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As a child, he’d been surplus to requirements, an inconvenience once the Ashtons had what they’d really wanted all along. And, as he’d grown older, he’d been a weapon in his father’s hand, used to whip Zeke into shape, to make him earn his inheritance by fighting Flynn for every advantage, every opportunity. But as the husband of Thea—or Helena—Morrison, Flynn would be legitimate. Deserving.
He’d belong at last.
Taking Helena’s hand, he led her out of Thea’s dressing room, down the stairs and out of the front door into the blazing Tuscan sunshine. With her body close against his, he could feel the tension in its lines and wondered how fast her heart must be beating right now. Maybe even as hard and fast as his.
Because, despite all his rational thoughts, Flynn couldn’t quite lie to himself well enough to pretend there wasn’t a chance this would prove to be a colossal mistake. This doesn’t have to be a permanent arrangement. Helena’s words echoed around his head. To her, this was only temporary; she was a stand-in bride for the occasion. But temporary didn’t fulfil Flynn’s needs for this marriage.
He needed permanence, he needed authenticity and he needed heirs. That was the plan and, given everything else that had gone wrong, he had to cling on to those facts. Once he married Helena, she was his for life.
He’d just have to figure out a way to convince her that he could be enough for her, that he was worth staying for. Once they got through this horrendous, confusing day.
Flynn blinked in the sunlight. Everything felt somehow more real outside. The summer sounds on the breeze—insects and dry leaves—disappeared behind a peal of bells from the chapel below.
This was really happening. Maybe not the way he’d planned, but the outcome would be more or less the same. He would have made it at last, the moment Helena said ‘I do’. And she would, he was sure. She’d been so fierce, so determined to make this work. Why? he wondered suddenly. What did it matter to her? Or was she just so afraid of their parents’ wrath that she’d do anything to appease them?
Maybe he’d ask her. Afterwards.
They walked down the path to the chapel in silence, as quickly as Helena’s heels would allow. Flynn glanced down at her feet, catching glimpses of the flamingo-pink satin heels that would have matched her bridesmaid’s dress. Thea must have run out in her shoes.
Helena’s gaze flicked down and she gave him a rueful smile. ‘She took the veil, too. Shame, really. We could have kept my face hidden until it was all over, otherwise.’
Something caught in Flynn’s chest. Maybe his wedding to Thea hadn’t been a grand epic romance but it had been better than this. Helena deserved better than this.
‘I don’t want to hide you,’ he said, hoping it was enough. ‘You’re going to be my wife. And I’m proud to have you at my side.’ All true, even if he was more proud of her name than her person, for now. But Helena had been a sweet child and, since they’d started the wedding planning, a helpful, cheerful woman. Flynn had no doubt that in time he’d grow even fonder of her. Perhaps they’d even fall in love, if they were very lucky. As he’d hoped to do with Thea.
Helena’s smile was a little sad but there was no more time to talk. As they rounded the corner to the chapel Thomas Morrison came into view, waiting to walk his daughter down the aisle.
‘Helena! Where on earth is Thea? The mob is getting restless in there...’ He stopped, staring at her as he took in the dress.
Flynn stepped forward, ready to jump the first hurdle for the pair of them. ‘I’m afraid, sir, there’s been a slight change of plan...’
* * *
As the string quartet struck up a new tune, Helena realised that, at the back of her mind, she’d expected her father to call their bluff. To tell them the whole idea was ridiculous and send everyone home. At the very least, she’d thought he’d have put up some sort of argument for reason.
But apparently it didn’t much matter to him which of his daughters Flynn Ashton married, as long as he married one of them. Today.
The revelation stung a little more than she’d imagined it would after so many years of not being good enough.
This time, please, this time, she was going to be good enough.
‘That’s our cue,’ her father whispered in her ear as the violins picked up the melody.
Helena nodded, focusing on not gripping her father’s arm too hard as the church doors swung open.
She was really doing this. Marrying Flynn Ashton. And there was no parent or spurned lover about to run in and yell: Stop the wedding! Nobody to tell her she was making a colossal mistake, if she was. How could she tell, anyway? This wedding would get them through today and, right now, that was all that mattered. After that...well, she’d figure out what happened next once all these people had gone home.
It had been too much to hope that people might not notice that Flynn was marrying the wrong sister. From the moment the doors opened and Helena took her first step on to the tiled floor of the aisle, there were whispers. They ran through the pews like a wave, the cool and shady chapel suddenly buzzing with scandal and gossip. Helena couldn’t make out the words but she could guess the sentiment.
What’s happened? What’s gone wrong? How did he end up with her? What does this mean...?
There were going to be a lot of questions over the next few hours, days and weeks, Helena realised. They’d got off lightly with her dad because there simply wasn’t the time. People were waiting, and Thomas Morrison would not disappoint them. You came to see my daughter get married? Well, here you go. What do you mean, it’s the wrong one?
Helena tried to suppress a giggle at the thought of her father trying to convince his guests that this marriage was what he’d intended all along, but a small squeak escaped. Her father’s hand tightened on her arm and, when she glanced up at him, his expression was grim.
Suddenly, nothing was funny any more. Helena tried to focus on the posies of white flowers tied with satin ribbons at the end of each pew, or the pedestal displays—anything except the truth she saw in her father’s face.
She’d thought that this would be enough, that marrying Flynn would make up for the past. But her father’s expression told another story. If it didn’t matter to him which of his daughters got married today, it didn’t mean a thing.
Her slate would never be wiped clean, no matter what she did or how far she went. If eight years of being a perfect daughter hadn’t been enough, why on earth had she imagined that marrying Flynn might do it? Thomas Morrison held grudges, and he held on tight. The best she could hope for was that Thea would be in so much trouble that she might eclipse Helena’s own mistakes for a while.
Thea. How was she ever going to explain this to Thea?
Thea would have stopped her. But Thea was off chasing her own happy ever after, and Helena had stepped right into the very shoes she’d tried to talk her sister out of just a few days before.
Helena glanced down and caught a glimpse of her bright pink bridesmaid’s shoes. Not quite Thea’s white satin heels, after all. And this wedding, and everything that would follow, wasn’t quite as it would have been for Thea, either. There was less paperwork, for a start. Just a scribbled unofficial contract at complete odds with the thirty-page document that had comprised Thea and Flynn’s prenuptial agreement.
But, more than that, Helena wasn’t Thea. She wasn’t the face of the business and she was neither qualified nor willing to take on her sister’s role at the company, presuming that Thea didn’t come home to take it back herself. She was still a Morrison, and maybe that was enough for Flynn and his father.
For the first time since she’d entered the church, Helena looked past the flowers, the hats and the gossips and stared at her husband-to-be. Standing there beside the priest, his feet slightly apart, hands behind his back, Flynn looked solid. Calm, reliable, steady. All the things Helena had nev
er thought she wanted in her life until eight years ago. Things she’d thought she’d never be able to find, since.
A casual observer, watching his serene expression, would never guess that the woman he was marrying today wasn’t the woman he’d proposed to.
Maybe Helena could earn some of that serenity for herself, by marrying Flynn. If she could be what he needed, then surely he could be enough for her. She just couldn’t help but wonder how much he was going to ask of her, before she reached that magical point of enough.
Give the company an heir.
Terrifying words—words that sent a shudder through her whole body. But they were just words, part of Flynn’s agreement with Thea. Not with her. Never her. Because he couldn’t know, wouldn’t understand—and so she couldn’t tell him what a baby would mean to her. How it might destroy her, this time, just to think about it.
The past only stayed in the past until it got dragged into the present. Hadn’t Thea and Zeke proved that?
Too late to question what she was doing now, anyway. He’d given her an out and she hadn’t taken it. To run at this point would be worse than if she’d never suggested this stupid idea in the first place. No one would ever forgive her for humiliating Flynn Ashton on his wedding day—for letting it happen twice.
No, she was getting married today and all she could do now was make the most of it, until enough time had passed for a discreet divorce.
Head held high, Helena continued to stare down the aisle at her intended husband until suddenly he looked up and met her gaze. His eyes were steady and serious, just like the man himself. Flynn Ashton was stable, reliable—everything Helena needed in her life. He wouldn’t let her screw up again; she knew it.
They reached the front row of seats and Flynn stepped forward to meet them for the ceremonial giving away of the bride. As she disentangled her hand from her father’s arm, he leant in towards Flynn. ‘She’s your problem now, son,’ he muttered, and Helena’s heart stung.
