Page 11 of Shattered Hearts
Under the veil, the face that peers out matches my intended’s, but that’s not Harper fucking Brennan staring up at me with wide blue eyes.
Instead, I find her twin sister.
Riley.
Chapter 4
Riley
When Finn lifted my veil, I didn’t expect him to look soobviouslylike he was about to shit a chicken.
Did no one think to tell the groom of his bride’s absence? From the shock on his face, I have to say no. Going off the astonishment, I deduce that he also realizes I’m the wrong twin, but how?
The differences between Harper and me are so subtle that even our cousins often get us confused. My face is a little more angular, and I don’t smile nearly as much as she does.
Has Finn spent enough time with my sister to know I’m not her?
My mouth goes dry. I…wasn’t expecting him to be so damn gorgeous. Like he fell straight out of a menswear catalogue and not the mafia.
Sweet Jesus.
Of course Finn would look amazing in a tux. Is there a hot guy who wouldn’t? But this…just isn’t fair. The tux he’s wearing is obviously custom, the fit so perfect it’s almost like someone spray-painted the tux onto his naked body. Like if I reached out and touched his chest, I’d smudge the paint.
Desire rocks through me so hard, I wish I were dreaming. If this were all a dream, I could tackle him right here, rip his tux off with my teeth, and lick him up and down like a popsicle.
But this shitshow is my real life. And the reality is, even though the groom rejected me years ago and picked my sister, it’s my job to ensure we finish this wedding strong, or everyone in here will see straight through the facade.
My heart pumps faster as Finn closes the little space between us. He slips a hand around the back of my neck as he leans in.
Shit. He’s going to kiss me. He’s actually going to?—
“In about five minutes,” his lips brush the shell of my ear, “you owe me the fucking explanation of a lifetime, Riley Brennan.”
Then his mouth smashes into mine.
For half a second, I’m too shell-shocked to do anything. Then my body catches up with reality, and my lips part.
Heat pools in my core, and I don’t think. I just react.
My eyes drift shut as I slide my hands up Finn’s sculpted biceps. With his left hand around my back, he pulls me flush against his hard chest, deepening the kiss.
He tastes like whiskey and sin and everything I shouldn’t want. But damn, do I want this man.
Someone whistles in the audience, and the minister clears his throat.
My body flushes hot, and my eyes fly open as I pull away.
The congregation’s applause suggests that this finale was worth waiting for.
Why didn’t I stop to think for one second that pretending to be my sister, even for a few hours, would be as pleasant as open-heart surgery with no anesthesia?
Covering my heated face with Harper’s bouquet, I snatch Finn’s hand in mine and launch down the stairs.
On the last step, my ankle twists in my sister’s four-inch Jimmy Choos, and I pitch forward.
Finn tightens his grip on my hand, steadying me before I faceplant. I don’t have time to thank him before he bolts like a bat out of hell, half dragging me back up the aisle while joyful guests shower us with flower petals.
We fly right through the sanctuary doors, through the echoey atrium, and out of the cathedral into the midday light, both of us nearly diving into the backseat of the waiting limousine parked at the curb. I wrestle Harper’s giant train inside, and Finn yanks the door closed.