Page 8 of Reckless Love

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?”

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