RONAN BLACKWELL
The little snake was just as beautiful as the photographs, which pissed me off more than it should have.
I sat in the back of the car as Marlowe House disappeared behind us, but I could still see her standing in that drawing room with her face tipped towards my voice. Long dark blonde hair fell almost to her waist, framing pale skin, soft features and a full pink mouth I had noticed far more than I wanted to admit.
Her eyes were bright green with a thin ring of gold around each pupil, beautiful enough that I’d caught myself staring even though they never quite fixed on me. Whenever I spoke, she turned towards my voice, and something about having those eyes pointed in my direction without actually seeing me had fucked with my head more than I liked.
I loosened my tie and looked out the window, irritated that she had managed to surprise me at all. I’d spent ten years with one version of Aurelia Marlowe in my head, and the woman I met today didn’t fit it. I expected someone colder, maybe harder, but she had been soft-spoken and painfully polite until I pushed her. Then the little snake showed some teeth.
If I’m marrying you either way, I fail to see what difference another fourteen days will make.
The answer had gotten under my skin more than it should have.
My phone vibrated beside me, but I left it where it was. Aurelia hadn’t recognized me, and that was all I needed to know for now.
When it vibrated again, Graham’s name lit the screen, so I answered before he tried a third time.
“What?”
“Nice to hear your voice too.”
“What do you want?”
“To make sure you signed the agreement instead of beating Victor Marlowe to death with it.”
“Signed.”
“And you really moved the wedding to next week?”
“Yes.”
Graham sighed. “I’ll deal with the registrar and send the amended documents tonight. Your staff need to know when she’s moving in.”
“They know.”
“And the work at the house?”
“Being handled.”
“You arranged everything already?”
“She’s going to be living there, Graham. Having my blind wife break her neck because somebody left a chair in the wrong place would be fucking inconvenient.”
He went quiet for a second, and I ended the call before he found another question to ask.
Victor had spent the entire meeting hovering around Aurelia like she might crack if someone breathed too hard in her direction, yet she hadn’t needed any of it. She knew her own house, handled the documents without making a production out of it and answered me without waiting for her father to speak for her.
Watching Victor play the protective father had been harder to stomach than I expected, but I kept my mouth shut. He didn’t need a reason to start looking too closely at me yet.
By the time we reached Mayfair, four more messages were waiting on my phone. I ignored them as the driver stopped outside the townhouse and came around to open my door.
“Sir.”
I paused before stepping out.
He hesitated. “Should I say congratulations?”
I stared at him until he cleared his throat and faced forward again.
“Forget I asked.”
I left him in the car and headed into the house, where the usual quiet met me along with dark wood, stone and glass.
Aurelia moving in meant a few things had to change. I’d already ordered the staff to keep the walkways clear, stop shifting furniture without warning and make sure the voice controls worked throughout the house. I needed her here, and having her injure herself because someone left shit in the wrong place would create problems I had no interest in dealing with.
I poured myself a drink and crossed to the windows, watching London beyond the glass while I thought about what would happen a week from now. Aurelia Marlowe would become my wife and move into this house, putting her exactly where I wanted her.
She believed she was marrying Ronan Blackwell, and I intended to let her keep believing that until the ring was on her finger and it was far too late to change her mind.