Читать книгу Welcome to Mills & Boon - Jennifer Rae - Страница 26

CHAPTER FOUR

‘WELL. THAT WAS a day.’ Thomas Morrison collapsed into one of the wing chairs by the fire of Ezekiel’s study. ‘Tell me you keep the good brandy in here, old friend?’

‘Of course I do,’ Ezekiel answered, his tone irritable. ‘Flynn?’

As his father settled himself into the other wing chair, Flynn moved to the hidden drinks cabinet Ezekiel had found within the first thirty minutes of occupying the office and pulled out three of the good glasses. He deserved a drink, after today. More than just a sip of champagne or half a glass of wine with dinner. He’d held it together all day long, turned a potential disaster into a victory, and now he was about to be cross-examined on his actions by his father and father-in-law.

He was owed this brandy.

‘So.’ Ezekiel studied him as Flynn handed out the brandies, placing his own on the low table between them as he dragged another chair over. ‘You’re a married man now.’

‘My son-in-law,’ Thomas added, as if either of these facts might have eluded Flynn so far that day.

‘This is true.’ Sitting, Flynn stretched his long legs out in front of him, feeling the aches from standing too long in thin-soled shoes. Brandy would help with those too, he decided.

‘So perhaps you would care to explain exactly what you were thinking?’ Ezekiel’s icy tone would have made a weaker man shiver, but Flynn was used to it. Obviously the old man had been working up to this all day. Better to let him get it out.

‘I was thinking about the best course of action in an unfortunate situation.’ Flynn kept his gaze steadily on his father’s face as he spoke.

‘We had a plan! We had a contract, signed and agreed, ready to come into force the moment the girl said “I do”! Now what do we have? A dumb blonde who knows nothing about the company, who can’t provide the PR boost we needed, and who you married without a pre-nup so will probably run off with some footballer or something before you even reach your first anniversary!’ Ezekiel turned briefly towards Thomas. ‘No offence.’

Helena’s father merely shrugged. ‘None taken. Helena has never been the most reliable of my daughters. But, you have to admit, she did step up today.’

‘Yes, she did. And we’d be in a far worse position if she hadn’t.’ Flynn rubbed a hand across his forehead, suddenly tired. ‘Look. Helena has agreed to negotiate a new marriage contract the moment the guests are gone and the buzz dies down. Beyond that...perhaps she doesn’t have Thea’s business skills, but she has other talents.’

‘I bet she does,’ Ezekiel muttered darkly. Flynn ignored the implication.

‘She’s a great hostess, very personable and appealing. And, most importantly, she has the best interests of our families, and the company, at heart. It was her idea to stand in for Thea this morning. She wanted to protect her sister’s reputation and preserve this whole wedding of the year spectacle.’ Of course, she’d also wanted to avoid having to tell their parents what had happened to Thea and Zeke. Something Flynn had great sympathy with.

‘Ah, yes, her sister.’ Ezekiel sat back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. ‘At some point we need to discuss what happened to the unreliable Thea. But what’s done is done. What matters now is what we do next. Thomas? What do you think?’

Thomas sighed as he contemplated his daughter. Flynn’s jaw clenched at the sound of it.

‘Helena’s a good girl, mostly. Had her moments, of course, but I hope that we’re past those now. Isabella thinks that maybe that’s why she took Thea’s place. To prove she was ready to put the past behind her.’

‘Does she?’ Ezekiel nodded. ‘Good insight, that woman. One of the reasons I married her.’

And still he didn’t find it strange that his wife discussed this with his business partner, not himself, Flynn thought. The relationships between his and Helena’s parents still baffled him.

He frowned as Thomas’s words sank in. ‘What past? What happened?’ What was he missing here? His memories of Helena were of the sweet golden child Thomas had talked about in his speech. Maybe she seemed a little more prickly these days, underneath that smooth and charming surface, but Flynn had never really been close enough to investigate further.

He would have to investigate now, though. And he needed all the intelligence he could get going into that.

But apparently he wasn’t going to get it tonight.

‘Nothing that needs to worry you now, son.’ Thomas gave him a kind smile and Flynn tried not to flinch at his use of the word ‘son’ as an endearment. Ezekiel had never managed that. Not once in thirty years. But then, Thomas had always wanted a son and never got one. Ezekiel had longed for one then got two by accident.

How could he have ever hoped to compete with biology?

‘An heir and a spare; that’s what a man needs.’ The words echoed in Flynn’s head from nearly twenty years ago. His father, in another study, with a different glass in his hand, still handing down pronouncements and never, ever listening. ‘But you don’t ever want to have to use the spare, if you can avoid it. And in this case...well, blood is blood. And yours isn’t mine.’

He remembered the moment so clearly. He’d always known he was adopted; no one had even tried to hide it. But standing there in front of his father as he’d explained exactly why Flynn would never matter, would never be good enough, would never truly count...he could still feel the stabbing pains in his heart now, so many years later.

Flynn rubbed absently at his chest as his father set down his brandy glass on the table and prepared to pass judgement.

‘She’ll do as she’s told,’ Ezekiel pronounced. ‘And if she doesn’t...well, you can always get her pregnant. That tends to calm a woman down. Just make sure she signs the papers before the child is born!’ His father’s wheezy laugh rattled through him like a curse, and Thomas joined in after only a moment.

I can’t sleep with her, Flynn thought, trying to keep his horrified disgust to himself, even as the bile rose up in his throat. It might be the obvious way to keep Helena at his side—crushing any chance of an annulment, for a start, and bringing them together, showing her that there could be something good between them. Something that could maybe even grow into 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 think about. He was kind, serious, and his eyes had mesmerised her. Not boring blue like hers, but pools of molten caramel. Helena had written embarrassingly awful poetry about his eyes. But, more than anything, he hadn’t treated her like ‘little Helena’ the way everyone else did. He’d seen her as a real person, not just a silly child. A woman, even, with her own dreams and ideas. And he’d encouraged her to go after them.

Of course, he’d been six years older and already away at university then, home only for holidays and birthdays. Maybe that was part of it—he wasn’t around her enough to be irritated by the little hanger-on, the way Thea and Zeke had been. It had also ensured that Flynn had remained completely oblivious to her affections. And Helena wasn’t about to let him find out now.

But Thea must have realised. Isabella certainly had. And since that was still...before, she’d been sympathetic, even caring and protective of Helena’s feelings.

That crush was a decade old, of course, but the thought still lingered. Had she manipulated things so that she was the one who ended up in the wedding dress? She didn’t think so—and, even if she had, she didn’t think Thea and Zeke would be complaining. But she’d certainly jumped into that dress quickly enough.

She’d told Flynn, and herself, that it was all to save face, to protect the family—even to protect Flynn from any embarrassment. But, at the heart of it, had she married him because a part of her had never truly moved on from that crippling teenage crush?

Helena wasn’t sure.

But she knew a crush wasn’t enough of a reason to stay married, and neither was family loyalty. Just as she’d told Thea. And she already knew she wouldn’t be able to give Flynn the future he wanted.

Still...

Maybe it was the champagne talking or the lack of food, but Helena couldn’t shake one lingering thought. Even if it wasn’t forever...could she really pass up the opportunity to live out the wedding night her fourteen-year-old self had dreamed of so often?

Her stomach clenched at just the idea of it. Could she even try? Thea, the counsellor—everyone had told her she had to move on with her life. Had to open up to intimacy again. And she’d tried, of course she had, but it had never felt quite...safe.

Flynn was safe. A laugh bubbled up as she remembered her father calling him ‘a safe pair of hands’. But he was right. Flynn would never hurt her, or make her do anything she didn’t want. And he was enough of a gentleman that if she changed her mind she was pretty sure he’d not just let her go but never even mention it again.

And he was her husband. Even if she wouldn’t—couldn’t—give him children, she could give him this. Give them this. And didn’t they deserve something good at the end of this horrendous day?

It would be good, she knew. Better than good. She might not have a lot to compare it to, but that kiss...she’d almost melted at his feet right then. How could anything that led on from that kiss be less than spectacular?

Helena swallowed, made herself sit up. This was the rest of her life, starting today. She’d done her part and now they were all even. She wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to make up for things—she’d done everything that she could. And maybe she and Flynn wouldn’t make this marriage last longer than it took the ink to dry on the divorce papers, but didn’t that mean there was all the more reason to mark the occasion?

She was moving on from everything that had led them to this day. And sleeping with her husband would prove that.

Pushing herself up off the bed, Helena padded across to the chest of drawers and opened the third drawer again, holding the negligee up against her body for a moment as she summoned up every bit of courage she possessed.

Time for a fresh start.

* * *

Flynn was halfway through the second brandy when the knock came. He blinked, confused, for a moment. This was his father’s study. Who would come looking for him here at long past midnight? And it felt so weird to be the one about to call for whomever it was to come in. As if he should be sitting on the other side of the big old desk, staring censoriously at someone.

A second knock. Flynn shook his head, blamed the brandy for his thoughts and said, ‘Come in.’

The door creaked open, slow and loud, and Flynn put down his glass and sat up straight as Helena’s blonde waves appeared around the edge of it.

‘Oh, good,’ she said with an unfamiliar smile. ‘You’re alone. This could have been embarrassing otherwise.’

‘Embarrassing?’ Flynn asked, confused. But then Helena stepped into the room and he understood all too well. ‘Oh.’

The pale satin of her negligee clung to curves he’d barely realised she had until he’d glimpsed her in her underwear that morning. Somehow, even if this ensemble covered more, it seemed worse. He could almost make out the dark tips of her nipples through the thin fabric, and his whole body was suddenly heavy with desire.

Helena bit her lip and Flynn knew he should set her at her ease, reassure her about...something. But he couldn’t find the words. Any words. Could barely remember the English language, in fact.

‘So, I was sitting up in the bridal suite and I got to thinking.’ Turning, she closed the door behind her and Flynn’s eyes focused automatically on her bottom, lush and curved and perfectly highlighted by the satin. Oh, he was doomed.

‘Thinking,’ he repeated dumbly, very aware that he had absolutely no idea what was happening here and, given the circumstances, probably little chance of figuring it out even if she explained it in words of no greater than two syllables. ‘Uh...what about?’

‘Us, mostly.’ Facing him again, she flashed him a smile—a bright and happy smile like he remembered from Helena of old. Helena at fourteen, following him around the house all Christmas Day, her new camera in hand. Except Helena at fourteen had worn taffeta dresses his mother picked out and had never, ever rendered him speechless like this.

‘You mean the wedding?’ Flynn asked, feeling proud of himself for managing that much in the face of satin nightwear.

‘More...the marriage.’ Moving over to the drinks cabinet he’d left open, Helena poured herself a brandy, then brought the bottle over to top up his glass. Because obviously what he needed at this point was more alcohol. The two brandies he’d already had appeared to have addled his mind completely.

Or maybe that was just her.

She sat down in his father’s abandoned chair and crossed her legs, slim ankles showing under the hem of her negligee. Flynn had always felt that ankles were fairly safe parts of the female anatomy to look at, until now. Now, all he could think about was encircling one of those neat ankles with his fingers, trailing them up under all that satin until she uncrossed those legs and parted her thighs for him...

No. Hadn’t he already decided he couldn’t risk getting any closer to his wife until they agreed terms? He needed her tied to him for good before he risked anything—pregnancy or worse. He couldn’t take the chance that he’d grow attached, start imagining their future together, if she might walk out on him at any moment. And he wasn’t about to let brandy and satin derail the only part of his plan that was still intact.

‘Did you want to talk about the marriage contract?’ he asked, straightening himself in his chair and placing his full glass out of easy reach on the table. All he was feeling right now was lust. Nothing to worry about—as long as he didn’t act on it. A one-night stand would be one thing, a temporary release—and wow, did he want that right now. But a man couldn’t have a one-night stand with his own wife. That wasn’t how this worked.

‘Not exactly.’ The smile she gave him now wasn’t a memory at all. It was all new—teasing and tempting and tantalising. The sort of smile Flynn Ashton would never have been allowed to see if he hadn’t married this woman that morning.

Suddenly, the whole fiasco seemed worthwhile, just for a glimpse of that smile. Even if he couldn’t do anything about it—yet.

Yet. That was the key. He didn’t need to close this door forever, didn’t need to shut down what this could be completely. He just needed to put it on ice until they got the details sorted. Who knew, the anticipation might even make the final outcome all the sweeter.

He just needed to exercise a little patience, that was all. And who knew patience better than him? The man who’d spent his life waiting to belong, for a place in the family, to be trusted with the business. He was so close now and he couldn’t let his libido screw that up for him.

‘I was thinking that there could be certain perks to this being married thing,’ Helena went on, and Flynn focused very hard on not imagining those perks.

‘I’m not sure—’

‘I mean, we have this great opportunity to get to know each other better, for one thing.’ Helena folded her legs up under her so she could lean over the arm of the chair, bringing her closer to him. He could smell her skin. She smelt like roses, and it was going to kill him.

‘I’ve known you since you were born,’ Flynn pointed out. ‘I think we know each other pretty well.’

‘Maybe.’ Helena’s answering smile was brief, and shaded. Almost sad. Flynn frowned; he’d known earlier, talking with her father, that he was missing something about Helena’s past. That sad smile just made him want to know what even more. ‘But we’re different people now.’

‘Than when we were children?’ Flynn laughed, but he knew it sounded forced. ‘I should hope so.’

‘We’re different people than we were this morning, Flynn,’ Helena said, her beautiful face suddenly serious. ‘You’re a husband now, and I’m a wife. I’m Mrs Flynn Ashton now, remember?’

Sobered, Flynn nodded his agreement. ‘I know. And that’s...it’s a big change for both of us. And that’s why I think we need to spend some time figuring out what that means, for our futures, not just the family or the business.’

Helena blinked and sat back a little. ‘I’m glad you feel that way.’

‘What did you expect?’ Flynn asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

‘Well, you disappeared from our wedding to hole up with my father and yours—presumably to discuss how our marriage impacts on the shareholders or something.’ Helena shrugged. ‘You can understand my belief that the human part of this marriage comes second.’

‘It’s not that,’ Flynn assured her. ‘But our parents are flying out tomorrow morning and I wanted to deal with them before they go. So that we don’t have to think about them at all while we enjoy our honeymoon.’ Instead, he could focus on getting Helena to sign the blasted marriage agreement so that when they got back to London he could put his energies into taking over as CEO of Morrison-Ashton, rather than firefighting whatever actions his father decided to take to solve the problem.

‘Our honeymoon...’ Helena’s tongue darted out to lick her lips and Flynn’s mind flew from business back to their first kiss. The way she’d melted against him, how his hands had clenched at her hips. How all he’d wanted in the world was to draw her closer and closer to him...

Not helping.

‘I had some ideas about our honeymoon,’ Helena went on. ‘And getting to know each other better during it.’ She leant in again and Flynn forced himself to pull back, to keep a distance between them, even if it was somehow actually physically painful.

‘I had some thoughts too,’ he said. ‘I think the first thing we need to do is get the paperwork sorted.’

Helena blinked at him then shifted back, away. ‘Paperwork.’

‘I think it’s important that we both know where we stand in this marriage.’ He kept his gaze fixed on hers as he spoke. He wasn’t hiding away from her, or pretending he didn’t know what she was offering. But he needed to be plain about the way things were going to be.

No sex until they had the papers signed. Even if it felt as if it might kill him.

‘You mean your father wants to make sure I’ve signed away my rights to anything worthwhile before I get my feminine claws into you.’ Helena got to her feet, shaking her head. ‘You know, he really doesn’t have to worry. I don’t want your money or your business. I don’t even want this stupid ring, but I can’t get it off my fat finger.’ She waved her left hand in front of his face and Flynn reached out to grab it.

‘You agreed to this marriage.’ He ran his finger over the band, soothing the red skin there, and after a moment she stopped trying to pull it away again. Progress. ‘You even pushed this ring into place. Nobody forced you into anything, and the only thing you signed before we said our vows was a meaningless invitation.’

‘I know that.’ She sounded irritable now. Flynn never imagined that could be a step up from seductive but, under the circumstances, he was happy to go with it. ‘And I know we need the paperwork so that we can get out of this whole mess neatly when the time comes—’

‘That’s not why.’ They were married now. It was time to disabuse her of any notion that this marriage was a temporary thing for him. ‘We need it so that you can be my wife, completely, without any of this confusion or people talking about us. We need it to make us official. Legitimate.’

Helena’s eyes narrowed and she pulled her hand from his, but he could still feel the phantom memory of the cool metal of her ring against his fingertips.

‘You mean to make you legitimate,’ she said, her glare accusing. ‘You need the paperwork to prove you’re really part of the family. You think it’ll make it easier for you as CEO when your dad steps down, now Zeke’s gone.’

‘That’s part of it,’ Flynn allowed. ‘But not all.’

Helena stood, shifting so her weight was on one leg and her hip cocked out for her hand to rest on it. It emphasised the curve of her waist in a way Flynn really shouldn’t be thinking about right now, and he tried to focus on the unhappy curl of her lips rather than anything below them.

‘Really?’ she asked, sounding unconvinced. ‘Then tell me this. If you’d married Thea today, would you be down here drinking brandy alone? Or would you be in bed with her right now?’