The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘If you feel that strongly about it, you can change your name to Mondelli.’

‘That is out of the question.’

‘Why? Because you’re a man? I never took you for a caveman.’

‘It’s the tradition of marriage.’

‘We’re not marrying for traditional reasons. As I pointed out last night, we’re living in the twenty-first century. Plenty of couples marry without taking each other’s surnames. I’m sorry if this disappoints you but I’m not changing my name. It’s non-negotiable.’

‘Our child will take my name.’ He stared at her, the fire in his blue eyes, normally so warm and full of vitality, now turned icy cold. ‘That is non-negotiable.’

was one thing refusing to take his name for herself— refusing to let their child take his

The coldness in his eyes thawed a fraction. ‘Does this mean—finally—that you will agree to our

want to marry me?’ she asked, a tiny bubble of amusement breaking through the tension. If Christian wanted a wife he could walk all over, she was certain she’d just proved she wouldn’t be that woman. She didn’t want to be a harridan but she knew she

what’s best for our

be it. Rocco had always described him as a man of his word—if she didn’t agree, he would refuse to confirm paternity until after the birth. In the meantime, her name would be dragged through the mud again. She would have to cope with swarms of paparazzi hounding her; read the lies that would follow as speculation grew over

Rocco would too and God alone knew her brother had suffered enough at

the one to suffer the most. Imagining—knowing—what people were thinking of her, were saying about her... It would contaminate her, just like it

marrying Christian was the obvious, practical thing to do. Her head knew it. Soon enough her twisted

work on a practical level?’ she asked, stalling the moment when she would have to say aloud the words agreeing to tie her life