Welcome to Mills & Boon. Jennifer RaeЧитать онлайн книгу.
love.
But it wouldn’t be fair. He wasn’t his father, or even hers. He wouldn’t trap her that way until they had some ground rules down. And as much as he wanted a child, an heir of his own, he needed the plan in place before that happened. No child of his would be used as a tool or a weapon.
Not like Ezekiel had used him and Zeke.
‘I think I know how to handle my own wife.’ Flynn tried to sound amused, confident and true, even though it was a complete lie. Thea, he’d have known how to handle. He’d done the background research, spent time with her, made sure to discuss everything they needed to know about each other.
Except, apparently, the fact that she was in love with his brother.
Still, that aside, he knew Thea. Helena he hadn’t got a clue about.
But he was willing to learn. Had to learn, before he could let himself get close. Had to know if she’d stick with him, stand beside him hereafter, before he let himself believe in this marriage. Which meant keeping his hands off her—even after that kiss.
Ezekiel laughed again, sounding even creakier and wheezier than before. ‘If you believe that, you’re a bigger fool than I took you for. No man ever knows how to truly handle a woman. They thrive on being unpredictable. But you give it a go, if you like. You’ve got two weeks here on honeymoon together. Get her to sign something binding—the same general terms as we agreed for her sister—and I’ll leave you alone to “handle” her. But if you haven’t got the paperwork sorted by the time you come back to London, Thomas and I will take it over.’
Flynn’s fist clenched against the arm of his chair and the other squeezed his glass so hard that a less expensive vessel would have cracked and smashed. This wasn’t just the business they wanted to control. It was him and his future—and Helena’s. He’d thought that Zeke forcing their father to name Flynn as CEO within the year would have meant he could finally take on the power and the role he was meant to have. Instead, he didn’t even seem to have power over his own marriage.
But what else could he do? If he didn’t manage to resolve things with Helena in two weeks he’d look weak anyway. And Flynn knew his father well enough to know he’d use that to his advantage somehow.
‘I will do this,’ he said, his voice firm and dark. ‘Helena is my wife, this is my marriage, and my company before long. I don’t need the two of you interfering like a couple of old women.’
The brandy had mellowed them, Flynn realised when they both laughed. Time was he’d have been punished for speaking in such a way. But the balance of power had changed now, whether they liked it or not. They couldn’t keep him out, or under their control any longer.
‘Then we’ll leave you to get on with that,’ Ezekiel said, getting to his feet. He placed his empty glass on the table, and Thomas followed suit. ‘We’re flying out in the morning, but I’m sure your mother will make sure we see you before we go.’
Flynn nodded. Morning wasn’t far away now. Not long until it was just him, Helena and the elephant of a post-nup in the middle of the villa. He’d fix this. He had to.
Thomas raised a hand in parting and headed out, but Ezekiel paused in the doorway. ‘Two weeks, Flynn. I expect those papers on my desk within twenty-four hours of your return to London, or I’ll take steps.’
He closed the door behind him before Flynn could respond. Flynn stared around his father’s study, at the inner sanctum that was almost, almost his, and thought about going to talk to his wife.
Then he got up and poured himself another brandy instead. One thing at a time, he decided. And tomorrow, once everyone else had gone, was plenty soon enough.
Especially as he had a sneaking suspicion that Helena wasn’t going to like being handled one little bit.
* * *
The bridal suite was bigger than she remembered. Or maybe it just seemed smaller when Thea was in there with her. It hadn’t even been so bad when the maid was there, loosening the laces of her corset and helping her to step out of the heavy wedding dress.
But now it was just her, alone with the dress hanging from the wardrobe door, and Helena didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
A maid had moved her belongings in, presumably during the reception. Helena wondered whether the wedding planner had asked her to do that, or if it had been Isabella. She wondered where Thea’s things had gone.
She wondered where Thea and Zeke were right now.
Shaking her head, Helena moved over to the chest of drawers under the window, looking for her nightwear. The third drawer she opened yielded results, and she pulled out the slippery satin negligee she’d packed in a ridiculous fit of optimism.
‘Just in case,’ Thea had said when they were packing together, back in London. ‘You know, a high percentage of engaged people in a recent study said that they met their partners at a mutual friend’s wedding. You never know who you might meet!’
She’d known what Thea meant, though, by the suggestion. That it was time for Helena to move on. To start living that part of her life again. She’d never talked with her sister about the hours spent with the counsellor, talking through the memories, nodding meaninglessly as she was told she couldn’t blame herself, that what had happened to her didn’t have to define her life. But probably, in Thea’s mind, it had been eight years and that was long enough to dwell.
How could she explain that knowing those things was one thing, and acting on them another entirely?
So instead she’d pointed out that the only people she was likely to meet at a Morrison-Ashton wedding were clients, most of whom were either already married or too married to their jobs for Helena to be interested in them.
And now look at her. Married to the almost CEO of the family business, the man who put the ‘work’ in ‘workaholic’. Perfect.
She shoved the fancy nightie back in the drawer and slammed it shut. Returning to drawer number two, she yanked out a pair of workout shorts and a T-shirt instead. It wasn’t as if Flynn was going to get the chance to appreciate—or even see—whatever she wore to bed tonight anyway.
Flopping back on to her bed, Helena grabbed her phone from where the maid had helpfully plugged it in to charge and set it on the bedside table. As she stared at the dark screen, a wave of homesick longing flooded through her.
She wanted her sister.
She needed Thea there, to talk through all the craziness. She was the only person in the world who could possibly understand and maybe make sense of all the thoughts and feelings and fears whirling around in Helena’s brain right now. Thea would yell, she was pretty sure, and tell her she was an idiot and she didn’t have to do this. She’d probably cry and feel guilty, too.
But she’d help her fix it, one way or another.
With a sigh, Helena dropped the phone on the bed cover beside her. That, of course, was exactly why she couldn’t phone Thea. For the first time in her life, Thea had chosen to go after what she wanted, what would make her happy, rather than staying behind and helping Helena, or the family, or the business. Helena couldn’t jeopardise that by calling her now, throwing her back into the family lunacy. Thea was out and she was happy. And Helena was going to keep it that way.
Which meant she had to fix this herself.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Helena pulled her knees up and turned on her side, small and insignificant in the oversized room. There was another reason not to tell Thea, of course. A horrible, sneaky, underhand reason. One Helena really hoped wasn’t true, but she couldn’t promise that, even to herself.
Did I plan for this to happen?
Thea would ask. Maybe not immediately, but eventually it would come up. Thea had to have known about the crippling crush Helena had nurtured for Flynn when they were teens. At fourteen or fifteen, he’d been all she could