Chapter 6 Duties

[Irene]

The cool grass shifts beneath my heels as I cross the lawn toward the pavilion.

Jude slowly turns his whiskey glass between two fingers, his eyes tracking every step I take.

He looks entirely relaxed, leaning back against the dark leather of the armchair.

"Enjoy your coffee?" he asks, his tone smooth, almost conversational.

I stop a few feet from his chair, holding my bag against me.

"The security detail didn't mention my exact order?"

Jude lets out a low, dry breath of amusement and sets his glass down on the iron table.

"I know you met your cousin. Leo, right? Staring out the window at my guards like he was waiting for an execution."

He pauses, tilting his head slightly as his eyes fix on mine.

"I don't care who you have coffee with, Irene. But you don't snatch phones from my men."

"Then tell your men to stop standing between me and where I need to go," I reply flatly.

"Go upstairs," Jude says, ignoring my comment entirely as he checks his watch. "You have forty minutes to get ready. We have a dinner event to attend."

I frown. "I'm not interested in whatever family gathering you have planned."

"It's not a family gathering," he says, standing up and buttoning his cuffs. "It's a private reception for our network. And as my wife, you will be there."

I turn on my heel without another word and walk back toward the house.

[ *** ]

When I step into my room, a long garment bag hangs from the valet stand near the window.

Tania stands nearby, adjusting the hanger.

She turns when the door opens, offering a cautious, quiet smile.

"Mr. Jude had this brought up from the boutique an hour ago, Mrs. Verin. He requested that you wear this specifically."

I unzip the heavy plastic.

Inside is a floor-length gown of deep midnight-blue silk.

It features a high, structured neckline that looks completely conservative from the front, but the silk drapes low across the back, clinging tightly to the hips with a sharp slit running up the left thigh.

It is undeniably striking.

I stare at the fabric for a long three seconds, reluctance settling in my chest.

"Should I help you with the zip?" Tania asks softly.

"Please," I say, stepping out of my suit trousers.

Twenty minutes later, I stand before the mirror.

I pull my hair into a tight chignon, apply a coat of deep lipstick, and slide my feet into black stiletto heels.

I hate that it fits perfectly.

[ *** ]

When I step down the front steps, the car door is held open.

Jude is already in the back, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo with a crisp bow tie.

As I slide onto the leather bench beside him, his eyes move over the cut of the dress, lingering on my exposed legs before meeting my face.

"You look exceptional," he says quietly.

I look straight out the tinted window, keeping my bag on my lap. "Save it."

The rest of the forty-minute drive passes in complete silence.

[ *** ]

The vehicle pulls up to a private, gated estate nestled on a hilltop overlooking the bay.

Valets in white jackets open the doors as soft classical music and low laughter spill out from the glass pavilion ahead.

The room is filled with high-ranking syndicate heads, political figures, and wealthy investors—the inner core of the Verin network.

Before we step through the double doors, Jude takes a step closer, his hand settling firmly over the small of my back, his thumb pressing through the thin silk of the gown.

"Smile, Irene," he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "For tonight, we are a very happy, very devoted couple."

"Touch me less, and I might consider it," I whisper back through clenched teeth.

He simply smirks, pulling me half an inch closer to his side as we step into the hall.

He moves through the room with effortless polish, introducing me as his wife with a cool, controlled charm.

He speaks smoothly, moving through conversations about shipping routes and local policy with practiced ease, his grip never leaving my waist.

[ *** ]

At the far end of the grand dining hall, a large circular table sits elevated near the glass windows.

Victor Verin sits at the center, with Cian and several older dignitaries seated on either side of him.

As Jude leads me toward them, conversations around the table dies down.

"Jude. Irene," Victor says, gesturing with his wine glass. "Join us."

A senator sitting beside Cian looks up, smiling warmly. "Ah, the newlyweds. You make a striking pair, Jude."

Jude steps behind my chair, pulling it out with flawless etiquette.

"Thank you, Senator. I consider myself extremely fortunate."

As I sit, Jude leans down, takes my right hand in his, and presses a lingering, gentle kiss to the back of my hand.

My stomach turns at the utter absurdity of the performance, but I keep my expression polite, pulling my hand back smoothly the second he lets go.

[ *** ]

Before the main course is served, the host steps up to the small band platform, tapping a spoon against his crystal glass.

"A toast," the host calls out, "to the newest union strengthening our community—Jude and Irene Verin! Let's have a dance from the couple!"

A light round of applause ripples through the room.

I immediately begin to shake my head, opening my mouth to decline, but before I can speak, Jude is already on his feet.

He extends his hand toward me, his smile warm, bright, and completely fake.

"I'd be delighted," Jude says easily.

He doesn't give me a chance to pull away.

His fingers lock firmly around mine before I can protest, drawing me up from the table and leading me toward the center of the floor as the quartet begins a slow, romantic waltz.

He pulls me in close, his right hand wrapping around my exposed waist, his fingers pressing into my spine.

I place my left hand on his shoulder, keeping my eyes on his as we move together.

He dances with practiced grace, steering me seamlessly across the parquet floor.

"You're a terrible actor," I whisper, staring directly into his eyes.

"And you're stiff as a board," he replies, his voice low, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Relax, wife. Everyone is watching."

As the final notes of the song fades, Jude dips me slightly, then brings me back up, cupping my cheek with his hand.

Before I can draw a breath, he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

It is a slow, deliberate kiss, staged to look like genuine adoration to the crowd around us.

Cheering and enthusiastic applause break out across the room.

When he pulls back, my face burns with a mixture of intense embarrassment and absolute disgust.

He offers me a brilliant, triumphant smile, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear as he leads me back to the table.

[ *** ]

For the remainder of the dinner, I refuse to speak.

I focus entirely on my plate, stuffing my mouth with roast duck and drinking three glasses of red wine in quick succession to dull the sharp edges of my anger.

Beside me, Jude senses my mood.

He reaches down under the table, his hand resting heavily over my knee.

"Relax," he whispers under his breath, his tone losing its earlier charm. "You're drinking too fast."

I sharply shove his hand off my leg, glaring at him sideways.

"Stop touching me," I say in a harsh whisper. "And stop performing for these people."

Jude's jaw clenches, a flash of genuine annoyance darkening his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut, resting his arm on the table with a cold, controlled silence.

[ *** ]

The ride back to the estate is suffocatingly quiet.

Neither of us says a word.

Jude stares out his window, his hand clenched into a tight fist on his thigh, while I lean my head against the cool glass of my door, the alcohol making my head spin slightly.

When the car stops in the stone courtyard, he steps out first without waiting.

He walks straight up the front steps, leaving the guards to handle my door.

I step out, my footing slightly uneven in the high heels.

Tania and another young housemaid are already waiting near the front doors.

They quickly step up to my sides, taking my arms to help steady me as we ascend the grand staircase.

As we reach the second-floor landing, Jude stands near his doorway, his jacket gone, his white shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest as he watches us approach.

Behind him, inside the brightly lit master suite, Diane is propped up on the bed in a silk robe, scrolling through her phone.

Tania tries to steer me toward the master suite door. "Let's get you into Mr. Jude's room, Mrs. Verin—"

"No," I say sharply, digging my heels into the runner rug and pulling my arm back. "Take me to my room. This is not my room."

Jude stands in the doorway, taking off his shirt and tossing it over a chair.

He doesn't say a word and simply watches me with an unreadable stare as I resist.

Tania looks nervously between Jude and me, then nods quickly.

"Of course, Mrs. Verin. This way."

They guide me toward the secondary corridor to the small guest room.

Inside, Tania helps me unzip the gown, sliding the heavy silk off my shoulders, and uses a soft, warm towel to wipe the heavy lipstick and makeup from my face.

She helps me slip into a simple set of cotton pajamas and pulls the duvet up over my shoulders as I drop onto the narrow mattress.

"Get some sleep, Mrs. Verin," Tania whispers softly, turning off the bedside lamp.

I close my eyes in the dark, my head heavy from the wine, and let the quiet room wash over me.