JOSSELYN Christie had been clear from the beginning that she was not going to
Enjoy her wedding day. How could she enjoy it when it wasn't a love wedding and she barely knew the man she had just married? However, she had hoped that at least he would behave with a minimum of civility.
The post-ceremony reception was in full swing. Members of Philadelphia's wealthiest families filled the ballroom of her father's mansion, one of the oldest and most elegant in Pennsylvania.
She should have known this had always been her destiny, a marriage like the one she'd just embarked on. She'd been naive to think she'd somehow escape it, that she wouldn't have to sacrifice herself for her family as so many high-class young women like her had.
"You seem thoughtful, darling," a familiar voice said at her side.
Despite everything, Josselyn smiled as she turned to her elderly father, Archibald Christie. She loved him very much and would do anything for him, as she had just demonstrated. Her father was convinced that this marriage would be good for her, and after the loss of her mother and brother, although the accident had been going on for years, Josselyn understood that the most important thing for him was to secure her future.
Her eyes involuntarily shifted to the tall, serious man across the room, chatting with other billionaires, but she forced herself to look back at her father. She didn't want to get any more nervous. Worrying wouldn't change anything.

"Well, it's a big change to start a life together with another person," she replied to her father in a feigned cheerful tone, putting her arm around his shoulders.
His father sighed and said:
–Even though I'm an old fool, I can understand that maybe this wasn't what you wanted, but I think in time you'll realize that I did this for your own good.
"I understand," Josselyn replied, trying to appear calm. "If I didn't understand, I would never have agreed to this wedding."
That was precisely the problem: she had agreed. As agitated as she had felt that afternoon as she walked down the aisle, she couldn't say anyone had forced her to do it.
An old family friend approached and started talking to her father, but Josselyn had no desire to join in. Nervously, she ran her hands down the bodice of her wedding dress. It was a near-identical replica of the one her mother had worn on her wedding day. She needed to calm down, she told herself, and smile. But instead, she found herself looking back at her now-husband, Cenzo Falcone. He was descended from European royalty and part of the Sicilian nobility. He owned estates all over the world and a fortune so vast it was said he couldn't spend it in ten lifetimes.
A passing waiter offered Josselyn a glass of champagne, which she gratefully took. She was tempted to down it in one gulp, but then thought better of it. While the alcohol would help her relax, she also didn't want to end up drinking too much because the minutes were ticking by and she'd soon have to leave with "him." With her husband, she corrected herself, taking a sip. If she repeated that to herself over and over again, maybe the whole thing would end up seeming less surreal. And maybe less overwhelming, too. There were plenty of women with husbands; that word didn't have to intimidate her.