more than a superstition, it was a rule. Standard Operating Procedure for weddings. Flynn was not seeing this dress a single moment before she walked down the aisle of the tiny Tuscan church at the bottom of the hill from the villa. Not one second.
‘Which is why he sent me instead.’
Thea froze, her blood suddenly solid in her veins. She knew that voice. It might have been eight years since she’d heard it, but she hadn’t forgotten. Any of it.
The owner of that voice really shouldn’t be seeing her in nothing but her wedding lingerie. Especially since she was marrying his brother in two days.
Yanking the dress back up over her ivory corset, Thea held it tight against her chest and stared at him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ But there he was. Large as life and twice as... Hell, she couldn’t even lie in her brain and finish that with ugly. He looked...grown up. Not twenty-one and angry at everything any more. More relaxed, more in control.
And every inch as gorgeous as he’d always been. Curse him.
Helena laughed. ‘Eight years and that’s all you have to say to him?’ Skipping across the room, blonde hair bouncing, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss against his cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Zeke.’
‘Little Helena, all grown up.’ Zeke returned the hug, but his gaze never left Thea’s. ‘It’s good to see you too. And rather more of your sister than I’d bargained on.’
There was a mocking edge in his voice. As if she’d planned for him to walk in on her in her underwear. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the country! Flynn had told her he wouldn’t come and she’d been flooded with relief—even if she could never explain why to her husband-to-be. But now here Zeke was, staring at her, and Thea had never felt so exposed.
She clutched the dress tighter—a barrier between them. ‘Well, I was expecting your brother.’
‘Your fiancé,’ Zeke said. ‘Of course. Sorry. Seems he thought I should get started with my best man duties a few days early.’
Thea blinked. ‘You’re Flynn’s best man?’
‘Who else would he choose?’ He said it as if he hadn’t been gone for eight years. As if he’d never taunted Flynn about not being a real Ashton, only an adopted one, a fall-back plan. As if he hadn’t sworn that he was never coming back.
‘Anyone in the world.’ Quite literally. Flynn could have appointed the Russian Prime Minister as his best man and Thea would have been less surprised.
‘He chose his brother,’ Helena said, giving Thea her usual are you crazy? look. She’d perfected it at fifteen and had been employing it with alarming regularity ever since. ‘What’s so weird about that?’
Helena hadn’t been there. She’d been—what? Sixteen? Too young or too self-absorbed to get involved in the situation, or to realise what was going on. Thea had wanted to keep it from her—from everybody—even then. Of course with hindsight even at sixteen Helena had probably had a better idea about men than Thea had at eighteen. Or now, at twenty-six. But Helena had been dealing with her own issues then.
‘So, you’re here for the wedding?’ Thea said.
Zeke raised his eyebrows. ‘What else could I possibly be here for?’
She knew what he wanted her to say, or at least to think. That he’d come back for her. To tell her she’d made the wrong decision eight years ago and she was making a worse one now. To stop her making the biggest mistake of her life.
Except Thea knew full well she’d already made that. And it had nothing to do with Zeke Ashton.
No, she had her suspicions about Zeke’s return, but she didn’t think he was there for her. If he’d come back to the family fold there had to be something much bigger at stake than a teenage rebellion of a relationship that had been dead for almost a decade.
‘I need to get changed.’
Keeping the dress clasped tight to her body, Thea stepped off the platform and slipped behind the screen to change back into her sundress from earlier. She could hear Helena and Zeke chatting lightly outside, making out his amused tone more than the words he spoke. That was one thing that hadn’t changed. The world was still a joke to him—her family most of all.
Hanging the beautiful wedding dress up carefully on its padded hanger, Thea stepped back and stared at it. Her fairytale dress, all sparkle and shine. The moment she put it on she became a different person. A wife, perhaps. That dress, whatever it had cost, was worth every penny if it made her into that person, made her fit.
This time, this dress, this wedding...it had to be the one that stuck. That bought her the place in the world she needed. Nothing else she’d tried had worked.
Shaking her head, Thea tugged the straps of her sundress up over her shoulders, thankful for a moment or two to regroup. To remind herself that this didn’t change anything. So Zeke was there, lurking around their Tuscan villa. So what? He wasn’t there for her. She was still marrying Flynn. She belonged with Flynn. She had the dress; she had the plan. She had Helena at her side to make sure she said, wore and did the right thing at the right time. This was it. This villa, this wedding. This was where she was supposed to be. Everything was in its right place—apart from Zeke Ashton.
Well, he could just stay out of her perfect picture, thank you very much. Besides, the villa was big enough she probably wouldn’t even notice he was in residence most of the time. Not a problem.
Sandals on, Thea smoothed down her hair and stepped back out. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the wedding planner to attend.’
‘Of course,’ Zeke said, with that infuriating mocking smile still in place. ‘We wouldn’t dream of delaying the blushing bride.’
Thea nodded sharply. She was not blushing.
She’d made a promise to herself eight years ago. A decision. And part of that decision meant that Zeke Ashton would never be able to make her blush again.
That part of her life was dead and buried.
Just two days until the wedding. Two more days—that was all. Two days until Thea Morrison got her happily-ever-after.
‘In fact,’ Zeke said, ‘why don’t I walk you there? We can catch up.’
Thea’s jaw clenched. ‘That would be lovely,’ she lied.
Two days and this miserable week would be over. Thea couldn’t wait.
* * *
She barely looked like Thea. With her dark hair straightened and pinned back, her slender arms and legs bronzed to the perfect shade of tan...she looked like someone else. Zeke studied her as she walked ahead of him, long strides clearly designed to get her away from his company as soon as physically possible.
Did she even remember the time when that had been the last thing she’d wanted? When she’d smile and perform her hostess duties at her father’s dinner parties and company barbecues, then sneak off to hide out somewhere private, often dark and cosy, with him...? Whoever she’d pretended to be for their parents—the good girl, the dutiful daughter—when they were alone Zeke had seen the
