The Judge's Contract Bride

Chapter 3

At the courthouse,Drake is waiting near the entrance, his suit pressed to perfection, his expression tight with barely concealed anxiety.

"You made it," he says, pulling me into a brief embrace. His hands are trembling slightly against my back.

"Of course I did." I lean back to look at him. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

"I'm scared," he admits, and for a moment, the invincible version of Drake cracks. "What if I say the wrong thing? What if they think I'm involved?"

"You're not involved. You're innocent. So just tell the truth and everything will be fine." I squeeze his hand, trying to project a confidence I'm not entirely feeling. "You're going to be amazing."

He nods, but his jaw remains clenched.

We make our way into the courtroom, and I follow Drake to the gallery seating.

Then the bailiff stands.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Marco De Luca."

Everyone gets to their feet, and I rise with them, my mind already elsewhere. Then he walks in and the world stops.

He is effortlessly tall with broad shoulders.His dark hair is perfectly styled, his suit tailored in a way that speaks of money and power. But it's his eyes that stop my heart.

Those gray eyes.

The ones from my dream.

My body goes rigid and I'm frozen mid-sit, suspended in a moment that stretches like taffy, and every rational thought I possess evaporates like morning mist. It's him, the man who rules my dream.

He moves to his bench with the ease of someone who belongs in rooms like this. Someone used to authority, to being obeyed and admired.

His gaze swept across the courtroom.

Lawyers.

Witnesses.

Spectators.

Then it stopped on me.

For one brief second.His expression didn't change.

But something in those gray eyes sharpened.

As though he recognized me too.

For one suspended second, we lock gazes across the courtroom. His expression doesn't change,he remains composed but something flickers in those gray eyes. Recognition, maybe. Or surprise. Whatever it is, it hits me like a physical force.

I'm still standing even while everyone else has sat down. The lawyers are settling into their seats. Drake is looking at me with a mixture of concern and confusion, his hand reaching for my arm. But I can't move. I can't look away from the judge who somehow walked out of my subconscious and into the real world.

"Ariana." Drake's sharp voice calls.

I blink and the spell breaks.

I sink into the seat beside him, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I'm convinced everyone in the courtroom can hear it. Drake leans over, his voice low.

"What was that about? Why were you just standing there?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my throat tight. "I was just... I'm sad about the motorcycle and got distracted."

He squeezes my hand once and turns his attention to the front of the courtroom.

I keep my eyes straight ahead, but I'm hyperaware of every movement the judge makes. The way he adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair with an ease that suggests he's entirely in control.

And every few seconds, I feel the weight of his gaze on me again.

The session begins. The prosecutor outlines the case against Drake's former business partners with fraud, money laundering, embezzlement. It's all technically above Drake's head, he claims. He was just a junior partner, present in meetings but not involved in the decision-making.

When it's time for Drake's testimony, he stands and is sworn in. I watch him sit in the witness box, and I see the man I love transform into something harder, colder. His answers are precise and carefully worded.

After Drake, his personal assistant Thiago takes the stand. My best-fruends looks so uncomfortable in the stand but he spotted me and offered a small reassuring smile. He corroborates his story, adds details that paint him as an innocent bystander. By the time the session ends, it seems like Drake's case is solid.

The judge stands, signals the end of the session and everyone rises out of respect.

It's chaos after with lawyers gathering files, people moving toward the exits. Drake is on his phone, his expression shifting from relieved to something darker and more urgent. I move toward him, but he's already walking away, deep in conversation with whoever's on the other end of the line.

"I understand," he's saying, his voice low. "Yeah. I know. I'll handle it."

He ends the call, and when he turns to me, he forces a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Ariana." He kisses me, quick and distracted. "Something's come up. Something I need to take care of immediately."

"What? What came up? Drake, the hearing is—"

"I know. And it went fine. We're good. But I have to go. I have to go *now*." He's already moving, his hand slipping from mine. "I'll call you later, okay?" He says walking out while Thiago waves at me and hurried fo meet up his footsteps.

"Wait, where are you going? When will you be back?"

But he's already gone, disappearing into the crowd of people exiting the courtroom, leaving me standing alone in the suddenly emptied gallery.

I stand there for a moment, processing everything. When I turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

A strong hands steadied me before I could stumble.

My heart stopped.

Judge Marco De Luca.

Up close, those gray eyes were even more unsettling.

"Careful," he said quietly and walked away.

At home. I shower and try to distract myself by meal prepping for the week, but my mind keeps drifting. Drake's suspicious phone call and rushed departure.

Around midnight, my phone rings.

"Hey, baby," Drake's voice is tired. "I'm sorry about earlier. I had to catch a flight. Some business stuff that couldn't wait."

"You're at the airport?"

"Yeah. Already boarded, actually. My phone's about to die, but I wanted to call you."

"When will you be back?"

"I'll be back before the wedding. I promise. I just need to handle this one thing, and then everything will be back to normal."

"Okay," I say, because what else can I say? "Safe travels."

"I love you, Ari."

"Love you too."

He hangs up, and I'm left in the quiet of my apartment, restless and unsettled. I try to sleep, but sleep doesn't come easily. When it finally does, around three in the morning, I drift into dreams.

And there he is.

The judge.

In my dream, with his hands on my waist, pulling me closer. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, and I gasp at the sensation.

"Stay away from me," I whisper.

"You don't mean that."

"I don't even know you."

His gaze locks onto mine."Not yet."

"Who are you?"

He leans closer.

"Someone who's about to change your life."

I wake gasping, my body flushed and aching, my sheets tangled around my legs.

The clock reads 4:47 AM.

I sighed staring at the clock and wondering what kind of sick joke the universe is trying to play with me.