Welcome to Mills & Boon. Jennifer RaeЧитать онлайн книгу.
yet Flynn found himself agreeing that it was the best of a short list of bad options. Maybe it wasn’t the original strategy, but it could at least be considered a contingency plan. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t discussed the possibility with his father, before settling on Thea as the most beneficial to the company.
This wasn’t a love match and it never had been. Whichever of the Morrison sisters walked down the aisle on his arm, the purpose was served. Thea might have understood a little better what she was letting herself in for, but Helena wasn’t completely ignorant of the situation either.
Morrison-Ashton needed this. Its board, investors—everyone—needed to know that the future of the company was in safe hands.
And hands didn’t come safer than Flynn Ashton’s.
Flynn had his own reasons for wanting the match, of course, but surely Helena would realise that too. Thea had, quickly enough.
The company needed the PR boost and, even before he’d really believed he might inherit it one day, Morrison-Ashton had always been Flynn’s priority. Now he stood to be CEO within the year...and he needed this more than ever. He needed the authenticity the match gave him. Married to one of the Morrison sisters, it wouldn’t matter that he wasn’t true Ashton blood. His adoption ceased to matter. Even the fact that his adoption had come through just as Ezekiel and Isabella Ashton had discovered that they were expecting their own flesh and blood child, Zeke, lost meaning as anything more than a crippling irony.
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