Chapter 19
JUDE
Guilt slammed into my chest the moment Sofia tracked upstairs.
Sighing, I caught the thud of her bedroom door closing.
I removed the box from my pocket.
I stared at it, resting in my calloused palm, then flipped the cover open to study the matte black titanium-and-gold band within.
It was an exquisite piece, no doubt.
Not wearing metal at a concert was valid, but her counterargument held water; I had the choice to wear it on one of my neck chains.
I wanted to shove it onto my finger right then, if only to erase the crushed, wounded expression that flashed across her face.
However, I was not a man who built my life on half-truths.
Hell, I was trying to maintain my emotional distance, which was like pulling teeth given the suffocating level of desire I now had for Sofia.
I stalked upstairs to my primary, threw the ring box onto my nightstand, and got ready for bed.
I spent that night staring at the ceiling.
My fists clenched, each muscle in my body locking up as I fought the urge to stalk down the hall to her room.
I fantasized about pushing into her room, sliding under her sheets, and burying myself deep inside her warmth until the rest of the world burned.
The yearning clawed at my gut, a relentless, primal need to feel her nails digging into my back while our breaths tangled in the dark.
Every hour without her felt like a gradual burn, remembering the sensual, filthy rhythm of her hips and the undone sound of her moan when she called my name.
However, I learned the hard way with Abby that being led on out of pity or cowardice was a slow poison.
For years, Abby and I stayed in a holding pattern because she lacked the guts to choose me.
I refused to repeat that mistake with my wife.
Telling her I was not ready for the permanence of a wedding ring was the raw, jagged reality of where my heart was; in confusion about her.
It hurt, but the truth was always cleaner than a lie.
She would feel the sting of rejection tonight, maybe for a week, but she would recover.
In my book, stringing a woman along because I was too much of a coward to voice my hesitation was the ultimate betrayal.
I did not owe Sofia a declaration of love out of mercy, and real devotion would not grow in the soil of obligation.
Yet, as I tossed and turned, my cold logic started to fracture.
The fact was that the rigid boundaries I had set for this marriage of convenience were slipping through my fingers.
I missed Sofia’s presence when the studio sessions ran until midnight.
I craved how her face lit up whenever I walked through the door, or the sound of her laughter when we binged a show on TV together.
I was drawn to her joy, to her resilience, and it terrified me because she was never supposed to own me like this.
I braced myself for a frosty reception from Sofia the next morning, expecting an arsenal of slammed doors, deep sighs, and passive-aggressive silence.
The kind I’d endured with every other woman in my past whenever they did not get their way.
Instead, Sofia stood by the stove, bathed in the early sunlight, singing a soft melody under her breath.
‘Morning, Jude,’ she said, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs and avocado slices onto the counter as I pulled out a stool.
Her expression was serene, her posture relaxed, and she offered a genuine, warm smile before pouring my black coffee.
‘Hey.’
My timbre was a rough growl as I searched her face.
Credit to her, she didn’t pout; neither did she throw me a sideways glare, nor demand an apology.
Her complete lack of malice only made the guilt twist tighter in my gut.
Her good nature did not absolve my hesitation; it highlighted it.
However, slipping that ring onto my finger meant forever.
A wedding band to me was not a piece of cheap jewelry or a prop to make a contract look legitimate; it was an eternal oath, a permanent mark of ownership and surrender.
Still, I needed to make this up to her.
She deserved to know she was not just a chore or an agreement to me.
She was more, even though I couldn’t articulate what she was or whether she had a place in my future life.
A few days later, the band locked in the final master tracks for our next album, Storm Born.
We spent the afternoon gathered at the mixing console, toasts of celebratory beer going around the room as Mason laid out the plans for our upcoming tour.
‘It’ll be an eight-to-twelve-week intensive, through Paris, Rome, Berlin, and then London, and perhaps even several Italian shows. You’ll be debuting songs from the new album, plus helping a handful of younger acts to drum up some press.’
As I left the studio, my phone rang.
Brian Waring, my attorney’s name, flashed up.
‘Boss, speak to me,’ I growled.
‘Hey, we’re close to getting a spousal visa for Sofia, but we need her to travel out of the country for it. It’s a federal requirement.’
I sighed.
‘Look, I’ll put my thinking cap on and call you back with options, thanks, mate.’
I hung up, mulling the matter.
Driving home that evening, navigating the winding roads, a thought hit me.
What if I took Sofia on the tour with me? Give her a flavor of life on the road, but also help her sort out her paperwork?
I’d need to have a couple of chats with Brian and Mason to firm things up, but the plan made more sense with every moment I thought about it.
‘Genius,’ I told myself, my mind in deep planning mode.
SOFIA
It took a few days after my disastrous wedding-ring fiasco for the embarrassment to fade.
I surrendered and let go of the outcome, and my mood went back up.
I was humming as I dried dishes when Jude strode into the kitchen with a stack of documents.
He set the folders onto the marble island, his green eyes meeting mine with his quiet intensity that always made my pulse quicken.
‘Hey,’ he rasped.
‘Hi. What’s all this?’
His lips quirked.
‘We’re heading to Europe in a few weeks.’
I paused, a towel dangling from my fingers as I processed his words.
‘For your next tour over summer?’
‘Six Sinners is going, yes,’ Jude replied.
‘But so are you. This isn’t just a holiday.
My attorneys applied for a spousal visa, but the only way it’ll be granted is if the residency documents are stamped at an embassy abroad.
We’ve got your Italian passport. So it makes sense that you come with me for the Euro tour and lock in your legal status at the same time. Two birds, one stone.’
A sudden, cold knot tightened in my gut, choking out the initial spark of excitement.
‘Italy?’ I whispered, my fingers gripping the edge of the marble counter.
My eyes searched his face, jolting with fear.
‘Jude, the Compagni Syndicate is based in Italy. What if someone sees me? What if Dario -?’
Jude closed the remaining distance between us.
He reached out, his calloused hand coming up to cup the back of my neck.
His thumb stroked my jawline.
‘Listen to me,’ he growled, sending arcs of feeling down my spine.
‘We’ll have an elite security detail on us twenty-four-seven.
Private security, armored transport, no loose ends.
And we’re landing in Rome. The Compagni built their empire from Naples and Milan; they have no foothold in Rome.
I checked with my investigator at the firm. ’
His jade eyes narrowed as my heart hammered.
‘Besides,’ he rumbled, his grip on the nape of my neck tightening just enough to pull me an inch closer, ‘you’ve seen what I do to people who step out of line.
You’re my wife now, Sofia. If anyone so much as lays a single finger on you, they won’t live long enough to regret it. You’re safe with me. Period.’
The primal certainty in his voice washed over my fears, dissolving the panic and leaving a warm, cautious happiness blooming in its place.
I took a breath, letting out a soft laugh as the realization settled in.
‘Rome,’ I murmured, glancing up at him. ‘I’ve only ever been there twice, and both times were before I turned twenty. I scarcely got to experience it. It’s going to be amazing to actually see all the sights properly; the Colosseum, the winding side streets in Trastevere, the fountains.’
‘Then you’ll see every damn square inch of it,’ Jude rumbled, his thumb sweeping over my cheek.
Before my mind could talk me out of it, I leaned in and pressed a warm kiss on his bearded cheek.
‘Thank you, Jude. So, so much.’
Jude went rigid for a fraction of a second, his breath hitching in his chest.
A slow crimson flush crept up his neck, darkening the black ink along his jawline.
He stepped back, a wry, crooked smile breaking through his usual stoic expression as he rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Don’t mention it,’ he muttered in a gravelly rasp, turning his attention back to the paperwork to hide his sudden reaction to my touch. ‘It’s the least I could do.’
I got the gist. This was his apology after the wedding ring debacle.
I tilted my head and smiled at him.
‘I understand, and I think it’s a very good grovel.’
He winked at me, his eyes glinting.
‘I’ll go let Nari and Mason know.’
My eyes followed him as he prowled away, my chest expanding with a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion that left me breathless.
Hunched over the marble island, I traced the outline of my diamond band.
My mind slipped back to the sheer absurdity of how this journey had even begun.
To think that my entire future had pivoted on a random, chaotic collision in a crowded airport terminal, bumping into a giant, tattooed stranger while I was running for my life.
The depth of my gratitude was almost too overwhelming to think of.
Jude claimed it was the least he could do; however, to a woman who’d lived with a target on her back for years, Jude was giving me an entire universe of safety and freedom.