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No, even this wasn’t enough for him to forgive her. She couldn’t imagine why she’d ever thought it would be. That all of this could be anything except a huge mistake.
‘I like to think she’ll be my partner rather than my problem,’ Flynn murmured back, and Helena’s gaze flew to his face in surprise.
Maybe, just maybe, marrying Flynn wasn’t a mistake. Maybe it was an opportunity.
Maybe it could even be her future.
With a bright smile, Helena turned, gave her father a dry peck on the cheek, then stepped forward in bright pink shoes to meet it.
CHAPTER TWO
HELENA’S HAND FELT warm in his, an unexpected heat in the cool shade of the chapel. There wasn’t a lot of warmth coming from the congregation either. More frosty confusion and comments as sharp as icicles. Flynn squared his shoulders as they took the last couple of steps up to the altar together. He’d known this wouldn’t be an easy sell but if there was one thing he’d learnt growing up as the cuckoo in the Ashton nest, it was how to smooth over ruffled feathers.
It was a talent that had served him well in business, too. He was the one they brought in when Ezekiel Ashton had offended an investor or a client. The one who talked secretaries into staying when they’d had the sharp edge of Zeke Senior’s tongue one too many times.
But, more than that, he was the one who made things happen. Not by making threats, as Ezekiel did, or taking risks and dares as Zeke would have done, but by gentling people along until they almost thought whatever Flynn wanted was their own idea.
The same way he’d persuaded Thea to marry him, in fact.
But Helena was the plan now. He just had to smooth the way forward for them. Make it so that everyone realised that, while this particular wedding was unexpected, it was just what they’d all really wanted all along, even if they hadn’t known it.
He’d made a good start at that, he hoped, with his comment to Thomas. After all, Thomas might own half the business but he’d leave it to Helena in the end, once she was married to him. He might even disown Thea altogether after today, not that it made much difference. Zeke had made it clear that he was never coming back to Morrison-Ashton. Flynn would be CEO within the year and he’d have Helena at his side.
Which meant Helena, not Thomas, was the important one now.
Another talent Flynn had learnt young: identify the vital person and focus on them. In a family argument, the vital person varied. Usually it was Ezekiel because he was the head of the household, the ultimate authority. Sometimes it was Isabella because her own power, especially over Ezekiel, couldn’t be ignored. Occasionally it was Zeke, but only when two brothers teaming up together could win their parents round to their way of thinking, which wasn’t often.
It went without saying that Flynn was never that vital person.
But he wasn’t a mistake or an accident, not any more. Not an unfortunate addition or a spare part, to be dragged out when he could be useful. He was what the company needed. What the family needed. And all he needed was Helena.
He squeezed Helena’s hand, just a small measure of reassurance as the priest smiled at them. Had the old man not realised that there was something amiss today? It was possible. Thea had been out the one time he’d come to call on them. The priest had spoken to Flynn and Helena instead, and had nodded amiably when Flynn had leant forward to murmur their names to him again before Helena walked down the aisle, just to make sure he got it right in the service. It was entirely possible that the man holding the Bible firmly believed that he was joining a young couple in love in the binding act of marriage.
Well, Flynn was on board with the binding part, at least.
As they knelt before the priest, he heard a gasp go up from the congregation behind them. Frowning, he glanced over at his bride and saw her trying to hide a smile behind her hand.
‘What?’ he mouthed, raising an eyebrow.
Helena gave a tiny shake of her head, but lowered her hand long enough to whisper, ‘I think they just clocked the shoes.’
Of course. Those ridiculous pink shoes.
Flynn kept his eyes on the floor in front of him. In all honesty, he quite liked the shoes. Liked the flash of colour and spirit they showed, just like the woman wearing them had when she’d stepped into that wedding dress at the last moment. They were right for Helena.
But they weren’t appropriate for a Morrison-Ashton bride, of course. Not for a formal, prestigious event like this. Especially when they were on the wrong feet.
He couldn’t let those pink high heels ruin everything. Everything else could go perfectly, Helena could be a perfect blushing bride, and all it would take would be the wrong society matron friend of his mother’s saying, ‘But did you see those shoes?’ and suddenly everyone would have permission to pick the whole marriage apart.
As if they weren’t going to do that anyway.
Flynn sighed, resigned himself to making the best of a bad day and tried to tune in to what the priest was saying. Before he knew it, they were at the only part of the service that really mattered—the promises and vows.
‘Flynn and Helena, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to each other in marriage?’ The priest intoned the words with the sort of gravity that made it clear these were serious questions.
Flynn exchanged a fleeting glance with Helena as they both answered, ‘Yes.’ He wondered if she was thinking the same thing that he was—that he had many, many reservations about this. But he was going to go through with it anyway.
‘Will you honour each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?’
‘I will,’ Flynn said, Helena’s agreement coming just a heartbeat behind.
She’d said it now, and that knowledge filled Flynn with triumph. The rest of their lives. That was exactly how long he needed to prove he deserved this—his place in the
family and the business. He knew the board members and the investors. He knew what they needed in order to believe in and respect Flynn’s new place at Morrison-Ashton.
Ezekiel Ashton had made it clear for years that Flynn didn’t count, that he wasn’t a true heir. Even if Zeke hadn’t known it, everyone else associated with the business had never doubted for a moment that Zeke was the one who’d inherit.
But not any more. Now that place was Flynn’s and the next few moments would cement it for life.
‘Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?’
Beside him, Helena sucked in a breath, just loud enough for him to hear. As if she was steeling herself for something unpleasant. He frowned.
‘I will,’ Helena said, strong and clear, but Flynn couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just missed something important.
Like saying his line.
‘I will,’ he said, aware of the priest’s waiting gaze.
‘Good.’ The priest cracked a creaky smile. ‘Then, next, we have the vows. Flynn?’
He’d memorised this, had been prepared to stare into Thea’s eyes and say just the right words. But now, as he turned to face his bride and take her hand, looking down further than he’d expected to, Flynn realised he hadn’t a clue what her middle name was.
His panic must have shown on his face because Helena rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘Juliette’ at him, allowing his heartbeat to return to normal again.
‘I, Flynn, take you, Helena Juliette Morrison, to be my wife.’ She smiled as he spoke, and Flynn relaxed into the familiar words. ‘I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you, all the days of my life.’
