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What would Future Stella think of this choice, though?
Her mind kept falling back on her conversation with Alexandra, when she had said she and Rafael were a team, and Atlas saying that marriage had started out as a tactic for each to get what they wanted.
It gave her the courage to make the leap and offer a jerky nod of agreement.
“I’ll have a draft of the prenup for you shortly.” He moved to the door, then paused. “If you want your family at the ceremony, I can arrange it, but I can’t tolerate your father being there.”
“I don’t want him there, either.” Other brides might want their father to give them away, but Pappa had tried to do that once already. She wouldn’t let it happen again. “Will your family be there?”
“No,” he said decisively. “I’ll tell them when we get to London. Can you trust your family to keep it under wraps for a day or two?”
She thought of the twins, who were eight, and Pappa asking questions about why they’d been away.
“It’s probably best if it’s just you and me.” She was used to keeping secrets from all of them. It wasn’t the best dynamic with her family, but it had always felt safer. The less they knew of what she did, the less they had to confess to Pappa and be berated for it.
“I’ll release the hounds,” he said with a smirk, and left.
She lowered onto the bed again, trying to assimilate what she’d just done, but she wasn’t given much time to react. Within a few minutes people began asking for her time, drawing her into meetings on everything from the correct spelling of her middle name to her mobile number, blood type and shoe size.
When the draft for their prenuptial agreement came through, she nearly fainted at the amounts Atlas was putting at her disposal. She tried to protest and Atlas said it was in line with his agreement with Iris. He told her they would marry in Denmark, since it had no residency requirement and was closer than Gibraltar. They would leave first thing in the morning.
Stella ran the agreement by a lawyer friend in Zermatt. Her friend charged a premium for dropping everything to read it within the hour and suggested an addendum to cover fertility treatments should that arise, but otherwise didn’t spot any red flags.
With that, Stella ran out of reasons to turn back, but she was still trying to wrap her head around having a future with Atlas. She would be his wife and, eventually, the mother of his children. That would bind her to him for life the same way Grettina was bound to Pappa. It was daunting, but after tossing and turning all night, agonizing over whether she was making the right decision, she woke to a text from Beate.
Pappa had turned up wanting breakfast. Somehow, he’d caught wind of the photos.
Beate didn’t tell her what he was saying, but Stella could imagine. He already thought Stella was a show-off for “wasting good money” on a hotel. He never missed a chance to criticize her. From the time she’d begun showing early signs of womanhood, he’d blamed her for it. He’d wanted her to shoulder the role of an adult woman where their household was concerned, but had resented that she had grown into one.
As she thought back to all his hypocrisies, something fierce rose in her, something that wanted to show him he’d been wrong when he’d tried to choose a husband for her. If she was going to buckle to the institution of marriage, it would be on her terms. It would be a marriage that allowed her to get the upper hand with her father once and for all.
“You’re still here,” Atlas said when they met for breakfast. He looped his arm around her and set a brief, minty-fresh kiss on her lips.
“You had doubts?” She touched her mouth, which was buzzing from that light contact.
“You have a history as a flight risk.” He was teasing her, running his hand down the tail of her braid in the lightest of playful tugs.
It was a bright day of broken clouds when they lifted off, affording her a good view as they flew into Geneva. There, they boarded his private jet and reviewed the final prenuptial agreement. By the time they landed in Copenhagen, her e-signature was being requested.
Nerves accosted her then. The reality of what she was doing loomed larger as they were driven to a beautiful hotel in the town center and shown into a luxurious suite with a sun-drenched parlor, a balcony with a view of the harbor and a claw-foot tub in the bedroom.
A stylist was waiting with the dress she’d picked out.
She grew teary at that point, wishing she had asked Beate to be here. She suddenly felt very alone. This was how she’d felt on arrival in Zermatt. It was a new world to her, one where she didn’t know anyone. Where she didn’t know how she would make her way.
Was she throwing away her independence on a gamble that wouldn’t pay off?
Atlas came in and the woman left.
“Wow.” He halted to take in her satin A-line dress in winter white. It was tea-length with an off-shoulder neckline, simple and elegant. At least, that’s what she had thought, but she brushed self-consciously at the fall of the skirt.
“It’s not too simple? Or too sexy?” She had long ago learned there was no hiding her curves, so she might as well make the most of them.
“You are exactly the right amount of sexy. You look beautiful.” His gaze touched the baby’s breath the stylist had woven into the braided crown she’d arranged atop Stella’s head. “I meant to ask you to keep your hair down, but I look forward to watching you take that apart later.”
When they consummated their marriage. The air in her lungs evaporated.
“You look very nice, too,” she said shyly. He was in pin-striped trousers and a dark gray morning coat. “Would you mind helping me with this? I forgot to ask her to help me put it on.” She showed him the thin chain and offered her wrist. Her fingers were twitching with nerves, making it impossible to close the tiny catch. “It’s my ‘something old.’ Beate gave it to me years ago. She won it at a fair and saved it for my birthday. It was in my laptop bag from when I had to have the catch fixed.”