Seventeen
Alice Horvath—matriarch of the Horvath family, former CEO of Horvath Corporation and creator of Match Made in Marriage—surveyed the candlelit, flower-bedecked room and tried to ignore the trepidation that filled her. She didn’t know why she was so nervous about the union of her third-eldest grandson, Galen, to a woman who was so perfect for him it had actually brought tears to her eyes when she’d made the match. But for some reason, despite all her usual attention to detail, she felt as though she didn’t have quite her usual grip on what would happen next.
Their future happiness was her only goal, but for once she couldn’t see that far ahead for them as clearly as she did with the others. If they made it, it would require hard work and commitment from them both. Had she taken an unnecessary risk? Galen had said he didn’t want a grand passion, but everyone deserved that, didn’t they?
She thought of her late husband, Eduard, and tonight missed him more keenly than she had in a long time. But she wasn’t ready to rest in peace with him yet. She still had too much work to do, and the success of this marriage was a part of that, no matter what secrets it brought out of the woodwork.
* * *
Galen closed his eyes briefly then started as he felt a small hand take his and give it a squeeze.
“It’ll be okay,” Ellie whispered. “She’s going to love you.”
He squeezed back gently. “She’s going to love us,” he affirmed.
He flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his suit sleeve and looked sideways at his best girl. Ellie grinned back up at him, and Galen felt his heart swell. Both his brother, Valentin, and his cousin Ilya had offered to stand here at the altar with him but this wasn’t about a traditional marriage. This was about providing security for nine-year-old Ellie, so it made sense that she stand up with him as he married a total stranger. Poor kid; she deserved so much better than him, but he was doing his best by her, and would continue to do so for the rest of his life.
When he’d assumed guardianship of Ellie after her parents’ shocking and sudden deaths in a car crash just over three months ago, his life as he’d known it had come to a screaming halt. No more wild parties. No more playboy lifestyle. All the commitment he’d dodged for most of his adult life had come to him in one complete package. He hadn’t been ready for it, but then neither had his best friends, Ellie’s mom and dad, expected to die, either.
He cast one more look around the room, ensuring everything was as it should be. He wouldn’t be the CEO of Horvath Hotels and Resorts without triple-checking everything all the time. He knew how to keep people happy—all kinds of people. Surely, that would help when it came to keeping his new wife happy, too?
“She’s here!” Ellie whispered hoarsely. “And she’s so pretty.”
Galen looked to the door at the end of the carpeted aisle in the function room and, honest to God, felt his breath catch in his lungs. Pretty? No, that didn’t even begin to describe the woman paused there at the end. Her face was a picture of serenity, her head poised on a long, graceful neck. Her hair was pulled back in a loose updo that made his fingers itch to extract each and every pin and let her hair fall down over the slender bare shoulders exposed by her strapless gown. Her skin glowed. A diamond drop necklace sat low on her décolletage, drawing his eyes to the rapid rise and fall of her chest—to the hint of the soft swell of her breasts, framed by the gown’s neckline. His gaze drifted lower, to the tiny waist cinched in a satin sash with a cluster of silk and diamanté flowers and then to the three tiers of flowing shimmering fabric that spread like a cloud around her.
“She looks like a princess,” Ellie said, loudly this time so that everyone in the room turned their heads and a collective gasp of awe filtered through the air.
“Let’s make her our queen, shall we?” Galen said and, still holding Ellie’s hand, he walked toward his bride.
As they drew closer, he noticed the flickering pulse in her neck. So perhaps she wasn’t quite as serene as she projected. That was fine by him. In a way, he’d have felt some reserve about marrying someone who wasn’t just a little rattled at the prospect of meeting their future life partner for the first time at the altar. And while he’d seen his brother and his cousin make successful matches that way, he’d never for a moment considered it for himself. Truth be told, he’d never even considered marriage before Ellie.
The woman’s eyes flared slightly, her bluish-gray irises almost consumed by her pupils in the candlelight.
“My groom, I presume?” she said in a voice that was a tiny bit husky and a whole lot of nervous.
“Galen Horvath, at your service,” he said, taking her free hand and lifting it to his lips.
Her skin was warm and lightly scented. Something sweet, with a hint of vanilla and a slightly headier spice. A slight tremor of her hand made him release his hold.
Never one to be shy, his best girl piped up. “And I’m Ellie. Will you marry us?”
A smile tweaked the woman’s lips. “Both of you? Now, there’s a bargain,” she said as her smile widened and her eyes sparkled with obvious delight. “The answer is yes. I’m Peyton Earnshaw, and I would be delighted to marry you.”
Galen felt something shift deep inside as he watched her. Her smile, her manner, her scent. It all coalesced into something powerful inside him. Lust, he told himself. Pure physical attraction; that was all it was. And it was far, far more than he’d anticipated experiencing on meeting his bride. The tension that had gripped him all day began to ease. This was going to be okay. They were going to be okay, he corrected himself.
* * *
Peyton had done a lot of things in the pursuit of investigative journalism, but she’d never gotten married before. When she’d decided to do an exposé on Alice Horvath she’d been delighted to discover an old college acquaintance among Alice’s staff. And when she’d learned the matriarch’s own grandson was searching for a bride, she’d called in an old debt and secured Michelle’s assistance gaming the system to match Peyton’s profile with the grandson’s. The fact that the matchmaking results could be manipulated like that lent weight to Peyton’s argument that Alice Horvath’s company was a complete fraud in the first place.
Peyton swallowed her nerves as, flanked by Galen Horvath and Ellie, she walked down the aisle toward the celebrant, who waited with a benevolent smile. She’d been prepared to do anything to achieve her goal—even marry a stranger—and now here she was.
Acutely aware of the warm strength of Galen’s hand holding hers, she tried to calm the unaccustomed racing of her heart. He was just a man. Seriously, her groom could have been anyone—but he wasn’t. He was one of Alice Horvath’s many grandchildren. He could have been short, tall, thin, full figured, hirsute. He was tall, more handsome than any star she’d seen at the movies lately, and he exuded a charisma that she felt pulling on her in ways she’d never expected. And his touch was doing weird things to her insides. Things that she prided herself on not feeling. Things she’d inured herself to—by choice. She wasn’t some naive creature full of unrealistic expectations. Oh sure, she knew you could fall in love, but she also knew the pain of a stupid decision made in the heat of the moment, and she wasn’t going to make that kind of mistake ever again.
“Everything okay?”
A soft whisper of breath caressed her ear as Galen