His Ring Is Not Enough. Maisey Yates
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barely contained by the bodice of the strapless gown. Not her first choice, but it had been an emergency, and that meant she’d had to take the smaller size, and she’d had to take the one that showed a bit too much of her curves. Which were abundant. And she wasn’t big on putting them on display.
So, yay, of course now she’d be doing it in front of an audience of a thousand. Plus photographers. As a replacement bride for the lovely Rachel, who the media showed such favor. Who men, all through their lives, had shown such favor.
It reminded her of the time she’d gone to an event in a dress Rachel had worn earlier in the year. So there Leah was, having the sort of fashion misstep sixteen-year-olds often did, but in front of the world. Her less-svelte figure was too much on display thanks to the dress being too small, and the color washed her out. It had been put in a fashion magazine under a Who Wore it Better? heading. And Leah had been savaged in both the article and online.
Borrowing clothes from her sister’s closet was a lot more fraught for her than it was for other teenagers.
She remembered so clearly sitting down and crying in her father’s office when she’d seen it, and Ajax coming in. He’d been visiting, taking time out from his own corporate empire that was making a serious statement in the business landscape. But he’d always made time for them. He’d always felt like a part of the Holt family.
“I’m so humiliated, Ajax!” she’d wailed. “How will I ever live this down?”
Ajax had looked at her, dark eyes impassive. “If you don’t want to be compared to your sister, stop putting yourself in the position. You’re different. You will never be her, so stop trying.” He’d knelt in front of her then. “And you must never let them see you cry. Never give them anything they can use against you. An unbreakable target is not a satisfying one.”
He was right, then and now. She wasn’t Rachel. Not even close. And so she’d made an effort to look as different as possible from her sister. And she’d never let them see her cry.
Leah had become the snarky one, the one with the acerbic wit, the businesswoman who didn’t care what the press said and didn’t waste time trying to court them.
She’d become her own person. Her own very guarded person.
Unless she was with Ajax. With him, she’d felt free to show herself. She’d poured her heart out to him. Hours spent tailing him at the estate replaced with spending time in his office after school.
And she’d left him treats. Ajax wasn’t demonstrative, but she always saw the candy wrappers in the trash bin the next morning. And it always earned her a smile. A small one, but from Ajax, it had been gold.
And with those small smiles a girlish crush had turned into love. She’d been so close to telling him, too. One night when there were few people left in the Holt building and they’d been alone in his office. But she’d lost her nerve.
And by the end of the week, he’d announced that he intended to marry Rachel.
Never let them see you cry.
His words had played over and over in her mind that day, as her dreams, her fantasies, had been crushed like a rose in an iron fist. She hadn’t gone to his office after that. She hadn’t left any candy on his desk again.
She hadn’t shown a crack in her facade since.
But no matter how she played it, she still didn’t like what the press wrote about her, and she knew this would be no exception.
Round-ish Candy Tycoon to Wed Man Way Out of Her League in Desperate Last-Minute Substitution at Wedding!
There was a headline she could live without.
But it was likely unavoidable. All right, it wouldn’t say round-ish, but still. There would be an implication. Especially since she owned candy stores. They loved that about her. That she’d grown up to sell candy. It made for such delightful headlines, filled with the suggestion that she overindulged in her own product.
And she would be standing there, next to Ajax, who was physical perfection. She was sure she would look like a little marshmallow in comparison. A little marshmallow with cleavage.
“Leah.” Her father walked into the room, and Leah whirled around toward the sound of his voice. He looked as shell-shocked as she felt. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Leah nodded slowly. “Yes.”
She felt dizzy, light-headed.
You know what this is. You signed the agreement. There will be an end date on this marriage. He’ll probably never even touch you.
But fantasy and reality were having a head-on collision and it was hard to remember how she was supposed to feel. Who she was supposed to be. It was hard to keep her mask in place while the world shook beneath her feet.
“I want to do this,” she said, her voice hushed.
The expression on her father’s face changed, as if he was seeing deep inside her. “I see.” He extended his arm. “Then let’s go. I confess, I was not ready for you to be married yet.”
She wanted to shout that he didn’t see. Because there was nothing to see. Instead, she cleared her throat. “I’m twenty-three.”
“But still. With Rachel I knew it was coming. I was much more ready for her to marry. And I knew...I knew Ajax’s intentions for a long time. The moment his feelings toward Rachel changed, he told me.”
“Six years,” Leah said, knowing the exact moment, the exact hour. Because the memory was still so raw, no matter that it shouldn’t be.
“She wanted to live more first. She was only twenty-two when he fell in love with her. And you don’t want to live?”
“I can still live with a husband,” she said. “I’ll be married, not dead.” And probably not married for that long. Or in truth.
“That’s true. But you are still my baby.”
She breathed in deep, fighting against the tight ache in her throat. “Dad, I haven’t lived at home in years.”
“I know.”
“And Ajax is like a son to you.”
Her father stopped walking and looked at her. “And if he hurts you, I will personally see him undone.”
She blinked. “He won’t.” She would make sure he wouldn’t. Her armor was solid; it wouldn’t break now. In spite of her moment of flailing insecurity back in the dressing room, she would make sure her armor held.
Anyway, Ajax didn’t have a foothold in her life anymore. Not in her emotions at least. She might still find him physically attractive, but she wasn’t hopeless over him anymore.
They stopped talking then, because they were in the foyer, and just beyond that was the courtyard, where everything had been prepared for the wedding. Rachel’s wedding. None of it was to her taste. Leah was more whimsical, her sister a sophisticate. Everything was white at Rachel’s wedding.
Too damn bad she hadn’t shown up.
Leah swallowed hard as the doors opened and the sunlight poured in, painting her in white, too. The only color was the sea beyond the stone-covered courtyard, a blue jewel against the sun-washed sky.
She started descending the steps, and the guests stood, a gasp and ripple of whispers rustling through the crowd, audible even over the string quartet that was playing. She knew what they were saying. They were wondering why. Why her?
Why not the beautiful sister? Surely, everyone would know Rachel had left. Because there was no way Ajax would have preferred her. And everyone would know that.
She’d always imagined she would marry here. In Rhodes. But it hadn’t looked like this in her mind.
She