She Was Forced to Marry a 90-Year-Old Billionaire at the Altar — But When He Took Off His Mask, the Whole Chapel Froze

Julian instantly let go of Evelyn, his face hardening back into a cold, lethal mask of steel. He unclipped the radio from his belt, pressing the button.

"Lock down the main house," Julian ordered sharply into the transmitter. "Get Mrs. Gable and the staff into the panic vault in the basement. Move!"

"Julian, what's happening?!" Evelyn asked, her panic returning as she watched him reach into his desk drawer and pull out a sleek, black 9mm pistol, checking the magazine with practiced efficiency.

"Victoria didn't wait for her investigators," Julian said grimly, racking the slide of the weapon with a sharp CLACK. "She hired mercenaries to clear the mansion while the storm cut our communications."

"Mercenaries?!" Evelyn gasped, her face draining of color. "She wants to kill us?!"

"She wants to kill me," Julian corrected, taking her hand and pulling her quickly out of the dining room into the grand hallway. "If I die before the board meeting on Monday, my estate defaults to the family trust—which she controls."

Gunfire suddenly erupted from the front courtyard!

The loud RAT-TAT-TAT of automatic rifles shattered the stained-glass windows of the grand foyer, raining sharp, colorful shards of glass down onto the marble floors below.

Evelyn screamed, ducking her head as Julian pulled her behind a thick stone pillar near the main staircase.

"Listen to me, Evelyn," Julian commanded, gripping her shoulders hard, forcing her to look into his intense silver eyes. "I need you to take the service stairs down to the wine cellar. There is an iron door behind the third rack that leads to an underground tunnel down to the cove. Wait for me there."

"No!" Evelyn cried out, shaking her head violently, her hands gripping his crisp white shirt. "I'm not leaving you down here alone!"

Julian looked at her, stunned for a fraction of a second by her refusal to leave him. A sudden, powerful warmth flashed in his silver eyes.

"You have to go, little bird," he murmured, his thumb quickly tracing her cheekbone. "If they take you, I lose everything."

"I don't care about your money!" she shouted over the sound of breaking glass and shouting men in the courtyard. "I care about you!"

The words hung in the air between them, raw, wild, and undeniable.

Julian stared at her, his jaw tightening. Without a word, he reached behind her head, pulled her face toward his, and pressed his lips hard against hers.

The kiss was fierce, desperate, and intoxicating—a collision of fire, rain, and survival that made Evelyn’s head spin into pure chaos. She kissed him back with everything she had, her hands gripping his shirt, anchoring herself to him in the middle of the war.

Julian pulled back slowly, his silver eyes dark and breathless.