The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘I never thought I’d see us at a wedding for one of our own,’ Zayed mused, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I still can’t believe Rocco’s got married. I mean...married?’

‘Who would have thought he’d fall in love?’ Stefan said with the same incredulous tone.

Christian grunted and caught the barman’s attention for another round.

Call him cynical, but he couldn’t help wonder how long it would be before the love they felt for each other turned into something ugly. Because that was what marriage did—turned two people full of hope and love into bitter caricatures of themselves.

Much safer for everyone’s sake to avoid emotional entanglement. Christian conducted his own affairs by enjoying the moment and then moving on with the minimum of fuss. He had known before he was in double figures that marriage was not for him.

Zayed swivelled on his stool to cast his eyes over the ballroom. ‘There are some hot women here.’

Stefan grinned. ‘I noticed that lingerie model giving you the eye.’

‘I thought she was an actress?’

‘No, that was the other one.’

off all these women,’ Zayed

to stare at him. ‘Don’t even think about

his hands. ‘I’m just making an

‘Well, don’t.’

wouldn’t go there. I’d never do that to Rocco— Where are you going?’ he added when

‘To get some air.’

not feeling well?’ Stefan was looking at

busy time. I’m probably jet-lagged. Get another round in—I’ll be back in a few

going outside, Christian went to the restroom and splashed cold

thickness

he needed to get a grip on

was his guilt and his problem. No

found her, she turned her head in his direction,

his guilt-ridden inner turmoil. After that one close call of almost punching one of his oldest and closest friends for an innocuous remark, he joined in with the celebration they were there for, drinking,

him. Their eyes would meet for a fraction of a second before jerking away. She certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, though, dancing with anyone who cared to ask, at one