Sophie Pembroke - A Groom Worth Waiting For

And she’d forgotten all about him. Point made. With a sharp jab to the heart.

But of course if they didn’t talk about him... ‘So you never told Flynn about us, either?’

She didn’t look up from her dessert as she answered. ‘Why would I? The past is very firmly in the past. And I had no reason to think you would ever come back at all.’

‘And now?’

Raising her head, she met his gaze head-on. ‘And now there’s simply nothing to say.’

‘Zeke.’

The voice sounded a little creakier, but no less familiar. Tearing his gaze away from Thea’s face, Zeke turned to see his father standing, waiting for him.

‘I’d like a word with you in my office, if you would. After eight years...we have a lot to discuss.’

They had one thing to discuss, as far as Zeke was concerned. But he went anyway. How else would he have the pleasure of turning the old man down?

* * *

Ezekiel had chosen a large room at the front of the villa for his office—one Zeke imagined was more usually used for drinks and canapés than for business. The oversized desk in the centre had to have been brought in from elsewhere in the house, because it looked utterly out of place.

Zeke considered the obvious visitor’s chair, placed across from it, and settled himself into a leather armchair by the empty fireplace instead. He wasn’t a naughty child any more, and that meant he didn’t have to stare at his father over a forbidding desk, waiting for judgement to be handed down, ever again.

‘Sit,’ Ezekiel said, long after Zeke had already done so. ‘Whisky or brandy?’

‘I’d rather get straight down to business,’ Zeke said.

‘As you wish.’ Ezekiel moved towards the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whisky anyway. Zeke resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

Finally, his father came and settled himself into the armchair opposite, placing his glass on the table between them. ‘So. You’re selling your business.’

‘So the rumour mill tells me,’ Zeke replied, leaning back in his chair and resting his ankle on his opposite knee.

‘I heard more than rumour,’ Ezekiel said. ‘I heard you were in negotiations with Glasshouse.’

Zeke’s shoulders stiffened. Nobody knew that, except Deb and him at the office, the CEO at Glasshouse and his key team. Which meant one or other of them had a leak. Just what he didn’t need.

‘It’s true, then.’ Ezekiel shook his head. ‘Our biggest competitors, Zeke. Why didn’t you just come to me directly? Or is this just another way of trying to get my attention?’

Zeke will never stop trying to best his brother. The words, eight years old, still echoed through Zeke’s head, however hard he tried to move past them. But he didn’t have time for the memory now.

‘I haven’t needed your attention for the last eight years, Father. I don’t need it now.’

‘Really?’ Ezekiel reached for his whisky glass. ‘Are you sure? Because you could have gone anywhere, done anything. Yet you stayed in the country and set up a company that directly competed with the family business.’

‘I stuck to what I knew,’ Zeke countered. Because, okay, annoying his father might have been part of his motivation. But only part.

Ezekiel gave him a long, steady look, and when Zeke didn’t flinch said, ‘Hmm...’

Zeke waited. Time to make the offer, old man.

‘I’m sure that you understand that to have my son working with Glasshouse is...unacceptable. But we can fix this. Come work with us. We’ll pay whatever Glasshouse is paying and you can run your little company under the Morrison-Ashton umbrella. In fact, you could lead our whole digital division.’

Somewhere in there, under the ‘let me fix your mistakes’ vibe, was an actual job offer. A good one. Head of Digital... There was a lot Zeke could do there to bring Morrison-Ashton into the twenty-first century. It would give him enough clout in the company in order not to feel as if Flynn was his boss. And he would be working with Thea every day...

‘No, thanks.’ Zeke stood up. He didn’t need this any more. He’d grown up now. He didn’t need his father’s approval, or a place at the table, or even to be better than Flynn. He was his own man at last. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m done with This Minute. Once I sell to Glasshouse I’m on to something new. Something exciting.’

Something completely unconnected to his family. Or Thea’s.

‘Really?’

Ezekiel looked up at him and Zeke recognised the disappointment in his eyes. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen that peculiar mix of being let down and proved right at the same time before.

‘And if I appeal to your sense of family loyalty?’

Zeke barked a laugh. ‘Why would you? You never showed me any. You gave Flynn all the chances, the job, the trust and the confidence. You wanted me to find my own road.’ He crossed to the door, yanking it open. ‘Well, Dad, I found it. And it doesn’t lead to Morrison-Ashton.’

* * *

‘Well,’ Flynn said, dropping to sit beside her on the cushioned swing seat. ‘That was a day.’

‘Yes. Yes, it was.’ Thea took the mug he offered her and breathed in the heavy smell of the coffee. ‘Is this—?’

‘Decaf,’ Flynn assured her. ‘You think I don’t know what my wife-to-be likes?’

‘Less “likes”,’ Thea said, taking a cautious sip. Everyone knew that on a normal day she’d be on her third double espresso well before lunch. ‘More that I don’t need anything else keeping me awake at night right now.’

‘Hmm...’ Flynn settled against the back of the seat and, careful of her coffee cup, wrapped an arm around Thea’s shoulders, pulling her against him. ‘Want to tell me what’s keeping you awake?’

Thea tucked her legs up underneath her, letting Flynn rock the swing seat forward and back, the motion helping to relax the tension in her body.

They didn’t share a room yet; it hadn’t really seemed necessary, given the agreement between them. So he didn’t have to know exactly how many hours she spent staring at the ceiling every night, just waiting for this wedding to be over, for the papers to be signed and for her future to be set and certain. But on the other hand she was marrying the man. He’d be her companion through life from here on in, and she wanted that companionship badly. Which meant telling him at least part of the truth.

‘I guess I’m just nervous about the wedding,’ she admitted.

‘About marrying me?’ Flynn asked. ‘Or getting through the day itself?’

‘Mostly the latter.’ Thea rested her head against his comfortable shoulder and sighed. ‘I just want it to be done. For everyone else to leave and for us to enjoy our honeymoon here in peace. You know?’

‘I really, really do.’

Thea smiled at the heartfelt tone in his voice. This was why a marriage between them would work far better than any of the other relationships she’d fallen into, been passionate about, then had end horribly. They were a fit—a pair. If they actually loved each other it would be a classically perfect match.

But then, love—passion, emotion, pain—would be what drove them apart, too. No, far better this friendship and understanding. It made for a far more peaceful life.

Or it would. Once they got through the wedding.

‘Feeling the strain, huh?’ Thea patted Flynn’s thigh sympathetically. ‘Be grateful. At least my sister didn’t walk in on you in your wedding lingerie this morning.’

‘I don’t have any wedding lingerie,’ Flynn pointed out. ‘I have the same boring black style I wear every day. Hang on. Did Zeke...?’

‘Yep. He said you sent him to fetch me to meet with the wedding planner. So you wouldn’t see me in my dress before the big day.’