Forbidden Hearts: Collections Of Forbidden Romance

Chapter 1: One Hell Of A Wedding

My steps are slow.

Everyone thinks it's because my wedding gown weighs a fortune. It does, but the real culprit is the ache between my legs.

I shouldn't be recalling what happened last night. I should be focusing on the man on the altar, my soon-to-be husband, but I can't help it. I can't stop my mind from reminding me of last night. Of the warmth of that stranger's strong arms that wrapped around my body. Of his low, husky voice that asked me one last time if I was certain. Of the amber eyes that holds mischievousness.

My heel catches my dress, making me stumble but I catch myself on time before I hit the floor. Gasps rip through the crowd. But I continue forward, thankful that my veil hides my flaming cheeks.

The soft sound of my heels against the marble aisle gets buried under the low, melodic sound of the instruments playing in the background. Hundreds of guests rise to their feet, smiling as they watch me as though I'm the happiest bride alive.

If only they knew.

My fingers tighten around the bouquet until the stems nearly snap.

The closer I get to the altar, the stronger my desire to run away. I wished this wasn't happening. I wished I hadn't been forced by circumstances to make this choice. I wished my father hadn't been friends with this opportunist, who saw my family's bankruptcy as the perfect opportunity to buy himself a young bride.

"...Miss Davenport?" The wedding coordinator whispers urgently.

I snap out of my thoughts, only now realizing I've stopped walking. A hundred pairs of eyes settles on me.

I resume walking, forcing a smile.

"I'm fine." I tell him.

I'm not.

My husband-to-be smiles as I finally reach him.

Robert Westhall, fifty-six year old billionaire. Or trillionaire as some rumors confirmed. Silver-haired. Powerful, respected, and most importantly feared.

Old enough to be my father, or even grandfather.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

He reaches for my hand. I fight every instinct screaming at me to pull away. Instead, I smile. Because that's all I can do.

My father stands in the front row, fighting the bitterness from clouding his exhausted face. For months he'd aged ten years overnight.

The Davenport Group had collapsed beneath impossible debts. Banks refused to lend us money. Investors abandoned us.

Then Lily was diagnosed with stage three cancer. My little sister. She's only eight yet already endured more pain than I've ever had to shoulder.

Her treatment is no little cost. Hospital bills multiple faster than hope itself. Every treatment drained another piece of my parents.

My stepmother barely left the hospital anymore. My father barely left his office.

Then Robert Westhall appeared like a savior. "I'll settle every debt," he said. "I'll restore your company," he added. "I'll pay for every treatment Lily needs."

His only condition... Me. He wanted me to marry him.

My parents kicked against it, but my conscience couldn't let me watch Lily die. It couldn't let me continue watching my father drown in debt. And my stepmother, she would never heal if anything happened to Lily.

The priest begins speaking, but his words drift past me. He preach love. Loyalty. Support. Submission.

Robert squeeze my hand to focus. I swallow the bitterness threatening to spill from my lips.

This is for Dad. For stepmom. For Lily. For Jack. Nothing else matters.

"...Do you take Robert Westhall to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest ask.

My mouth opens. "I—"

A sudden movement near the back of the cathedral catches my attention. My head turns. A tall man dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit leans casually against one of the pillars... Broad shoulders. Dark hair. An annoyingly confident smile.

My heart stops. My ears rings.

No. No... No way. No fucking way.

It can't be.

Those eyes. That smile... The stranger.

The man from last night!

What is he doing here?

My throat goes dry as his gaze locks onto mine with effortless certainty. Then his grin widens as he blows me a kiss.

My fingers go numb. And the wedding ring slips from my trembling fingers.

Clink.

The tiny sound echoes through the silent altar, drawing a gasp through the guests once more.

"Claire? Are you alright?"

Robert's voice drags me back to reality.

Quickly, I turn my head back to Robert. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look pale."

"I... I'm fine." I repeat.

Still, my head can't stay where it should. Unconsciously, I turn my head in that stranger's direction again. Hoping it's my imagination. But it's not. He's still there, grinning lazily at me.

How did he find me?

I wasn't drunk last night. I remembered everything that happened between us, every conversation we had. That includes never telling my identity nor asking for his.

And this morning, I left before he could wake up. So, there shouldn't have been any way he could find me. Yet there he stood, looking entirely too amused. As though this wedding was the biggest joke.

The ceremony somehow continues.

I don't remember saying "I do."

Neither did I recall kissing my husband, nor signing the marriage certificate.

All I remember...were those eyes following me every second.

The reception is worse.

Crystal chandeliers sparkle above while politicians, billionaires, celebrities, and business tycoons congratulate Robert on his marriage.

Everyone praises our "perfect union." No one calls it what it truly is. A transaction.

I smile until my cheeks ache. I accept compliments, pose for photographs, shake hands. All while searching the ballroom. Looking for him.

Every time I think he's gone, I catch another glimpse of that infuriating smile across the room.

Why isn't he leaving?

Is he planning to expose me? Blackmail me? Or crash my wedding?

My pulse refuses to settle.

"Claire." Robert's voice draws me back for the umpteenth time. "I want you to meet someone."

Please... Not another investor. Not another politician. I'm sick of it.

But I smile and give him a faint nod. Robert waves someone over.

A young man steps confidently through the crowd. Conversations seem to quiet as he approach us. His suit is gone, replaced by a cream-colored shirt rolled up his sleeves.

He shoves his hands carelessly into his pockets. And on his face remains that knowing smile that belongs to a professional troublemaker.

The same smile that haunted me all morning.

So, he knows my husband?

My fist clench so tightly I'm afraid my acrylic nails might break.

Robert rests a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Claire," he says warmly, "Meet my son, Arthur."

The world tilts and a loud vibration rings in my ears. I can't hear another word he says. My eyes are wide as saucers. Sweat forms on my palms. My heart beat faster than a moving truck, so much so I'm afraid I'll collapse.

However, the stranger's lips stretches into a slow, knowing grin. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you..."

He pauses just long enough to make my heart pound harder.

"... Lovely Mother... I will take care of you..."

The champagne glass slips from my fingers.