His Very Convenient Bride

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

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.

This was the scandal of the year, and not one of Isabella’s friends would rest until they knew what had really happened behind the scenes today.

Isabella. Helena sneaked a sideways look at the front pew as she promised to be true, to love and honour and all the rest of that stuff. Flynn and Zeke’s mother sat with a fixed smile on her face, hands clasped around a handkerchief in her lap, the wide brim of her hat shading her eyes. Helena would bet that if she could see any tears in them, they wouldn’t be tears of joy.

Explaining this mess to Flynn’s parents was not going to be fun. Maybe she’d leave that to him. Refine the art of wifely delegating early.

Her vows done, the priest picked up the baton again. ‘What God has joined, man must not divide,’ he intoned.

Gosh, that sounded formal. Binding.

Final.

Well, what did he know? He’d happily married the wrong couple without batting an eyelid. There was a pretty strong chance that none of this was even legal. It would be fine.

‘Do you have the rings?’ the priest asked, and Helena’s eyes widened. Did they? What had even happened to them?

But Flynn reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a ring box, flipping open the lid to reveal two shiny platinum rings. Helena knew those rings, had helped choose those rings.

She also knew there was a good chance that the ring Flynn was about to try and put on her finger wouldn’t fit.

As the priest blessed the rings, Helena tried to convey this information to her new husband using only her eyes and eyebrows. Anything else would signal to their audience that there was a problem.

Flynn’s forehead furrowed in confusion and Helena resigned herself to losing the outer layer of skin on her ring finger.

‘Helena, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.’ Flynn took her left hand solemnly and Helena braced herself as the cold metal touched the tip of her finger. ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’

Flynn eased the ring down to her knuckle, where it promptly got stuck. His gaze flashed to hers and she gave him what she hoped was an imperceptible shake of the head.

He understood, thank goodness. His fingers moved down to the base of her finger, but the ring stayed jammed where it was. With a sunny smile, Helena withdrew her hand and hid it in the folds of her dress. She’d ease it further on later, if she could. Otherwise she’d sneak up to her room and find some other ring to serve for the time being.

Flynn’s ring slipped on with no problems, of course, since he was actually supposed to be there getting married today. And suddenly the priest was pronouncing them husband and wife and it was all over. Helena blinked out at the applauding crowd and felt grateful that the line ‘You may now kiss the bride’ seemed to appear more often in movies than at actual weddings.

She was married now. And she did realise that the chances were she’d have to kiss her husband, sooner or later.

It was just that she was voting for later. When her emotions and thoughts weren’t spinning like a tornado. When she could sit quietly for a moment and figure all this out, and think about what would happen next.

When she’d had time to prepare herself.

With her hand tucked into the crook of Flynn’s elbow, hiding the ill-fitting wedding ring, Helena walked back up the aisle she’d walked down as a single woman. As Helena Morrison.

Now she was Helena Ashton.

She was pretty sure she would never get used to that.

Helena fought to keep her expression bright and happy, tilting her head to brush against Flynn’s shoulder as they walked.

‘Nearly there,’ he murmured as they approached the back of the church. ‘Almost over.’

Except it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

The Tuscan sunlight stung her eyes and her skin as they emerged from the cool shade of the chapel. They only had a few moments before everyone else followed, so Helena ripped her hand from Flynn’s arm and began to twist Thea’s wedding ring over her knuckle. If only she had some hand cream in her bag. Or even her bag.

Brides travelled light, it seemed.

With a pop, the ring slid past the knuckle and into place, and Helena exhaled with relief. One problem down, who knew how many more to go.

As the guests emerged, Helena plastered her best social smile back on to her face. Which, as the first person out was Ezekiel Ashton, was a bit of a waste.

‘What, exactly—?’ the old man started, only to be cut off by his wife.

‘Not here,’ Isabella said, her voice quiet but sharp. Helena had no doubt that there would be long discussions about what had occurred that day, but Isabella wouldn’t have them happening in front of the guests. ‘We have the photos to get through.’

‘Forget the photos,’ Ezekiel said. ‘What do we need photos for?’

‘The papers, apart from anything else,’ Isabella answered promptly. ‘This is still the wedding of the season, regardless of who actually got married.’ Her voice dropped low for the last half of the sentence and Helena winced.

Photos. Helena’s smile slipped at the thought until Isabella glared at her and she forced it back into place. Where apparently it would stay for the next hour or more, while the semi-famous photographer Isabella had flown over from the States took endless shots of her and Flynn looking happy and slightly shell-shocked.

Oh, well. Wasn’t that how all brides and grooms looked on their wedding day?

* * *

An hour of endless fake smiles later, Helena’s face ached. Still, photos over and done with, she kissed the cheek of the next guest in the reception line, wishing she’d made everyone wear name tags for the occasion. She might know the guest list backwards after helping to put it together, but putting faces to those memorised names was another matter entirely.

Thea would have known them, though. Thea would have wined and dined them as clients in the past, would already have asked them questions about their kids or their pets. No wonder they were all looking at Helena with such confusion and curiosity. She wasn’t what they’d expected, or wanted.

She was kind of used to that.

Beside her, Flynn seemed totally at ease, chatting happily with every person who came past. He, at least, seemed pleased with how the day had turned out.

‘Such a beautiful day,’ a woman in a green hat said, fake smile making it clear that she might well be talking about the weather rather than the wedding.

‘Wasn’t it?’ Isabella said, ignoring the false undertone. ‘We’re all just so delighted to be one happy family at last.’

‘I’m sure,’ Mrs Green Hat replied. ‘Although you do seem to be missing a couple of members right now!’

Isabella’s tinkling laugh gave away nothing. ‘Oh, well, we have everyone who really matters right here, don’t we?’

‘I suppose so. Except you do seem to be missing a best man, at least.’ Good grief, the woman was relentless! ‘I heard Zeke was home for the wedding, and I was so looking forward to seeing him. Such a bright young man.’

Isabella’s expression froze at that, her grin nudging towards a rictus. Leaning between them, Helena plastered on what she hoped was an apologetic smile. ‘I’m so sorry to hurry you along, but I’m afraid the line is already out of the door and people are more than ready for the wedding breakfast, I’m sure. Perhaps you and Isabella can catch up a little later?’

Mrs Green Hat looked a little sour at the interruption, as if too much lemon had been squeezed in her gin and tonic, but she nodded politely anyway. No one argued with the bride on her wedding day, did they?

‘Of course. Isabella, I look forward to talking with you and both your sons later.’ She stalked off towards the dining room, not even bothering to acknowledge Thomas at the end of the line, which Helena thought was just plain rude, thank you very much. Although, quite honestly, Thomas probably deserved it today. But Mrs Green Hat didn’t know that.

Now, if she’d avoided Ezekiel, who continued to glower at every single person he spoke to, she could understand it.

It took forever, but eventually the last of the guests paraded past them and into the dining room. Ezekiel immediately disappeared in the direction of his study without so much as a by-your-leave, but Helena wasn’t complaining.

In fact, she let out a sigh of relief and slipped her feet out of her heels for a moment, letting the cool stone floor soothe her toes.

‘I don’t understand why Thea couldn’t at least leave her shoes and veil if she had to run out on us at the last moment.’ Isabella peered critically at the bright pink shoes lying on the floor. Thomas must have filled her in on the events of the day, Helena supposed. ‘It would be common courtesy, really.’

Rather than not actually running out on her wedding in the first place, Helena supposed. Isabella always did obsess about the details. It wasn’t the first time she’d missed the big picture because of it.

‘I like the pink ones,’ she said, partly just to annoy her new mother-in-law.

‘So do I, actually,’ Flynn said, standing beside her, and she flashed him a huge smile. Maybe this was why people got married—to have someone on their side when they had to deal with their parents. She’d heard of worse reasons.

Thomas, with a weary sigh, lowered himself into an armchair at the edge of the hallway. ‘I suppose we should have known. It’s not like she didn’t have form. I wonder where they are now.’ He stared out of the open front door as he spoke and Helena couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

‘Zeke and Thea?’ Isabella asked. ‘God only knows. Probably off somewhere trying to find new ways to destroy our family.’

‘They were in love,’ Helena said, without even realising she planned to say it. ‘They wanted to be together. And we thought...well, we thought this was the best option. Flynn and I.’ She reached for him blindly, relieved when Flynn grabbed her hand and held it tight.

‘We did,’ he agreed. ‘Still do, actually.’

Isabella studied her so intently that Helena stared at her toes to avoid her gaze. Her pedicure was the exact same colour as her shoes, she realised with pleasure. She almost wanted to point it out to her mother-in-law, to prove that she was good at details, too.

‘Maybe you were right,’ Isabella said finally. ‘It might all be for the best. At least you’re less likely to make a dramatic scene than your sister. If it hadn’t been for Thea’s place in the company...well, I might have suggested to Ezekiel that he pick you for Flynn instead. I said as much to Thea, actually. So I suppose she knew she had a stand-in, if she needed it.’

‘Mother,’ Flynn said, the hint of warning in his voice enough to make Isabella stop talking.

But it couldn’t stop the icy fingers that crept up the back of Helena’s neck at her words. She tugged her hand free from Flynn’s. It wasn’t just Isabella making it perfectly clear that Helena was second choice, a last resort. She already knew that, thanks. But had Thea really known what would happen? Helena thought not. But it seemed, however cross Ezekiel might be, Isabella wasn’t too disappointed with this turn of events. Why would she be? She got a docile, eager to please wife for her son. Flynn had probably been overjoyed when she’d suggested it.

Except, of course, he knew that it was potentially only temporary. Isabella didn’t.

But it was only a matter of time before she found out.

* * *

Flynn’s hand felt suddenly cold without Helena’s in it. Curse his mother. Wasn’t it enough that he had to know that he was an unfortunate backup plan without her driving it home that his new bride was in exactly the same position?

It was time to get the focus back where it belonged—on their marriage, rather than the one that hadn’t happened.

‘Is that all the guests in?’ he asked.

‘Finally, yes,’ Helena said with a small hint of a smile, as if she knew what he was trying to do.

‘God only knows how much wine they’ll have got through already.’ Isabella tucked her hand through Thomas’s arm. ‘We’ll go in and take our seats, then the steward can come and announce you. Is your father coming back?’ The last part was added almost as an afterthought, Flynn realised. While Ezekiel might believe this whole day was all about him and his company, as far as Isabella was concerned, this was a social occasion presided over by herself and Thomas. The man she’d never quite left her husband for, but who was more of a husband to her anyway.