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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 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 never 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.
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 (#ulink_c18ea0b2-a859-5160-b5d5-855d157696ca)
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.’
He hoped she could hear how much he meant it. Love...maybe that would come and maybe it wouldn’t. But honour, constancy and fidelity—those he could give her.
It was the least he could do, given what he would gain from the bargain. She was his now, along with the respectability and the place she brought him. It was done at last.
Flynn couldn’t help but think he should feel more relieved about that.
* * *
‘I, Helena, take you, Flynn Michael Ashton, to be my husband.’ The words came out strong and clear, and Helena gave silent thanks that the trembling taking over her insides wasn’t visible or audible to the congregation. She’d learnt the vows by heart practising them with Thea; she could recite them with her eyes closed. Which might actually be easier than staring up into Flynn’s face, trying to look suitably besotted and loving.
Every single person listening was waiting to see if they’d really go through with it. Maybe some thought it was a stunt, some crazy PR thing. Maybe they even believed that Thea would appear from the wings to take her rightful place at any moment.
Wow. Those people were going to be really disappointed.
Most people, Helena suspected, were just waiting to see if this marriage would really happen, and hoping that at some point over the next few hours they’d find out why.
