The Greek's Pregnant Bride

She’d spent pretty much her entire life trying to keep herself together in public, the hardest before tonight being two months ago when they’d buried her grandfather. The paparazzi had been out in force. She’d worn dark glasses until they’d entered the church, refusing to give them the money shot they so desired. Even when Sandro, her alcoholic father, had turned up drunk and made that dreadful scene, she’d kept her composure. Christian and Zayed had been the ones who’d calmly approached him and dragged him away.

Christian staggered over to the bed and sat heavily on it, clutching his head.

‘Please. Say something,’ she beseeched. The back of her retinas burned and she blinked furiously. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, she would not cry. She’d done enough of that.

He fixed his blue eyes on her. ‘How long have you known?’

‘A while, I guess, but I only took the test a couple of days ago.’ She laughed, a hollow sound even to her own ears. ‘I took three of them, hoping they were wrong.’ At the third positive reading, she’d climbed onto her bed and sobbed.

‘Have you seen a doctor?’

‘Not yet.’ She bit into her lip. It had taken her almost a fortnight to entertain the possibility that her late period might actually mean something, another fortnight before she’d unburied her head from the sand and crossed the threshold into the pharmacy.

went hand in hand with relationships and she certainly didn’t

‘But you’re certain?’

her condition had sunk into

her, right in the heart of her womanhood, a tiny life

prepared her for the host of emotions pregnancy would bring. It might be early days in pregnancy terms but already she loved it, this little alien developing within her;

seen his features—all angles and straight lines forming what had been

‘I’m so sorry.’

drew together. ‘Sorry

up.’ She forced herself to look him straight

hand through his cropped dirty-blond hair. ‘And you didn’t think to tell

the

you not know? It’s basic biology.’ He swore under his