Billionaire's Bride

Force Marriage

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We met by chance,
But we were bound together by fate…

Janette had never felt so out of place. She was grateful to her sister-in-law for lending her the dress, but now, under the scrutiny of dozens of eyes, she regretted it. Every man in the room looked at her like she was some rare exhibit on display. She never cared for this kind of attention, and a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach.

“Meet my daughter, Mr. Norman,” her father’s voice cut through her thoughts. She turned and found herself face-to-face with a man in a tailored navy blue suit—the most striking man she had ever seen. His presence seemed to slow time itself. His intense blue eyes met hers, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away. Unlike the other men in the room, who ogled her with crude interest, his gaze was different—sharp, almost dark, and inexplicably magnetic. The masculine scent of his cologne filled her senses, making her pulse quicken.

But then his expression shifted, becoming as cold and distant as the rest.

“She’s even more beautiful in person than in the pictures,” he said, his voice smooth and deep, sending a shiver through her. The sound of it was captivating—until she processed his words.

Pictures?

She had never met this man before. How did he have pictures of her? Her eyes darted to her father, Robert Stark, but he stood there with that unreadable expression she knew so well. Just a slight nod, as if to confirm that this was all according to his plan.

What is this old man up to? she thought bitterly. First, he’d taken her parents away, and now he was showing her pictures to strangers. How much more of this nightmare was she supposed to endure?

Her thoughts scattered when the stranger took her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. She felt an electric jolt at the contact—a weird, tingling sensation that seemed to spread through her skin. Her eyes widened as she remembered something she’d read years ago.

“When you make contact with your soulmate for the first time, you will feel a slight electricity sparked by them.”

She dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. Must be static, she reasoned, chalking it up to some bizarre coincidence.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Stark,” he murmured, his husky voice like a caress. He radiated power; five bodyguards hovered nearby in black suits, watching the room like hawks. Guests who approached him did so cautiously, and even the waitstaff seemed too intimidated to offer him a drink unless they were the head of the staff.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Mr. Norman, take care of my daughter. I have other guests to attend to,” Stark said, turning away without a second thought, leaving her alone with this stranger.

Great. He just left his daughter with a complete stranger. Janette suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and managed a tight smile. She could feel Asher Norman’s eyes trailing over her, assessing every inch. When his gaze lingered a little too long on the deep neckline of her dress, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"By the way, my name isn’t Ms. Stark. It’s Janette, or Jane," she corrected. The name Stark felt foreign, alien. She wasn’t used to being summoned by it like some kind of prize to be won. His eyes flicked back to hers, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You know, Ms. Stark—”

“Not again, Mr. Norman,” she interrupted, her voice firmer.

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly genuine. “Alright, Jane. I’m not great with first names. I usually remember people by their family names. But seeing as you’ve got that striking red hair, I think I can make an exception for you.”

“But only on one condition—you call me Asher,” he added, his smile softening. Suddenly, it clicked. Asher Norman. Anastasia’s crush. The powerful businessman with a reputation that preceded him.

Meanwhile, something shifted in Asher’s expression. Her smile, however faint, reminded him of something he hadn’t seen in years—his mother’s. The memory was like a slap to the face, a reminder of why he was here. He wasn’t here to admire his enemy’s daughter; he was here to settle a score. Janette noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, his warmth replaced by a frigid intensity. She knew this type—rich men with moods like weather vanes.

I already hate this man, she thought, forcing a polite smile his way.

“Well, it’s delightful to meet you, Asher,” she said, feeling the urge to put as much distance between them as possible. There was something about sharing the same space with him that felt suffocating, as if his presence commanded too much air.

Asher watched her carefully, trying to process the way she said his name. There was something about it that made him want to hear it over and over again. But he reminded himself of his purpose. She wasn’t the one he was here for.

“I could say the same,” he murmured, slipping his hands into his pockets, his lips thinning into a hard line.

Seeing an opportunity to escape, Janette started to move away, eager to get to a quieter corner of the room, away from his intense gaze. But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps when her father’s voice boomed across the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must all be wondering why I invited you here tonight.”

Her heart sank. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Well, I’d like to introduce my daughter, Janette Stark, and her fiancé—my soon-to-be son-in-law, Mr. Asher Norman.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. “What the hell?” she muttered under her breath.

Did I hear that right?

The handsome stranger she’d just met was her fiancé? Her future husband? She clenched her jaw. This man—this stranger—had just stolen her freedom. Asher Norman could have anyone, and yet her father had thrust her into his arms. Why? Why her?

Marriage was the last thing on her mind. She had dreams, plans—building a career of her own, making something of herself.

“Come on up here, my daughter, and Mr. Norman,” Stark called. She wanted to refuse, but then she thought of her brother, Tom. She wouldn’t let him suffer for her defiance. She had never felt so trapped in her life.

“Go, Jane,” Erie whispered, her friend trying to offer comfort. But Janette’s legs felt like they were made of lead. Then, suddenly, Asher was beside her, taking her hand. His grip was firm as he guided her to the stage, where her father stood, looking all too pleased with himself. Cheers erupted around them, but she could only glare at Stark.

He’s got a lot of explaining to do.

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