Chapter 1 - The First Dance
"Pretend you’re my wife. Dance with me. Now."
The whispered words sent a startling jolt right through my exhausted body.
I turned quickly in my chair, staring directly at the incredibly handsome stranger standing behind me.
He had dark, perfectly styled hair, piercing grey eyes, and a faint, rugged scar crossing his square chin.
My name is Jessica Hale.
I am twenty-nine years old, a severely overworked pediatric nurse, and a single mother to my beautiful five-year-old daughter, Lily.
Exactly three minutes ago, I had been desperately fighting back bitter tears at my sister Sophia’s lavish wedding.
Two hundred wealthy guests filled the glittering, expensive Chicago ballroom overlooking the dark river.
My own family had intentionally seated me at a small table right beside the swinging kitchen doors.
Entirely alone.
Then Tyler, my ex-husband, had appeared out of the crowded room.
His pregnant wife, Vanessa, stood proudly right behind him.
She is my own cousin, the woman he married right after abandoning me while I was pregnant.
Tyler had cruelly insulted my department-store dress, mocked my demanding job, and humiliated me for struggling to pay my basic bills.
I had practically collapsed back into my chair, completely defeated.
And then, this tall, incredibly expensive-looking man approached my isolated table.
"I don't even know you," I whispered, pulling my cheap wrap tighter around my bare shoulders.
"Jessica Hale. Pediatric nurse. Mother of Lily. Sister of the beautiful bride," he recited smoothly.
My blood suddenly went entirely cold.
"How do you know that?" I demanded, looking at him with deep suspicion.
"Because you desperately need an ally tonight," he replied softly.
His sharp grey eyes moved slowly toward Tyler across the room.
"And so do I."
Apparently, his incredibly powerful family was aggressively trying to arrange a relationship with a business associate’s annoying daughter.
He confidently claimed one dance with another random woman wouldn’t stop them.
But presenting a secret wife definitely would.
"This is completely insane," I said, shaking my head.
"Probably," he agreed without a single trace of a smile.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Giovanni Fierro."
At the very next table, an older, wealthy man stopped speaking mid-sentence.
His elegant wife slowly, nervously lowered her expensive champagne glass.
I looked back directly at Giovanni.
"Should that specific name mean something to me?" I asked quietly.
His intense expression barely changed.
"Not tonight."
The live orchestra smoothly shifted into a beautiful, slow romantic song.
Giovanni casually glanced directly behind me.
"Your ex-husband is watching you."
I turned my head slightly.
Tyler was staring fiercely at our table, looking deeply confused.
Vanessa wasn’t wearing her cruel, victorious smile anymore.
Giovanni offered his large, warm hand again.
"Ten seconds," he whispered.
"You’re seriously counting?" I asked in disbelief.
"Nine."
For the very first time that terrible evening, I actually almost laughed out loud.
"Eight."
I looked closely at Tyler’s arrogant face.
Then I looked at Vanessa's sudden insecurity.
Then I looked back at the striking stranger waiting so patiently in front of me.
"Seven."
I boldly placed my trembling hand directly into his.
Giovanni pulled me gently but firmly to my feet.
And then, something incredibly strange happened in the crowded room.
One loud conversation stopped.
Then another.
Then another.
The wealthy people began turning toward us on the dance floor.
They were not looking toward me in my cheap dress.
They were looking entirely toward him with absolute reverence and deep fear.
Giovanni placed one strong hand firmly at my waist and leaned close enough that only I could hear his deep voice.
"Whatever happens next, Jessica, do not let go of my hand."
May you like
That was the terrifying moment I finally realized I might have impulsively agreed to far more than just one simple dance.
Suddenly, a team of six massive men in identical dark suits aggressively entered the ballroom, walking straight toward the bride's table.
