MARRIED TO MY ENEMY

The first time my father told me I was going to marry Adrian Cross, I laughed. It wasn't because I found the idea funny. It was the kind of laugh that escaped when your brain refused to accept what your ears had just heard. I looked across the dining table. My father wasn't smiling. Neither was my mother. The laughter died in my throat. “You're serious?” My father folded his hands on the table. “Yes.” One word. That was all it took to make the room feel unbearably quiet. I stared at him. “Adrian Cross?” He nodded. I pushed my chair back slightly. “You want me to marry a Cross?” “I want you to help save this family.” My stomach tightened. There it was. Not I want you to be happy. Not I think he's a good man. Save this family. I glanced at my mother. She wouldn't look at me. That scared me more than my father's answer. The Crosses had been our enemies for as long as I could remember. Their name had always been spoken differently in our house. Not casually. Not comfortably. With bitterness. With anger. With the kind of hatred that children inherit before they are old enough to understand it. I'd grown up hearing the same story. Years ago, Adrian Cross's older brother had died on the night he was supposed to marry a woman from my family. The Crosses blamed the Vales. My family blamed the Crosses. Nobody ever admitted what really happened. But the hatred remained. And now my father wanted me to marry the heir of that family. “You've lost your mind.” “Elena.” “No.” My father sighed. “You haven't heard everything.” “I don't need to.” “You do.” He reached for a folder lying beside him. My eyes immediately went to it. “What is that?” “The terms of the marriage.” My chest tightened. He slid the folder across the table. I didn't touch it. “You've already discussed this with them?” “Yes.” “And you agreed?” “We had to.” I stared at him. “Had to?” “The company is in trouble.” I went still. I'd known things weren't going well. I'd seen my father working later than usual. I'd heard the arguments behind closed doors. I'd noticed how often meetings were being canceled. But I hadn't known it was this bad. “How bad?” My father didn't answer immediately. “Bad enough that if we don't secure new funding soon, the company may not survive.” I looked down at the folder. “And the Crosses are providing it?” “Yes.” I laughed bitterly. “So they get to save us, and I get to marry their son?” “They aren't buying you.” “Feels like it.” My father's expression hardened. “Watch yourself.” “No. You watch yourself.” My voice cracked. “You're asking me to marry the family you've spent my entire life teaching me to hate.” “I taught you the truth.” “Did you?” Silence. For a second, something flickered across his face. Something I couldn't understand. Then it disappeared. “The wedding is in three weeks.” My heart dropped. “Three weeks?” “Yes.” I stood. “No.” “Elena—” “I won't do it.” My father didn't move. “You will.” I stared at him. For the first time in my life, I realized he wasn't asking. He was telling me. Then the dining room doors opened. I turned. A man stood in the doorway. Tall. Dark-haired. Dressed in black. He looked completely out of place in our home, yet somehow he carried himself like he belonged anywhere he chose to stand. My heart skipped. I knew him immediately. Adrian Cross. I'd seen his face in newspapers, business articles, photographs. None of them had captured the coldness in his eyes. He looked at me. And I suddenly understood why people lowered their voices when they talked about him. Not because he looked angry. Because he didn't. There was nothing emotional in his expression at all. My father stood. “Adrian.” Adrian gave him a brief nod. Then his eyes returned to me. “Elena Vale.” The way he said my name made it sound like he'd been saying it in his head for years. I crossed my arms. “Adrian Cross.” His gaze didn't leave mine. “So we've finally met.” “Unfortunately.” A faint twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. “Agreed.” My father cleared his throat. “Why don't you both sit?” Neither of us moved. Adrian looked at the folder on the table. Then back at me. “The terms are inside.” I frowned. “What terms?” “Our marriage.” The words sounded absurd coming from him. He picked up the folder and placed it directly in front of me. I stared at it. “You already have everything planned?” “Yes.” “Without asking me?” “You weren't going to agree anyway.” I looked up sharply. “You don't know me.” “No.” His voice was calm. “But I know your family.” I hated how easily he said it. I hated even more that part of me wanted to know what he'd heard about me. “What exactly do you expect from this marriage?” “Nothing.” The answer came instantly. That surprised me. “Nothing?” “It's an arrangement.” He looked directly into my eyes. “One year.” I frowned. “One year?” “That's how long the marriage will last.” He said it like he was discussing a business contract. “At the end of that year, we go our separate ways.” I stared at him. “And you're comfortable with that?” “I insisted on it.” Something about that bothered me. Before I could ask why, he turned toward the door. Then he stopped. “Read the agreement before you decide you hate it.” I almost laughed. “I already hate it.” This time, his eyes met mine for a moment longer. “I expected that.” Then he walked out. I looked down at the black folder. Three weeks until I married the man I'd been raised to hate. One year until the marriage ended. At least, that was what I thought. I had no idea that opening that folder would be the first step toward discovering that almost everything I'd been told about the Cross family was a lie.