Because I Wanted You

AURELIA MARLOWE

On the morning of my wedding, Ivy threatened to end my marriage before it had even begun.

“If he says Bubbles and Aura can’t live with you, you’re coming straight back here.”

I smiled as Seraphina adjusted something near my shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how marriage works.”

“It is now.”

“Ivy,” Seraphina sighed.

“What? The cats were there first.”

A soft meow sounded from somewhere near the foot of my bed.

“See?” Ivy said. “Aura agrees.”

“That was Bubbles.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“Because Aura’s meow is higher.”

Silence followed before Ivy muttered, “Show-off.”

I laughed as Seraphina continued working on my hair.

My bedroom had been chaotic since breakfast, with garment bags draped over chairs, boxes stacked near the wardrobe and members of the household staff coming and going as the last of my belongings were prepared for the move to Ronan’s townhouse. Most of my clothes had already gone ahead, along with boxes of books, my toiletries and the frankly ridiculous collection of candles Seraphina had spent years adding to every birthday and Christmas.

Everything belonging to Bubbles and Aura had gone too, although the cats themselves were staying with me until after the ceremony. I still hadn’t asked Ronan whether he liked them, but considering I had no intention of leaving either behind, he was going to have to cope.

Seraphina worked one final pin into my hair before sitting back. “There. Perfect.”

I smiled and ran my fingertips over the silk covering my thighs.

She had chosen the dress after rejecting almost everything Father’s stylist suggested and described it to me in enough detail that I could picture the shape of it clearly—soft ivory silk fitted through my waist, delicate lace over my arms and a skirt that fell cleanly to the floor without enough fabric to make walking difficult.

“How do I look?”

Neither of them answered at once, and my smile faded. “That bad?”

A sniff came from my left.

“Oh God. Ivy, are you crying?”

“Shut up.”

“You are.”

“I have something in my eye.”

Seraphina took my hand. “You look beautiful, Aurelia.”

Emotion caught in my throat. “Thank you.”

Ivy took my other hand. “You do. I still think this entire thing is fucking mental, but you look gorgeous.”

“Very reassuring.”

“I’m serious.” Her thumb rubbed once over my knuckles. “You’re about to marry a man you’ve only met once.”

“It is a little mad.”

Her fingers closed more firmly around mine. “Promise me something. If you’re unhappy, you leave. I don’t care about Marlowe Group, your father or however many billions Ronan bloody Blackwell has.”

“I promise.”

Seraphina touched my shoulder in silent agreement.

They were both more worried than I was. Nerves had been fluttering through my stomach since I woke, but beneath them was a feeling I couldn’t quite call excitement.

For the first time in my life, I was leaving the home Father had built around me and stepping into something he could no longer completely arrange in advance. I had no idea what marriage to Ronan would look like, whether we would eventually become friends or simply learn how to tolerate each other, but the thought of having a life that belonged partly to me was difficult not to want.

A knock sounded at the bedroom door before Father’s familiar voice followed.

“Aurelia?”

My smile softened. “Come in.”

The door opened, and his silence lasted long enough to make me smile wider before I heard him breathe out.

“My beautiful girl.”

“Oh no. Please don’t cry.”

Father crossed the room and took my hands.

He kissed my forehead. “Can you blame me? You look beautiful.”

“So they keep telling me.”

“They’re correct.”

For a moment, the company, the agreement and the man waiting to become my husband faded from my thoughts as I stood there with Father.

“There is still time to change your mind,” he murmured.

I turned my face slightly towards him. “You need this.”

“Not enough to sacrifice you.”

There was no hesitation in his answer, and I believed him. Whatever else anyone might think of Victor Marlowe, I had never doubted how fiercely he loved me.

“I’m all right, Father.”

His thumb brushed briefly over my cheek before he offered me his arm. “Ready, love?”

“Not really.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

I linked my arm through his. “Then we may as well go anyway.”

---

“Bloody hell.”

I turned towards Ivy’s voice. “What?”

Ivy leaned closer. “Your husband. He’s enormous.”

My face grew warm. “That is a very strange thing to say to a bride.”

“I mean tall. Honestly, Aurelia.”

“He is very tall,” Seraphina agreed.

“How tall?”

“Six-five, perhaps.”

“What does he look like?”

Ivy took far too much pleasure in answering. “Black suit, dark hair, and there’s ink showing at his hands.”

“Tattoos?”

“Looks like it.”

“He’s very handsome,” Seraphina added.

Ivy lowered her voice. “Though he also looks as if he could kill someone with one hand.”

“Ivy, please,” I murmured, trying not to laugh.

“What? He does.”

Father guided me forward before she could add anything worse.

The ceremony was small, with only family, close friends and a handful of business associates invited. There weren’t hundreds of guests watching me cross the room or photographers crowding around us, which made the whole thing far easier to bear.

My cane traced the short aisle ahead while Father matched his pace to mine. Roses and fresh greenery scented the room beneath layers of perfume and polished wood, and the low conversation gradually faded as we entered.

Near the front, measured footsteps moved towards us, and I recognised Ronan’s unhurried rhythm before he came to meet us.

Father placed my hand into his, and my breath caught at the first touch of his palm against mine.

His hand was warm and large enough to almost engulf my own, with rough calluses along his skin that I had not expected from a man like him.

“There’s a step ahead,” he said.

“Thank you.”

I found it with my cane while Ronan waited beside me.

Father kissed my cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His hand lingered briefly against my arm before he stepped away.

The registrar began, and the ceremony moved quickly. I repeated the vows when prompted, grateful that my voice sounded steadier than I felt, and when Ronan gave his own, the deep calm of it beside me made the weight of what we were doing settle over me.

When the ring was placed into his hand, Ronan found mine and guided the cool band onto my finger, his thumb brushing my skin once before he released me.

I slipped his ring into place next, and moments later the registrar pronounced us husband and wife to a room full of applause.

Ronan leaned closer, bringing the clean scent of soap, warm skin and something faintly spicy with him.

“Mrs Blackwell.”

The way he said it sent a shiver along my neck.

I smiled. “Mr Blackwell.”

---

Ivy hugged me tightly.

“Ring me tomorrow.”

“I promise.”

Seraphina hugged me next. “And let us know when you’re settled.”

“I will.”

Father came last, and I held him a little longer than I had the others.

Twenty-seven years in Marlowe House had taught me every turn, doorway and uneven floorboard until I could move through most of it without thinking. I knew the creak outside my bedroom, the distance between the staircase and drawing room and exactly where the afternoon sun warmed the sitting-room carpet.

Now I was leaving all of it for a house I had never entered and a husband I barely knew.

I rested my cheek against Father’s chest for another moment. “I’ll ring you.”

“Every day.”

“Yes, Father.”

He kissed the top of my head before letting me go, and a short while later I was sitting beside Ronan in the back of the car with London moving beyond the windows.

He said nothing throughout the journey. Neither did I, though the silence became increasingly difficult to ignore. I could hear the occasional vibration of his phone, the shift of fabric whenever he moved and the distant sounds of traffic beyond the glass, but my husband seemed perfectly comfortable travelling beside me without attempting a single conversation.

I wasn’t sure whether that made him rude, awkward or simply uninterested in pretending this marriage was anything more than the agreement we had signed.

The car eventually slowed and came to a stop in Mayfair. My door opened shortly afterwards, and Ronan was waiting when I stepped out before leading me towards the house.

The moment we entered, unfamiliar space opened around me. My cane found smooth stone beneath my feet while the air carried the scents of polished wood and something faintly smoky.

I was listening to the way sound carried through the entrance hall when a meow came from somewhere ahead.

“Bubbles?”

Quick paws crossed the floor before something furry wound around my ankles, and I crouched with a laugh as Bubbles shoved his head insistently into my palm.

“The other one is upstairs,” Ronan said behind me.

I turned towards him. “You let them come?”

“They’re yours.”

“And you don’t mind?”

Ronan said nothing, and after a moment I gave up waiting for an answer.

The household staff introduced themselves while I tried to match each name to a voice, then Ronan took me through the ground floor. It did not take long to notice that the house had been prepared for me. The walkways were clear, voice controls had been installed throughout the rooms and nothing had been left where my cane might catch against it.

I stopped near the staircase. “Did you arrange all of this?”

“You’re going to live here.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

After a pause, he answered. “Yes.”

A flicker of appreciation moved through me. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.”

I turned towards his voice. “Don’t what?”

“Make it more than practicality.”

My fingers tightened around the handle of my cane. “I was thanking you, Mr Blackwell. I wasn’t proposing a love affair.”

He left me waiting a moment before replying, “That makes two of us.”

His answer bothered me more than it should have, but with nothing else coming from him, the question that had been sitting in the back of my mind since Father first told me about the agreement returned.

“There is something I want to ask you.”

“Go on.”

“Why me?”

I faced him more fully. “You could have asked Father for shares, property or greater control of the company. Instead, you asked to marry me. I don’t understand why.”

His footsteps crossed the small distance between us and stopped directly in front of me, close enough that the heat of his body reached me despite the space he still kept between us. I lifted my chin towards him, and when he spoke, his voice came from just above my forehead.

“Because I wanted you.”

A shiver slipped down my spine. There was nothing romantic about the way he said it. He didn’t soften the words or offer anything that might help me understand them. He spoke as though wanting me was reason enough to marry me, and the fact that I had no idea what that meant made his nearness suddenly harder to ignore.

“What does that mean?”

Ronan stepped away without answering, putting distance between us as though the moment had meant nothing to him.

“Your room is upstairs, Mrs Blackwell.”

I turned towards his footsteps. “My room? Where are you sleeping?”

“Across the hall.”

He continued walking before I could ask anything else, leaving me beside the staircase with more questions than I had arrived with.

In less than a day, Ronan had made me his wife, brought me into his home and made it clear that whatever he wanted from this marriage had nothing to do with affection. Yet somehow, I was the one thing he had specifically asked for.

Worse, every conversation with him left me with the unsettling feeling that I had disappointed him long before we ever met.

If my husband refused to tell me why he had chosen me, I would find the answer myself.