‘It is.’ A faint warmth hit Helena’s cheeks. So far he wasn’t doing so badly.
‘Good. Anyway. Before that, I had a meeting with our fathers that left me in a...not great mood. But it also got me thinking.’ He looked up, his serious eyes focused on hers. ‘The moment we sleep together, we’ve changed the game. There’s no hope of an annulment when we get back. You have to be sure that it’s what you want.’
‘An annulment?’ Helena shook her head a little to try and make sense of it. ‘You were refusing to sleep with me to make sure I had an out?’
‘That was one reason.’
‘What was the other?’
‘My father suggested that, should I have any problems getting you to agree to the same terms as Thea for the marriage, I should just get you pregnant to tie you to me, then make sure you signed before the child was born.’
Helena’s heart froze in her chest. ‘What did my father say?’ she asked. Because Ezekiel probably never knew what she’d been through, and she expected that kind of callousness from him anyway. But her own father...
‘He... Helena, he laughed. He said something about you making up for the past by marrying me, and he laughed when Dad told me to get you pregnant.’ He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and Helena wanted to hold him, to soothe him. To have him soothe her. But all she could hear in her mind was her father’s laughter, dismissing the most important thing—the worst thing—that had ever happened to her as a joke.
She’d known that she and Thea were often more useful than loved. She’d understood that this marriage was a business deal, convenient and lucrative rather than something to be celebrated.
But until this moment she’d never realised quite how little her father thought of her. And suddenly her heart felt as if it had been torn apart.
‘I couldn’t bear it.’ Flynn was still talking, and Helena tried to pay him proper attention again. ‘They were just so casual about the idea—about a child’s life. And I knew I couldn’t risk that. That we had to be sure, that everything had to be agreed before anything like that could happen.’
Helena swallowed and it felt as if there was a rock stuck in her throat. He hadn’t wanted her to be trapped, hadn’t wanted any child to be unwanted, or used, like he had been. Her soul ached for the boy Flynn must have been, and for the man he’d become. Her own battered heart reached out for his. Maybe they really could give each other what they’d lacked so far, all their lives—love.
He wanted so badly to do this right, to make a perfect future for them. And so what if he planned it out moment by moment? His reasons were good. His heart was good.
And Helena wanted that heart for her own. More than she’d ever done as a fourteen-year-old child. More even than when she’d envied her sister her golden, good fiancé. More than when she’d stepped into that borrowed wedding dress, and more certainly than when she’d propositioned him in her negligee on their wedding night. More still than when he’d chosen her the perfect engagement ring.
She was in love with her own husband, and it scared her and filled her more than she’d ever known anything could.
‘I think you should ask me that question again now,’ she said, nerves making her whole body feel as if it was vibrating from the inside out. She needed to tell him the truth, needed to confess. But if she did...it could destroy the cautious happiness they were building together. Once they were home, once the paperwork was signed, maybe then she could talk about what had happened to her, what she’d done. Maybe then she could make him understand.
But first she had to make him love her.
Flynn smiled up at her, already on his knees again. ‘Helena. Will you be my wife? In every way there is?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed and felt that amazed joy flooding through her.
* * *
Flynn swept her up in his arms the moment she spoke. He owed her a proper kiss, after their first public one, and that was what he intended to give her. Lowering his mouth to hers, he tried to convey everything he felt—every hope, every dream—through a kiss.
From her eager response, he hoped he had got pretty close.
It amazed him to think that just last week he hadn’t known this woman—not really. He knew Helena, Thea’s sister, or Helena, Thomas’s daughter. But he had no idea of the wonder, the humour, the warmth and the beauty that lay beyond those labels.
‘I can’t believe I came so close to marrying the wrong woman,’ he murmured against her lips, and felt rather than saw her smile in response. ‘This is it. This is exactly how it was meant to be all along.’
‘I know,’ Helena said, and he could hear her happiness in the words. ‘I know. And we so almost didn’t...’
‘But we did. We have each other now.’ It might not be love yet, Flynn thought, but he could see the pathway there. Could see every step between here and their future.
Helena pulled back a little, still smiling, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘You haven’t even put the ring on me yet.’
‘I haven’t?’ Flynn blinked, and saw it sitting on the table beside them. Pulling it free of its velvet box, he lifted Helena’s left hand and slipped it on next to her wedding ring. ‘There.’
‘There,’ Helena echoed, staring down at her hand. ‘It really is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.’
‘For the most beautiful woman,’ Flynn said, knowing it was corny and not even caring. Somehow this moment, alone on the terrace, felt more permanent, more official than the big church ceremony and the signed register. This was the moment he’d remember as their true wedding. The moment they understood each other and committed to their future.
Helena smiled up at him, then caught her lip between her teeth, the way he already knew she always did when she was deciding whether or not to say something.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You may as well say whatever it is. After your response to my initial proposal, it’s unlikely you can come up with anything worse.’
‘True. And I do think you’ll like this one more.’ Swaying closer, she wrapped herself tighter around his body, pressing herself against him until it felt as if even air couldn’t squeeze between them. His body began to react immediately, even before Helena rose up on her tiptoes, brushing against him every slow inch of the way, and whispered in his ear, ‘So, do you want tiramisu for dessert? Or me?’
He swallowed, trying to cling on to the composure he was so famed for in the boardroom. The plan was to wait. He’d already pushed so far up against every line he’d drawn for himself. And there was more than business on the line here, he admitted to himself, more than money. He had to be sure he could risk his heart. ‘Are you sure? The contract—’
‘Paperwork’s a formality,’ she murmured against the skin of his neck, placing kisses between each word. ‘I’m yours now, whatever happens. So take me.’
The words ripped through the last of his self-control and Flynn hauled her up his body into another kiss, this one harder, more desperate, more wanting.
‘Upstairs,’ he managed, just, as her hands clutched at his back. ‘Now.’
He didn’t need to say it twice.
* * *
It was several hours later, with the sky dark outside the bedroom window, that Flynn tugged her closer against his naked body and said, ‘We never did get that tiramisu.’
Helena laughed against his skin, her hands still roaming over his chest. ‘You never got me in that negligee, either.’
‘Maybe tomorrow night,’ Flynn said, yawning.
‘Maybe,’ Helena agreed, although she knew they’d never make it that far. By tomorrow night they’d be too desperate for each other again, too consumed with want that they’d forget all about her fancy nightie. Just as they had done tonight.
It had been more than she’d dreamt it could be. The way he moved against her, with
in her...the way he touched her, with a sort of reverence she’d never imagined a man could have for her body. As if he were drinking in every detail of her, and each one intoxicated him.
She should never have worried about them being compatible, and she almost laughed when she thought that, until a couple of hours ago, she’d honestly been afraid he hadn’t wanted her.
She’d been scared, she admitted to herself, lying in the darkness in her husband’s arms. She’d not wanted to think about it, but there had been very few men since she’d fallen pregnant at sixteen, and none that made Helena feel the way that Flynn did. She’d worried whether she’d be enough for him, worried more about protection until he’d pulled a condom from his wallet, and worried most that he’d be able to tell her secrets with one glance at her body.
He hadn’t, though. And since his eyes and hands and mouth had covered every inch of her, she didn’t imagine he would now.
Her past was locked away until she chose to share it with him. He’d be hurt, she knew, that she’d kept it from him, but she liked to think he’d understand. Especially now—they were already so close, and after so little time. By the time it mattered, when they talked again about children, they’d be a proper unit. A family, even. He’d understand.
And he’d understand, she thought, if she told him she wanted to adopt. He might even welcome it. As long as she got the timing right, they would make it work, she was sure of it.
They had to. She’d committed now, and so had he. There wasn’t any room to step back any more.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Flynn asked, his voice sleepy as he kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re keeping me awake with all those thoughts.’
‘I’m just thinking how happy I am,’ Helena replied, and hoped he didn’t know her well enough yet to tell when she was lying.
He didn’t. ‘Good,’ he said, turning on to his side and pulling her back against his chest. Soon, his breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep.
But Helena lay awake almost until the sun crept over the window ledge, thinking about the things she’d done and the choices she’d made.
* * *
When Flynn awoke the next morning he knew instinctively that it wasn’t six a.m. The sun sat too high in the sky, sending beams of warmth and light that cut across the bed. They hadn’t shut the curtains the night before, he realised, and still he’d slept in well past his normal waking hour.
It had to be the exercise, he thought, stretching out aching muscles as far as he could without waking the woman sleeping in his arms.
His wife.
She’d been everything he’d dreamt she could be, and more. If he’d needed any extra proof that things had worked out for the best, he had it. As the mid-morning sun glinted off the sapphire on her finger, he knew that Helena was the one for him, for life. Whatever happened next—with his father, the company, even with Zeke and Thea—it would be him and Helena against the world. They had their own family. His hand slipped down to rest against her stomach for a moment. And one day, not yet, but once things were settled with the CEO role, that family would grow a little bigger.
He couldn’t wait.
Flynn toyed with the idea of waking Helena to remind her again just how good they were together, but then his eye caught on a piece of card tucked in the edge of the mirror on her dressing table, just under the window. Squinting, he made out the words printed on the front and smiled when he realised what it was.
His wedding invitation. His and Thea’s, defaced by Helena to turn it into theirs. And on the back, he knew, would be that impromptu contract she’d scrawled across it.
The contract. Henry was arriving today. Would be arriving—Flynn glanced at the clock next to the mirror—any moment now.
Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from Helena’s pale limbs, smiling when she reached for him without waking. Tucking the blanket around her, he pulled on yesterday’s jeans and headed for the room next door, where the shower wouldn’t disturb her. He’d get dressed, hunt out some breakfast and meet with Henry. If they were quick, he could have the whole contract ready for signatures before Helena even woke up.
By the time he made it downstairs, Henry had not only arrived but had also befriended the maid and the cook. Flynn found him settled into one of the armchairs in the large hall area, a cup of coffee and a plate of pastries at his elbow. He folded the paper he was reading as he saw Flynn descending the stairs and tucked it away in his briefcase.
‘Am I to assume that the urgency with which you required me to dance attendance on you has now passed?’ Henry asked, a mocking smile on his face.
Flynn couldn’t help but smile back. Henry had known him a long time, had worked with him almost since he’d started at Morrison-Ashton, and knew Flynn better than most. If anyone was going to be happy for him, it was probably Henry.
It was another sign of how little input he’d had on the wedding planning and guest list that Henry hadn’t been invited. Maybe they should throw some sort of spectacular first anniversary party next year and invite all the people they’d have actually liked to be there. Poor Helena hadn’t been allowed to invite anyone to her own wedding.
He should really make that up to her.
Flynn dropped into the chair opposite his friend and helped himself to one of the pastries. ‘We still need the contract,’ he said. ‘But you’re going to have to wait for my wife to wake up first. She’s not good at mornings.’ He tried to keep his expression blank as Henry studied him, but apparently failed as Henry shook his head and laughed.
‘Oh, you lucky, lucky—’ He broke off before the curse. ‘Only you could get dumped on your wedding day and still end up with a beautiful bride you’re madly in love with.’
‘I didn’t say love,’ Flynn argued, but he couldn’t help the grin that came at the thought, ‘yet.’
‘A couple of years’ time, you’re going to be running the company, making millions and have chubby toddlers chasing around after you. It’s going to be sickening.’
‘Perhaps,’ Flynn agreed. ‘Doesn’t sound too bad to me.’
‘It wouldn’t. You’re not the one who’ll have to deal with you being so insufferably smug about it.’ Henry flashed him a grin. ‘Seriously, though, I’m happy for you. Nobody deserves this more than you.’
Was that true? Flynn suspected not. But the fact his friend thought so...that meant something. Maybe, after every bad start, everything he’d had to fight to get here, maybe this was his time to be happy at last.
He hoped so.
‘Come on.’ Flynn got to his feet. No point lingering on the sentimental when there was paperwork to deal with. ‘Let’s go through to the study and get started. I’ll have the maid bring us some more coffee. I’d like to get this agreement put to bed before Helena wakes up, so she can sign it and forget it.’
‘You mean so you can take her back to bed again,’ Henry said.
‘That too.’
‘You know I have to go through all the details with her too, right? You can’t just tell her to sign here and have done with it—however desperate you are to get her naked.’
Pretty desperate, Flynn had to admit. But not enough to ignore the law. ‘I know. But I want to try and keep this one simple, if I can. Helena’s not a huge fan of paperwork.’
Maybe, once Henry had gone, he’d take her over his father’s desk in the study. Maybe that would endear her to paperwork a little bit more.
‘And she married you?’ Henry asked in mock astonishment. ‘Heaven help her.’
Flynn ignored him. It was going to be another glorious day.
CHAPTER NINE
HELENA WOKE UP ALONE, stretching out in the bed like a starfish to work out the kinks and aches that her muscles had built up over the night. She wasn’t used to sharing her space while she slept, although sh
e was happy to learn if it meant sharing the bed with Flynn.
Where was Flynn, anyway?
Checking the clock, she saw it was already late morning, which meant he’d probably sloped off to work. Maybe she’d surprise him in his study, persuade him to come back to bed for a while. They could rerun the events of their wedding night, only with the right outcome this time...
She showered quickly, fixed her hair and cleaned her teeth, then dressed in the satin negligee Flynn had so wanted to see again. Then, just in case she ran into any or all of the household staff on her way down, she slipped on a light matching robe which made the whole ensemble almost decent.
Yawning, she opened the door and headed for the stairs, wondering if maybe she should stop for coffee first. No, husband first, then coffee. She could send him out to bring some back to the room afterwards. Ooh, breakfast in bed! That was what honeymoons were for. Well, amongst other things...
When she reached the study, she didn’t bother to knock and didn’t even register the two voices inside until she’d already opened the door.
‘Oh! Sorry.’ She pulled an apologetic face at Flynn, who smiled reassuringly. The man sitting across the desk from him, a laptop between them angled so they could both see the screen, laughed. It was a nice laugh, though, Helena thought. Not cruel or mocking, just amused.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘We were actually waiting for you. I’m Henry, Flynn’s solicitor.’ He held out a hand for Helena to shake.
She frowned as she took it. ‘Solicitor? Is there something wrong?’ Then she realised, and groaned. ‘Seriously, Flynn? Paperwork, at this time in the morning?’
‘It’s practically lunchtime,’ Flynn pointed out.
‘In his defence, I think he mostly wanted to get it sorted so that you could both get back to enjoying your honeymoon,’ Henry said.
Rolling her eyes, Helena dropped into the third chair set around the desk. ‘Fine. But I’m going to need coffee.’
His Very Convenient Bride Page 12