Chapter 3

As a little girl,I’d imagined my wedding day more times than I could count. As I grew up, some things changed. Instead of Barbie pink decor and a glittery dress that resembled a cupcake, my color palette became softer and the dress less opulent.

But never did I picture myself in the bridal suite, staring at myself in a dress I hadn’t picked out, being all alone.

The hair stylist and makeup artist had come and gone, giving me a makeover to die for. My dark hair was pulled back in a half-updo. Long curls trailed down my back with a few artfully placed tendrils framing my heart-shaped face. The neutral smokey eyeshadow with a pop of shimmer on the lid made my gray eyes sparkle, and the glossy pink lip oil made my lips appear full and wet without being sticky.

And the dress? Even if I hadn’t picked it out for myself, I couldn’t help but admit that whoever I was marrying had excellent taste.

The off-white satin dress had a simple sweetheart neckline with a row of diamonds wrapping around my waist. The fabric clung to my curves in a way that was both flattering and alluring. The train of the gown was only a couple feet long, and instead of a veil, I had a diamond encrusted tiara that matched the diamond choker and tennis bracelet.

My grandfather would have absolutely loved the clarity and brilliance of the gems. I had to blink back the sudden rush of tears as someone knocked on the dressing room door.

Clearing my throat, I called, “Come in.” Turning from the mirror, I watched the door open and Mr. Devane step inside.

Without any family or real friends to come as my witness, I’d asked Mr. Devane. Seeing him in the place my parents or grandparents should have been was like a butter knife hacking into my heart.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You look radiant, Alessia.”

I managed the barest of smiles as I smoothed my hands down the gown. “At least my fiancé has good taste.”

Coming into the room, Mr. Devane closed the door. “Alessia, I know this isn’t what you imagined your wedding would look like.”

I made a soft scoff of derision.

“But I encourage you to give this marriage a chance,” he finished, clasping his hands in front of his waist. “I’ve watched you spend years hiding in the background and then taking care of your grandparents. It’s time you lived your own life.”

I pressed a hand to my churning stomach. “It’s all happening so fast. Maybe this is all a mistake.”

“I wouldn’t have encouraged you to try this arrangement if I wasn’t certain it would help you. Remember, we’ve gone through every single facet of the contract, and your husband-to-be has been very generous.” Mr. Devane blew out a breath, shaking his head in amazement.

He was right.

When I’d arrived at Mr. Devane’s office the day after speaking with Miss May, he’d had several contracts drawn up already, all awaiting my signature. He walked me through each one, from the finances all the way to what was expected as a new bride.

I still couldn’t look Mr. Devane in the eye after he told me about some of the things my husband was insisting on, including that I was to sleep in his bed every night he was home and was to keep my pussy waxed bare for the duration of the marriage.

Yeah, Mr. Devane’s face had turned a distressing shade of purple as he’d spluttered that tidbit out, and I’d been pretty sure I would combust on the spot. My first waxing appointment, two days before the wedding, had been quite the experience.

I’d also been given copies of all of my husband’s medical records and lab reports that showed that he was healthy and STI-free, and, according to a fertility specialist, had strong swimmers and would have no issue with procreation.

Just what every girl wanted to know when she was marrying a total stranger.

I knew my fiancè had broken his left arm when he was ten and had his appendix out at nineteen, but I had no idea what his freaking name was.

“Have you seen him?” I asked Mr. Devane, desperate for any info on the man I was about to literally chain myself to for eternity.

Or until I could come up with a valid reason to divorce him. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d cheat on me. That way I could enforce the fidelity clause and walk away with enough money to keep me afloat while bringing Hope’s Heart back to everything it was meant to be.

“Only at a distance. He and his witness were escorted into another room,” Mr. Devane replied. He checked his watch with a wince. “It’s time, Alessia. Would you like me to escort you?”

My stomach clenched as icy droplets of sweat gathered at the base of my spine. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” he countered. “I felt the same way when I was about to marry my wife.”

“But you probably knew her for more than a week,” I retorted.

“Ten days,” Mr. Devane responded.

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“Mrs. Devane and I also had an arranged marriage, and I can assure you it was the best decision I ever made,” he answered with a soft smile. “That is why I think you should give this a chance. Love isn’t a thing that can be constrained or finitely defined. Don’t close yourself off to the possibility of love because it doesn’t fit a norm dictated by a fundamentally broken society.”

I drew in a deep, cleansing breath. “I had no idea.”

“Because there was never a need to tell you,” he replied. “Mrs. Devane and I have been happily married for forty-seven years. And, if I have it my way, we’ll be happily married for the next forty-seven. She is my entire world, and I wouldn’t change a thing about our story.”

“Wasn’t it difficult?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a snort. “But I think it helped that we went into our marriage with the mindset that we were partners. We weren’t blinded by the romantic sort of love movies and books try to convince us we need. Yes, that came later, but what helped us was that we were willing to put in the work. And, Alessia, I know you are no stranger to hard work.”

“Thank you, Mr. Devane,” I managed to croak, my throat tight with emotion. “Thank you for being here, for telling me your story… For everything.”

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be, my dear.” He winked at me. “Except, perhaps, with my wife.”

A laugh bubbled out of me, putting a genuine smile on my face for the first time all day. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”

Holding out an elbow, Mr. Devane flashed me a warm grin. I slipped my arm into his and let him lead me from the bridal suite.

My fiancè had selected an upscale hotel for the ceremony, renting out the top floor restaurant with panoramic views of the city for the event. After our vows, we would go straight to the honeymoon suite.

The crackers I’d managed to choke down earlier felt like a lead ball in my gut as we approached the closed double doors that led to the private space. Each step I took was like another door closing on my past.

Memories of my childhood surged through my mind. Playing with my father, dancing in the kitchen with my mother. Sitting between Nonna and Papa at my parents’ funeral. Nonna teaching me how to cook. Papa showing me an array of brilliant gemstones. Nonna in the hospital. And, finally, Papa’s still body as the coroner came to take him away.

Sniffling, I let a tear roll down my cheek. I didn’t care if I smudged my makeup. We drew to a stop outside the doors.

Mr. Devane squeezed my hand. “If you want to leave?—”

I shook my head, squaring my shoulders. “No. If this will save Hope’s Heart, then I have to try. Besides,” I shot him a small smile, “it worked out well for you.”

“Indeed it did,” he agreed. He reached for the brass door handle and pulled it open to reveal the room inside.

I’d walked through the space earlier out of curiosity, but it hadn’t seemed like much more than an upscale restaurant with gorgeous views of the city I loved.

But that wasn’t what I saw now.

The room was filled with lilies and swaths of gauzy white fabric with twinkling lights nestled inside. They hung around the room in a swooping pattern that led to a white arch that was wrapped with more lilies and lights.

All of the tables and chairs had been removed except for two white folding chairs near the front. A path of white and pale pink flower petals led straight to the arch, where three men stood.

The minister was easiest to spot, with a Bible held in his hands. The other two men had their backs to me. My groom and his… friend? Best man?

I jerked as the first chords of the bridal march started to play from the baby grand piano in the back of the room.

Amazed and awed, I floated forward as in a dream, my eyes locked on the back of the man who was about to be my husband.

He was tall, several inches taller than me. Easily six foot three, with dark hair and broad shoulders. The man beside him was a bit shorter with blond hair, who turned and gave me a dazzling smirk. Winking, he clasped a hand on the other man’s shoulder before retreating to one of the seats.

When I was less than three steps away, the other man turned.

My breath caught, my steps faltering as I looked into the dark eyes of Warwick freaking Forrester.

“You,” I breathed, stunned.

Mr. Devane hesitated at my side, clearly confused by this turn of events.

Warwick lifted a single brow. “Is there an issue, Alessia?”

My mouth opened and snapped shut as my brain whirled. My name formed on his full lips with ease, his rough timbre sending a shiver down my spine. I smothered my reaction as I made sure to remind myself exactly what Warwick Forrester had taken from me.

This man had made it impossible for me to save my grandfather’s company. And I’m sure Ice by Winter wasn’t the only one. This man was clueless about how many small businesses he’d trampled on his path to success.

A tiny kernel of rage formed in my mind, an idea borne of anger and resentment.

He had no idea what he’d stolen from me.

But he would.

I plastered a smile to my face. “No. Just surprised.”

Removing my hand from Mr. Devane, I faced the man who had taken my grandfather’s legacy from me. My voice didn’t wobble once as I pledged the rest of my life to him.

The only thing I couldn’t control was the fine tremors that shook my fingers as Warwick slid a brilliant diamond and platinum band onto my left ring finger. Tears threatened as I realized I’d never wear a ring Papa had designed for me because this man had ruined that.

When the pastor announced us as husband and wife, I numbly lifted my face for him to kiss my lips. I braced myself for revulsion at his touch, but was shocked as his soft lips teased mine open, his hands holding my hips in a way that spoke of an intimate type of possession that had my toes curling.

I was gasping for air when he broke the kiss, giving me a soft smile that made his dark eyes seem to glow.

“Hello, wife,” he murmured as his friend and Mr. Devane politely clapped.

I tipped my head back. “Hello, husband.”

He leaned in to capture my lips again, and I let myself sink into the kiss because damn this man knew how to use his mouth. Hopefully that meant he knew how to do other things as well.

We were married now, and I planned on letting myself enjoy whatever I could from this union before I wrecked his life the same way he’d wrecked mine.