Flash Marriage To The Secret Zillionaire

The Toyota Camry merged into the congested, honking traffic of Manhattan. Inside the car, the silence was so thick it felt like a physical weight pressing against Blaire's chest. She nervously twisted her fingers together in her lap. From the corner of her eye, she studied Jude in the driver's seat. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles prominent and sharp. Suddenly, Jude pressed a button, rolling down his window completely. The biting autumn wind rushed into the cabin. He needed the freezing air to clear the suffocating, nauseating panic that always crawled over his skin whenever a woman was in close proximity. Blaire shivered as the cold air hit her. Thinking he was too hot, she leaned forward, her hand reaching toward the center console to turn on the air conditioning. "Don't touch me!" Jude barked, his voice cracking like a whip. Blaire violently yanked her hand back. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Heat flooded her cheeks, burning with intense embarrassment. She pressed herself against the passenger door, thinking this man had the worst temper she had ever encountered. Jude realized his reaction was extreme. He forced his breathing to slow, fighting the physical palpitations of his haphephobia. He stared straight at the road and laid down his first absolute rule. "Do not touch me without permission." Blaire bit her lip. Ugh, what a creep, she thought. But outwardly, she gave a stiff, jerky nod. The car rolled to a stop at a red light. Jude slammed his foot on the brake. He turned his head, his piercing eyes locking onto hers, and began to outline the boundaries of their contract. "This marriage is nothing but a piece of paper," he stated, his voice flat. "It's to get my family off my back. We do not interfere in each other's private lives." He leaned slightly closer, his gaze hard. "Do not get any ideas about me. In exactly one year, we divorce." Blaire listened to his intense, overly defensive speech. She remembered the old woman's story about his crushing mortgage and his miserable sales job. A bubble of ironic amusement rose in her throat. She straightened her spine, refusing to be intimidated. "Don't worry. I have absolutely zero interest in your assets." A flicker of dark mockery passed through Jude's eyes. He thought she was playing hard to get. He had heard that exact lie from a dozen women before. Determined to prove she wasn't a leech, Blaire made her offer. "Since we're going to be roommates, we split the rent and living expenses down the middle. Fifty-fifty." Jude's hands jerked on the steering wheel. He snapped his head toward her, his eyebrows crashing together in pure shock. As the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire, the concept of splitting a grocery bill with a woman had never once existed in his universe. He narrowed his eyes, searching her face for the punchline, looking for the crack in her acting. But all he saw was stubborn, earnest determination. When he didn't answer, Blaire assumed he was stressed about the money. Her sympathy flared again. "If your sales commissions are low this month, I can cover a little more of the utilities." A muscle feathered in Jude's jaw. For the first time in his life, his ability to provide was being questioned. A bizarre sense of offense burned in his chest. He ground his teeth together. To maintain his fake identity, he forced the words through his tight lips. "No. I can afford it." The light turned green. Jude stomped on the gas pedal. The old Camry let out a loud, struggling groan and lurched forward aggressively. The sudden momentum threw Blaire backward. Her shoulders slammed into the seat. She let out a short gasp and scrambled to grip her seatbelt tightly across her chest. Jude caught her panicked expression in the rearview mirror. The irrational irritation in his gut dissipated slightly, but he kept his profile locked in a cold, unreadable mask. They navigated the streets near City Hall. Finding parking was a nightmare. Jude spotted an impossibly tight space between two SUVs. With sharp, aggressive spins of the steering wheel, he parallel-parked the Camry perfectly on the first try. Blaire watched his hands move, secretly impressed by the raw competence of the maneuver. They stepped out of the car and walked up the massive stone steps of City Hall. All around them, couples were holding hands and kissing. The physical distance between Blaire and Jude felt like a gaping canyon in comparison. As they passed through the security metal detectors, Blaire fumbled with her purse. It slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor. Her lipstick and compact powder spilled out, rolling across the dirty tiles. Jude's body reacted instantly. He took a distinct half-step backward, his hands retreating into his pockets. His haphephobia and intense germaphobia paralyzed him. He stood there, staring blankly, offering absolutely zero help. Blaire crouched on the floor, frantically gathering her makeup. Her face burned. She looked up at his indifferent posture, and the filter of his extreme good looks shattered into a million pieces. He is gorgeous, but he is absolute trash, she thought. She stood up, aggressively dusting off her skirt. Without waiting for him, she marched past the security guards toward the registration hall, her back stiff with anger. Jude's eyes darkened, and he followed her inside.