He Left Me At The Altar, Unaware I Had His Son

Antonela Bianchi slid onto a stool at the counter of the hottest bar in town.

She ordered a glass of cognac and threw it back in a single swallow.

She didn't care that she was still in her wedding gown, or that she was about to become the talk of the town. All she wanted was to forget she had been abandoned at the altar.

She ordered another, hoping to drown the memory of the day.

Antonela had agreed to an arranged marriage with a man she knew only by name.

Though she knew nothing of his background, she had been excited. Benjamin was a wealthy man who could offer her a stable future. She had eagerly awaited their wedding, only for it to end in this public humiliation.

The church had been packed, the music swelling to fill the space. It did little to mask the crushing turmoil in her heart when the news came: the groom wasn't coming.

At twenty-two, her dreams of building a family and having children had just been shattered.

She left the church. But instead of locking herself away to cry, she came to this bar.

In that moment, her future had vanished. She was now her family's greatest disappointment.

She wished she could find Benjamin, just once, to make him pay for what he'd done to her. But it was too late. Everything was ruined. All that was left was another drink, and the promise of forgetting, if only for one night.

"Is there a costume party in town I don't know about?" a man's voice murmured close to her ear, and Antonela rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed tonight was some smartass making a crack about her dress.

Lost in her misery, she hadn't even heard him approach. She turned, a sharp retort on her lips, but the words died in her throat.

His gaze was deep, so intense it felt like it could strip her soul bare. But what truly stole her breath and held her captive was how utterly striking he was.

"A costume party would be the least of my problems," she forced out, her voice tight as she offered a wry, humorless smile. "Today was supposed to be my wedding, but the bastard left me at the altar."

The man glanced away, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips before it vanished.

Her eyes lingered on him, tracing the sharp lines of his face.

He was powerful; she could see the hard lines of his chest and shoulders through his white dress shirt, the top few buttons undone. His face was all sharp angles, his eyes a startling, intense green.

"I'm sorry to hear that." His words pulled her back to reality.

"Don't be," she replied, looking away. "Come to think of it, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Imagine if he had shown up, and I found out he was hideous, or had a bunch of weird habits and addictions."

The man seemed entertained by her candor. He signaled the bartender, but only asked for a bottle of water. Strange.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long swallow.

"I don't want to talk. Why would I tell a stranger I was forced to marry a man I'd never even seen? And even though I've never laid eyes on the man, I'm still miserable about being abandoned. God knows why," she grumbled into her glass. "Who wouldn't want to marry Antonela Bianchi?"

No, really, he thought, his eyes tracing her profile. Only a fool would let her go.

She was a natural redhead, her gray eyes a striking contrast to her freckled skin. The way her full lips closed around the rim of the glass as she took her tenth drink sent an unexpected jolt of desire through him.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he murmured, his voice low. "A walk might help clear your head." He shifted closer, and the light brush of his arm against hers sent a shiver down her spine.

"That's a great idea," she breathed, the thought of being with him sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

She pushed herself to her feet, a little unsteady from the alcohol. She swayed, and he was there in an instant, his hand closing firmly around her waist to steady her. His touch was firm, his scent intoxicating.

She'd kicked off her heels sometime ago. Barefoot, she left the bar by his side. He kept a steadying hand on her until she was settled in the passenger seat of his car.

If Antonela had been sober, she would have known getting into a stranger's car was insane. But she was drunk, and the thought never even crossed her mind. She let him lead her into a hotel, and his heated kisses stole the breath from her lungs.

Through the haze, she vaguely registered him murmuring another woman's name—not hers—but in that moment, she didn't care.

When she woke the next day, she was alone, tangled in a sheet, with no clear memory of how she'd gotten there.

She was slowly pulling on her dress, her head throbbing with a relentless ache, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She glanced at the screen and recognized the name. Dominique.

She answered but said nothing, bracing for the inevitable flood of words.

"Where are you, Antonela?" Dominique's voice was a frantic buzz in her ear. "Your mother has called me a dozen times since yesterday..."

"Don't, Dom," she interrupted her best friend. "Just come get me. I'm at the hotel near the entrance to the city. I think I did something reckless."

"What did you do, Antonela?" her friend asked, her voice laced with worry.

"We'll talk later, I promise," she said, her head pulsing. "And please, bring painkillers. My head is killing me."

It was clear Dominique wanted to press for more, but Antonela ended the call.

She gave a cursory look for her shoes, but they were nowhere to be found. With a frustrated sigh, she left the hotel in her rumpled wedding dress, barefoot. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a tangled mess. She stopped on the curb in front of the building and waited for Dominique to come get her.

Twenty minutes later, a beat-up old compact pulled up to the curb. She slid into the passenger seat, meeting her best friend's horrified gaze.

"What are you doing at this hotel?" Dominique breathed, her eyes wide as the pieces clicked into place. "Oh my God. Don't tell me you..."

"Slept with a stranger after being left at the altar by another stranger?" Antonela finished for her, a bitter humor in her tone. "Yep. That's exactly what I did. But he was so gorgeous, Dom."

"You're telling me you slept with a man and you don't even know his name?" Antonela's silence was answer enough. "You're joking, right?"

"I was going to sleep with a stranger either way," she replied, massaging her temples. "At least this time, I got to see his face. And he was the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life."

Dominique drove her home in stunned silence. The moment Antonela walked through the door, she was met with a wall of reproachful glares from her parents. She knew she had just traded one disaster for another.