Page 7 of Reckless Love

Three

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.

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