, layered skirt and stepped out of the pew, directly into the center aisle.

Her heels clicked against the polished marble. The sound was deafening. One step. Then another.

Hundreds of eyes snapped toward her. She felt the weight of their shock and disgust pressing against her skin, making it hard to pull air into her lungs. She kept her eyes locked on the altar.

Two massive bodyguards in black suits stepped into the aisle, blocking her path.

Judge turned his head. He looked at the bodyguards and gave a single, sharp flick of his wrist. They stepped aside.

Blair stopped at the bottom of the altar steps. She tilted her head back, forcing herself to meet Judge's eyes. His gaze was heavy, suffocating, and entirely devoid of warmth.

She forced air into her chest. Her voice shook, but she pushed the words out. "If you just need a bride to satisfy the trust fund..."

She curled her hands into tight fists at her sides. Her fingernails dug crescent moons into her palms.

"I can do it."

A collective gasp sucked the oxygen out of the cathedral. Add Harrell frowned, his eyes raking over her like she was a pest that had wandered indoors.

Judge stared down at her. He didn't look surprised. A flicker of recognition, quickly masked, crossed his features as he looked at her the way a man evaluates a piece of real estate he already owns. Cold. Calculating.

His eyes dropped to her eyelashes. They were trembling.

A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of his mouth. He took a slow step down the stairs, stopping when the toes of his shoes were mere inches from hers.

"Do you have any idea what this means, Miss Glover?" His voice was a low, gravelly scrape that vibrated right through her chest.

Blair didn't blink. She nodded once, a sharp, jerky movement.

Judge held her gaze for one more second before turning his head toward the sweating priest. "Continue the ceremony."

The priest wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, fumbled with his Bible, and started reading the vows at double speed.

When it was time for the rings, Judge took the massive, flawless diamond meant for Willa. He grabbed Blair's left hand. His fingers were freezing. He slid the metal over her knuckle.

It slid perfectly into place. It fit.

"You may kiss the bride," the priest rushed out.

Judge leaned down. Blair's breath hitched. His lips, cool and firm, brushed the very corner of her mouth. It wasn't a real kiss, but the brief contact sent a violent shiver down her spine.

Before she could process the feeling, the heavy oak doors at the back of the cathedral slammed open with a deafening crash.

"Blair!"

Blair ripped her eyes away from Judge. Her older brother, Mitch, stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, looking like he was ready to kill someone.