‘Well, have a good journey home, all of you,’ she said. ‘And we’ll see you in London in a fortnight, I guess.’
Isabella nodded and leant in to kiss the air beside Helena’s cheeks. ‘We’ll have the house all ready for you both. Then you and I can sit down and discuss your social calendar.’
Social calendar? ‘Great.’
Ezekiel nodded his own farewell then walked out of the front door with his wife, leaving Helena alone with Thomas.
‘You’ve got two weeks here, Helena,’ he said, studying her face with serious eyes. Helena’s breath caught in her throat. She and Thea had always known that their father was easy-going and affable—but only to a point. When he turned serious, they knew it really mattered. ‘Use them wisely. You’ve made your choice and you need to stick with it now. So make this work.’
He didn’t really need to add the or else, Helena supposed. She knew well enough what happened when she disappointed her father.
‘And if you speak to your sister,’ he added, pausing by the door, ‘tell her we need to discuss her future. Sooner rather than later.’
Helena nodded stiffly. She didn’t envy her sister that conversation.
But then, Thea probably wouldn’t envy Helena two weeks in Tuscany trying to ‘make things work’ with a husband who didn’t want her, either.
Well, if all Flynn wanted was a paperwork wife, Helena could give him that. Watching as he waved to their parents’ departing car from the front step, Helena made a decision. If this was all business anyway, she’d let Flynn get on with his—while she focused on her own life. She’d cleared her calendar for the month around the wedding, knowing things would be manic enough without adding any new projects for her burgeoning interior design business into the mix. But here she was with time on her hands, her laptop and freakishly fast Internet access, given their location. It was the perfect chance to get on with the new website she’d been planning for months.
Time for her to get on with her own future for a while.
* * *
Their married life had slipped into a routine surprisingly quickly, Flynn realised a few days later. Every morning he woke, went for a run, returned to the villa to shower and dress, then sat down for breakfast. Helena usually joined him then and they made polite, if sparse, conversation over the English papers he’d arranged to have delivered.
Then Flynn would settle into his father’s study to work while Helena did...whatever it was she did all day. Sometimes they’d see each other for lunch, sometimes not. Dinner they usually took together in the dining room, and Helena always turned in for bed first.
There had been no repeat of her wedding night offer, something for which Flynn was profoundly grateful as Henry had been held up in London and wasn’t able to get out to Tuscany until the end of the week. As much as he wanted the paperwork sorted before he allowed himself to really invest in the marriage, he knew his own limitations. No man had willpower strong enough to resist Helena in that negligee night upon night, whatever the stakes.
Still, he thought as he took his morning run on the fourth day, he didn’t want the distance between them to grow so much as to be insurmountable, either. Once Henry arrived he needed Helena on side, ready to work with him, ready to make this marriage real.
With an extra burst of energy he took the last stretch up the drive to the villa at a sprint, the thought of a calendar entry he’d barely registered the day before spurring him on.
Back in his room, he checked his phone as he caught his breath again. He smiled. Right there, scheduled neatly in his personal calendar by his PA, who’d been put in charge of all the honeymoon plans, was exactly the right way to make things up to Helena. A romantic tour of a Tuscan vineyard, complete with wine-tasting, lunch and perhaps a drive through the countryside. Perfect for the honeymooning couple.
It would mean taking the whole day off to do it properly. If he’d been with Thea, as planned, they’d have spent half a day there then both headed home to catch up with emails, he imagined. But Helena, he suspected, required a different hand. After four days of distance, this needed to be all or nothing.
And Flynn was going all in.
* * *
Helena ignored the first three knocks on her door. She’d stayed up late after dinner working again on the new website and had planned to catch up on her sleep with a well-earned lie-in—especially as it meant she stood a better chance of avoiding her husband at breakfast. The endless awkward pauses and stilted conversations over the dining tables were becoming more than she could bear. Would it be like this in London? She hoped not.
But the fourth knock she couldn’t ignore, especially as the door opened seconds after it.
‘Helena...you’re not up?’ Flynn closed the door behind him and stared at her, a frown line deepening between his eyebrows.
‘It’s only nine-thirty.’ Helena shuffled into a sitting position, glad that she’d slept in her comfortable shorts and T-shirt instead of the ridiculous negligee. ‘We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon. I’m maintaining the happy couple illusion.’
‘The car’s picking us up in half an hour. You might want to get up.’ Flynn crossed to the bathroom while Helena just blinked at him in confusion. ‘I’ll get the shower running. Give it a chance to warm up for you.’
‘I can run my own shower,’ Helena protested, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Apparently she was getting up. ‘And, anyway, what car?’
She heard the sound of water running and Flynn re-emerged. ‘The car to take us on our vineyard trip. Didn’t it get put on your calendar? I’ve got it all arranged for us.’
Helena felt that same chill that had overtaken her on her wedding night begin to snake its way through her veins, despite the steam from the shower seeping into the room and the warm summer morning outside.
‘You mean you had it all arranged for you and Thea.’ She was not jealous of her sister, Helena reminded herself. It wasn’t as if she was in love with Flynn either. She just liked to know where she stood, that was all.
‘I arranged it for my wife and me. That’s you, in case you’d forgotten.’
‘Not likely,’ Helena muttered.
Flynn headed back towards the door. ‘Car will be here at ten. I’ll meet you in the foyer.’
And then Helena was alone again, with only the sound of falling water to keep her company.
A vineyard tour. Presumably that included wine-tasting, so things could be worse. Maybe there’d even be lunch. Taking a deep breath, Helena decided to focus on the positive. Paying attention to the good things in life, she’d found, was sometimes the only way to avoid drowning in the despair of all the bad things.
So—good things only.
The sun was shining, the new website was going well enough that she’d earned a break, and she would have wine and food in the sunshine today. Maybe she could even talk the maid into coffee and something resembling breakfast before they left, if she was quick.
Lots of good things to distract from the one awful thing. It was going to be a good day.
Forcing a smile, she hopped in the shower, washing away her bad mood with the soap suds. By the time she emerged again, the maid had left coffee and a pastry on the chest of drawers and Helena sipped and nibbled happily as she flicked through her wardrobe to find something suitable for a newly married woman on her honeymoon, taking a tour with her husband.
She really hadn’t packed for this. Mostly, she’d just been working in shorts and a T-shirt so far. But today’s trip seemed important to Flynn, so she guessed it should be important to her, too. Maybe they’d even manage to learn how to speak to each other again. That kind of milestone required more than a pair of shorts, Helena decided.
In the end, she settled on a sunny yellow cotton dress, patterned with daisies around the hem, and slipped her feet into white
sandals. She twisted her wet hair into a knot at the back of her head, knowing it would dry quickly enough in the sun and give her pretty waves when she let it down that evening. Even with ten minutes to add sun protection and a little light make-up, she was still ready well before ten.
Grabbing her straw hat and bag, she headed down the stairs to find Flynn already in the entrance hall.
‘You were quick,’ Flynn said with a smile. ‘I thought I’d be waiting a while for you.’
‘Shows how little you know me.’ Helena arched her eyebrows. ‘I’m very efficient—when I want to be.’
‘Well, thank you for your efficiency.’ He glanced away for a moment before meeting her gaze again. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had much time to spend together so far this week. With Zeke’s surprise coup, getting Dad to make me CEO, things are frantic at work, making sure everything’s in place.’
‘I understand,’ Helena said as coolly as she could. ‘I had work to do too, anyway.’
Flynn blinked and Helena realised he probably hadn’t even known she had a job, beyond helping out with his wedding. Irritation rose in her chest. Rosebud Interiors might not be much compared to the might of Morrison-Ashton, but it was still her company.
‘That’s good, then,’ he said. ‘Maybe you can tell me more about it over lunch?’
Some of the irritation faded away when she realised he did sound honestly interested. ‘Yeah, okay.’
‘Great. Well, then, let’s get going.’ Flynn held out an arm for her. After a moment she took it and was rewarded by a warm private smile. ‘I’m looking forward to a day out with my wife.’
Helena beamed back, an unexpected warmth blossoming inside her despite herself at the words ‘my wife’. Maybe this day wouldn’t be all bad.
CHAPTER SIX
AS THE CAR flew through the Tuscan countryside, Flynn settled back into his seat and ran through his plan for the day again in his head.
Main objective: to make Helena comfortable with this marriage in time for Henry’s arrival. Or was the main objective to get Helena to sit down and sensibly discuss the marriage contract? One led to the other, admittedly, but a firm objective was the first step of any plan. So, which was it?
Maybe he needed a broader plan. Make the objective a signed contract before they headed back to London. In which case, today’s steps broke down into—
‘Oh, wow!’ Helena wound down her window and stuck her head half outside the car. ‘Look at this place, Flynn!’
Resisting the urge to pull her back inside, where a passing car was less likely to lop her head off, Flynn tried to look around her at what had made her so excited. Whatever it was, it fitted nicely with his plan, at least. Coaxing Helena into a better mood was definitely step one.
Outside, field after field of grapevines sunned themselves as they ripened and, up ahead, Flynn could see the farmhouse from the photo his PA had attached to the diary entry. This was the right place then, at least.
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Helena ducked back into the car, her smile far more authentic this time. ‘This is where we’re doing the tasting?’ she asked as the driver took another twist in the rough driveway at considerable speed.
‘This is the place.’ Flynn made a mental note about a raise for his PA as he pulled out his phone and checked the notes on the diary entry again. ‘A tour of the vineyards, followed by a tasting with antipasti, then a drive to a nearby taverna for lunch, where I believe they serve the wine from the estate.’
‘Sounds perfect.’ She flashed him a quick grin that showed her neat white teeth. ‘Very romantic.’
‘I think that was the plan.’ He tucked his phone back in his pocket as the car reached the top of the drive and slowed to a stop. ‘At least, that’s what I asked my PA to organise.’
‘You asked her to organise romance?’ Helena asked, eyebrows raised. ‘Isn’t that a little counter-intuitive?’
‘I don’t see why.’ The driver opened Helena’s door, so Flynn opened his own and stepped out into the late morning sun. ‘Most things can be improved by a little planning.’
‘Still...romance needs a certain sort of spontaneity. Don’t you think?’
She really wasn’t anything like her sister, Flynn mused. Although, given Thea’s own last-minute change of plan for love, perhaps they had more in common than he’d imagined.
‘I think that people like to think that the good things in life are natural, that they just happen,’ he said. ‘But in my experience a lack of planning tends to lead to unfortunate outcomes rather than good ones.’
Helena stared at him over the bonnet of the car. ‘Boy, have you been having the wrong experiences.’
Maybe she was right. But not about the planning. And if they wanted to get along equably enough as man and wife... Mentally, Flynn added: Convince Helena of the merits of forward planning to his schedule for the day.
He had always liked a challenge.
* * *
‘Mr and Mrs Ashton! Welcome. I’m Gia.’ The dark-haired woman stepped forward on to the driveway and shook Helena’s hand enthusiastically before moving on to Flynn.
‘Call me Flynn,’ he said, taking her hand in both of his. Her husband looked far more relaxed in the company of this stranger than he did in hers, Helena thought.
‘And I’m Helena,’ she added with a little wave. ‘So...is this your home?’
Gia laughed, a low, mellow sound. ‘It is! It belonged to my great-grandparents, then my grandparents, then my parents. And when they retired three years ago I took it over with my husband.’
‘And began producing some of the most renowned Chianti in the region,’ Flynn said. Gia’s gaze moved to him, her eyebrows raised. Helena would have done the same, were it not Flynn the Planner talking. ‘I read the website in the car,’ he added with a shrug.
‘It’s good to have a truly interested visitor,’ Gia said. ‘Now, why don’t you come inside with me and have a coffee before we start our tour?’
‘That sounds like a fantastic idea,’ Helena agreed, even as she saw Flynn check his watch. Good grief, the man was going to have to learn to find flex in his schedule to allow for coffee or they were never going to make it through the fortnight without killing each other.
The coffee was dark and rich, the farmhouse kitchen shady and cool—both a welcome respite after the air-conditioned swerving of the car. Helena felt her stomach settle and her shoulders relax as she sat and peppered Gia with questions about the house and the vineyard.
‘I was working in America—California, in fact—until five years ago,’ Gia said, pushing a plate of biscotti towards Helena.
‘Making wine?’ Helena asked, helping herself.
Gia shook her head. ‘Real estate, believe it or not. But I toured plenty of the vineyards out there with clients. But then one year I came home for Christmas and, over dinner, my parents told me it was time for them to retire. They didn’t want to interrupt my career, so they were planning to sell the vineyard.’ She gave a small shrug and reached for a biscotti. ‘I couldn’t let them do it.’
‘So you took it on yourself instead,’ Flynn said. ‘Very brave.’
Gia gave him a lopsided smile. ‘I don’t think I realised the risk I was taking until later. I came here with no plan, no real training, no idea what I was doing. But I learned fast and I studied hard. I took courses, asked questions and paid attention to everything. My parents stayed on to help for the first year or so, then I met my husband and he came on board, and between us all we found a way to make it work.’
Helena raised her eyebrows at Flynn across the table, sipping at her coffee while she waited for him to notice. Even he had to acknowledge everything Gia had built here without a plan.
But Flynn merely raised a single eyebrow in return then turned his attention back to Gia. ‘I imagine you needed
to work up a business plan and so forth once you took it over?’
‘Of course. But that initial decision—that first jump. I never for a moment planned that, until that Christmas Day when I suddenly couldn’t imagine doing anything else.’
Like her, on the morning of their wedding, Helena realised. She’d never really, truly imagined stepping into Thea’s place if she decided not to go through with the marriage. But once she’d left, and she’d seen Flynn standing there...she couldn’t imagine not marrying him in her place. Even though it was utterly, utterly crazy and unplanned.
Of course, Flynn would probably argue that marrying Helena was the closest thing to following his plan that he could manage on short notice.
Not exactly romantic.
‘Come on,’ Gia said, jumping to her feet. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, let’s take a look around the vineyard.’
Helena gulped down the last mouthful of her coffee, grabbed another biscotti for the road and followed their guide out of the back door. She had a feeling that Gia was a woman who would appreciate the spontaneous aspect of romance. And she had an idea Gia might be able to help her with—if she could get her alone for a moment.
* * *
Flynn watched Helena as she skipped between the vines, peppering Gia with questions at every step. Gia, for her part, answered every one thoughtfully, following Helena at a more careful pace. Eventually Flynn tuned out of what they were saying altogether and just studied his wife.
She was golden in the sunlight, shining with—no, radiating—life and energy. Now they had escaped the villa, she seemed to have come to life. She’d been lovely in her borrowed wedding dress, gorgeous in that slippery silky thing on their wedding night, and pretty in the simple tailored shorts and tees she’d been wearing around the villa—but today, in a simple sundress and sandals, she was beautiful. She was alive.
Absently, Flynn pulled his phone from his pocket to check if Henry had sent through his flight details yet. The sooner they got this contract sorted, the sooner he could start making this marriage everything he’d planned for it to be. But there were no messages from his solicitor, or his PA, and as Flynn frowned at the screen Helena turned around to scowl at him.
His Very Convenient Bride Page 8