The Judge's Contract Bride

“You are late”. The man's voice wrapped around me in the dark. I couldn't see his face clearly, only fragments of his gray eyes,sharp jaw. The outline of his broad shoulders disappearing into the shadows. Yet somehow I knew him. The strange certainty settled into my chest as he stepped closer. My pulse quickened. “I have been looking for you Ariana” The way he said my name sent a shiver through me. He lifted his hand,brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. The gesture was gentle as if we'd done this a thousand times before. But I had never met him. Had I? "Who are you?" I whispered and a faint smile touched his lips. Then everything shattered. "Ariana." My eyes flew open and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The dream clung to me like a second skin. "Ariana." A voice called and shattered my illusions, I turned my head and Drake is lying beside me, propped up on his elbow, his blonde hair still messy from sleep. His blue eyes are soft, affectionate, and I immediately felt guilty not because I had done anything wrong but cause a part of me wished I hadn't woken up. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me. "You okay?" Drake pulls back, studying my face. "You look a bit flushed." "Just the heat I guess and some bad bread," I lied tugging the duvet lower. It's not technically a lie. It was a dream. I just wouldn't call it bad. That's the part that makes me feel like I'm going to throw up. "Well, you're awake now." Drake settles back against the pillows, pulling me into his chest. His arm drapes across my waist, and I force myself to relax into his embrace. This is Drake. My fiancé whom I'm marrying in few weeks. I noticed Drake's phone lit up on the bedside,he glanced at the screen for a brief moment and panic flashed in his face bit it was gone quickly. "I have that court hearing today," he says, his voice distant. "The one I mentioned." I lift my head to look at him. "The testimony about your business partners?" "Yeah." His jaw tightens. "It's going to be intense. The feds have been building a case against some of the guys involved in the firm so they are looking into few people." Something cold slides down my spine. "Wait are you involved in—" "No,they are my clients and it's just protocol for me to testify in this type of case so don't worry it's just formalities and everything is going to be fine." He says kissing my forehead. "I have something I need to do this morning too," I say, pulling away to sit up. "I'm dropping the motorcycle off at nine. The new owner is meeting me downtown." Drake goes still beside me. "You're still doing that?" "I promised—" "Ari." He sits up fully now, and there's something almost pained in his expression. "You don't have to do this. I never asked you to sell the bike." "I know you didn't." "So don't. For me—" He reaches over and takes my hand. "That bike is a part of you and I don't want you to give away parts of yourself for me." My throat tightens. "It's just a motorcycle Babe." "It's not just anything." He squeezes my hand. "You love that bike." I do. God, I do. I've had it for five years, rebuilt the engine myself, spent every weekend I could riding through the mountains with the wind in my hair and the road stretching out like a promise. It's freedom and the uncompromised version of me that exists before marriage. "It doesn't fit," I whisper. "It doesn't fit who I'm going to be." "Who you're going to be is my wife. That's all you need to fit." He cups my face in his hands, and his eyes are so sincere, so earnest. "Don't do this. Not for me." But it's not for him. That's the thing he doesn't understand. It's for me. It's for this fantasy I've constructed where I'm the kind of woman who doesn't need an escape route. Where loving him is enough. Where sacrificing the wild parts of myself is a choice and not a slow erosion. "I have to," I say. "What if we have kids? What if I'm supposed to be setting an example? A motorcycle isn't... it's not fitting." Drake studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. Like he's accepting a defeat he can't prevent. "Okay. If that's what you want." Two hours later, I'm standing in a parking structure downtown, the keys to my motorcycle heavy in my palm. The buyer is a biker woman in her thirties with kind eyes and a genuine appreciation for the bike that makes it slightly easier. "She's a beautiful machine," the woman says, running her hand along the leather seat. "She is." My voice comes out hoarse. I clear my throat. “She's my baby. So please, just... take care of her, okay? She needs to be ridden at least twice a week or she'll get temperamental. And don't skimp on the oil changes. She deserves better." "I will," the woman promises, and something about her sincerity makes it worse. I hand over the keys and she gets on the bike, checking the feel of the seat, the grip of the handlebars. When she starts the engine, the familiar rumble fills the parking structure. "Thank you," she says. "I'll take good care of her." She drives off, and I stand there watching the taillights disappear around the corner. My chest feels hollow and my hands start shaking but I managed to wipe a few tears that were threatening to fall,It's stupid. It's just a bike. People sell their motorcycles every day. But I feel like I'm watching a part of my identity drive away, and I'm not sure the woman I'm becoming is worth the price of losing her. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from my best friend Paula: “WHERE ARE YOU?? Meet me in the Bridal shop. NOW.” Right i was supposed to check out my wedding dress. My phone buzzed with three emails from Santos Innovations, the technology company I'd spent the last six years building from scratch. Normally, I'd already be answering them. Today, I ignored them. For once, I wanted to focus on my wedding,so I take a breath, force my shoulders back, and flag down a cab. "Downtown Allen District," I tell the driver, climbing into the back seat. "1247 Fashion Avenue." As we kept going,I was so happy that I was moving towards the happiest day of my life but I didn't know everything was beginning to fall apart.