Page 68 of Jude

She reeled back as if struck across the face, her flawless complexion turning a mottled red.

She blinked several times at my diamond, then raked her eyes over me, still caught in disbelief.

‘The hell? I’m Abby,’ she said, her voice dropping into a harsh register.

I jolted at the name as she continued with her diatribe.

‘You’re his what? Wife? No freakin’ way. You’ve got to be kidding me. Judah wouldn’t marry someone like you.’

A condescending laugh slipped from her lips, the sound making me tense.

Cazzo, this was Abby.

The woman whose name slipped from Jude’s lips right before he made love to me.

A wave of nausea hit me, but I swallowed it down, forcing my face to remain a mask.

My mind raced, however, as I compared myself to her.

She was nothing like me, whatsoever.

She was lissome and tall, a knockout with bombshell-bright, buttery-blonde, glossy hair, resembling a bona fide cover girl.

This was his type.

It had been naive of me to think I’d have a chance against her, or that this marriage of convenience would be smooth sailing.

Still, I held the cards for now.

‘He married me; ask him yourself if you don’t believe me,’ I said, my voice steady despite my roiling emotions.

‘I will, and we’ll see how long you two last,’ she sneered, crossing her arms.

Don’t let her get to you, I told myself, locking my jaw.

I refused to give this woman the satisfaction of seeing her shake my confidence.

Even as the memory of Jude whispering her name in bed played back in my mind.

I tamped down my frustration and self-blame, forcing my chin up as I met her gaze with cool indifference.

‘Well, we’re married, you can check in with him, or Maggie and Kian, they were our witnesses.’

Her face switched from pale to flushed, a red tinge creeping up her face.

‘This must be some joke. You have to be some random groupie he picked up at a dive bar or a concert to spite me.’

‘It’s not a prank, signora,’ I replied, keeping my voice level despite the frantic hammering in my chest. ‘As I said, take it up with him if you’ve any doubts.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ she spat, her cold mask slipping as she threw a finger into my face, causing her expensive leather handbag to slam against her hip. ‘You’re nothing to him, he’s never mentioned you before, and he won’t be throwing his life away on trash. He must have gone mad during this tour. I need to have a word to set him straight. Enjoy your little game while it lasts, hussy.’

I arched a brow at her insult.

Hussy?

How uninspired.

How about la vera regina, the queen bitch, who bagged the man while she was out here crashing and burning like a cheap cozza?