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.

Mitch Glover marched down the center aisle. He brought the aggressive, chaotic energy of an NYPD detective straight into the sacred space. His jaw was set, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles popped.

Right behind him, Ezekiel pushed his gold wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, his face a mask of cold fury. Their mother, Helen, trailed behind, her hands pressed to her mouth in horror.

Blair's stomach plummeted. The lingering heat from Judge's lips vanished, replaced by a cold sweat that broke out across the back of her neck.

Judge didn't rush. He slowly straightened his posture and took a deliberate half-step in front of Blair, positioning his broad shoulders between her and her charging brother.

Mitch stopped at the base of the altar. He pointed a thick finger right at Judge's face. "What the hell did you do to her?!"

Instantly, four of Harrell's security men stepped forward. The sound of leather holsters unsnapping echoed sharply in the quiet church.

Judge raised a single hand. The guards froze.

Judge looked down at Mitch, his expression completely bored. "As you can see, we are getting married."

Ezekiel stepped up next to Mitch. His voice was clinical and sharp. "The Glover family does not recognize this circus."

Blair panicked. She stepped out from behind Judge's back, her hands raised. "Mitch, Zeke, stop. I did this. I volunteered-"

Mitch lunged forward and grabbed Blair's wrist. He yanked her toward him. The sudden force jerked her shoulder, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips.

Judge's eyes snapped to Mitch's hand wrapped around Blair's pale skin. The boredom vanished from his face. The temperature around him seemed to plummet.

He took one step down the stairs. His presence was massive, suffocating. "Let go of my wife."

Mitch let out a harsh bark of laughter. He didn't loosen his grip. "She is my sister first."

The two men stared each other down. The air in the cathedral grew so thick it felt hard to breathe.

Add Harrell stepped forward. He slammed his cane against the marble. "Enough! Control your children, Glover. This is not a precinct."

Helen rushed forward, tears welling in her eyes. "Blair, please. Come home with us. You don't know what you're doing."

Blair looked back at Judge. Her chest ached. She needed him to say something. She needed him to pull her back, to claim her.

Judge looked at her. He reached up and adjusted his silver cufflink. The terrifying intensity in his eyes was gone, replaced by a smooth, impenetrable wall.

"Go," Judge said, his voice flat. "Handle your family."

The words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her lungs seized. He didn't care. He had the ring on her finger, the legal requirement met. She was just a problem he didn't want to deal with.

Mitch pulled her hard. Blair stumbled down the last step, her ankle twisting slightly in her heels.

Judge's hands, held firmly at his sides, clenched into fists for a fraction of a second. His eyebrow twitched, a microscopic storm gathering in his eyes before he smoothed his expression back into a mask of indifference.

Mitch dragged her down the aisle. Blair couldn't fight him. Her legs felt like lead. They pushed through the heavy doors and out into the biting New York air.

Mitch shoved her into the back seat of a black SUV parked at the curb. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing her inside.

Mitch rolled down the window and glared at Judge, who was now standing at the top of the cathedral steps. "This isn't over, Harrell."

The SUV's engine roared. The tires screeched against the pavement as it tore away from the plaza, merging violently into the evening traffic.

Judge stood perfectly still on the stone steps. He watched the red taillights disappear into the sea of yellow cabs.

Frankie walked up beside him and pulled a cigar from his pocket. He offered it to Judge. "You're just going to let them take her?"

Judge took the cigar. He didn't look at Frankie. "She'll be back."

He looked down at his right hand. His fingers curled inward, remembering the soft, trembling fabric of her dress against his knuckles.

Judge turned his back on the street and walked back into the hushed cathedral. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Get my lawyers," Judge said into the receiver. "I need a postnup drafted immediately."

The black SUV sped down the Long Island Expressway. The silence inside the car was suffocating.

Blair leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. The city lights blurred into streaks of yellow and white. She rubbed her thumb over the massive diamond on her left ring finger. The metal was heavy, a physical anchor dragging her down into reality.

The SUV turned through the wrought-iron gates of the Glover estate. The tires crunched aggressively over the gravel driveway before slamming to a halt.

Mitch ripped the back door open. He grabbed Blair by the upper arm and practically hauled her out of the vehicle.

He marched her through the grand double doors of the house and shoved her toward the center of the living room. Blair stumbled and fell back onto the tufted leather Chesterfield sofa.

Ezekiel unbuttoned his suit jacket. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her like she was a hostile witness on the stand.

Helen hurried into the room holding a steaming mug of chamomile tea. She tried to set it on the coffee table, but Ezekiel shot her a look that froze her in place.

"Explain," Ezekiel demanded, his voice slicing through the room. "Why were you standing at that altar?"

Blair swallowed hard. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She couldn't tell them the truth. If they knew she had spent the last five years obsessing over Judge Harrell, they would lock her in a psychiatric ward.

She forced her shoulders to relax. She let out a fake, breathless laugh and shrugged. "Willa ran. He looked pathetic standing up there. I figured, why not help a guy out?"

Mitch kicked the heavy wooden leg of the coffee table. The loud thud made Blair jump. "Help him out? You threw your entire life away to do a favor for a billionaire?!"

Blair shrank back into the leather cushions, but she kept her chin up. "Plus... Willa ran. The Harrell family needs a bride to secure their trust fund, and this is my only way into that circle. I don't want to spend my life just scraping by as an unknown artist. I want my own empire, my own connections, and absolute financial freedom. This was a shortcut."

Ezekiel's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Thrilling? You think the Harrell family is a game? Judge will chew you up and spit you out before you even realize you're bleeding."

The heavy oak door of the study opened. Arthur Glover walked out, his face dark with exhaustion and anger.

He stopped in front of Blair. His voice left no room for argument. "Call your lawyer first thing in the morning. You are filing for an annulment."

Bleu stood up from the sofa. Her heart pounded against her ribs. "No! We have already performed the wedding ceremony in the church under the witness of the people. I am his legal wife."

Mitch reached to his belt. He pulled out his metal handcuffs and slammed them onto the glass coffee table. The sharp crack made everyone flinch. "I will chain you to the radiator in your bedroom if I have to."

Helen dropped the tea mug. It shattered on the rug. "Stop it! Both of you, stop treating her like a criminal!"

Taking advantage of the distraction, Blair spun around and sprinted down the hall. She darted into the guest bathroom and slammed the door, twisting the lock just as Mitch's heavy fist hit the wood from the outside.

Blair slid down the door until she hit the tile floor. She pulled her knees to her chest, gasping for air.

Her hands shook violently as she pulled her phone from the hidden pocket of her dress. She opened her messages. Pinned at the very top was Judge's name. A chat history consisting of exactly zero messages.

Her thumbs flew across the screen.

They locked me in the house. They're forcing me to get an annulment.

She hit send.

She stared at the word Delivered under the blue bubble. The seconds ticked by. Each one felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest.

Outside, Mitch pounded on the door again. "Open the door, Blair!"

Three agonizing minutes later, her screen lit up.

A new message from Judge.

Tomorrow at 3 PM.

Blair stared at the screen. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. That was it? No reassurance? No promise to come get her? Just a cold, sterile appointment time?

She bit her lip until she tasted blood again. Hot tears spilled over her eyelashes, burning her cheeks. She felt like an absolute idiot.

The pounding on the door stopped. Ezekiel's calm, terrifying voice filtered through the wood. "Come out, Blair. Father just got off the phone. He demanded Judge come here personally to explain himself."

Blair wiped her face with the back of her hand. She stood up, her legs trembling, and unlocked the door.

She gripped her phone tight. She had to keep playing the game. It was the only way to stay near him.