The Greek's Pregnant Bride

Christian didn’t answer, keeping his gaze fixed evenly on Rocco.

‘You said neither of you meant it to happen, so I will ask you one more time: was she just a one-night stand to you?’

‘Yes.’

If Christian intended to elaborate on his one-syllable answer, his words went unsaid when Rocco’s arm shot out like a bullet.

‘Rocco, no!’ But her scream came too late to prevent her brother’s fist connecting with Christian’s nose, a resounding crack bouncing off the walls on impact.

Christian dropped to the floor with a thump.

Immediately Alessandra fell to her knees beside him. Vivid red blood seeped from his nose.

‘What did you do that for?’ she said, switching to Italian, half-shouting, half-screaming, not looking at Rocco, too busy checking Christian’s vital signs. The pulse in his neck pumped strongly, the only blessing she could cling to. She looked up at her brother, who stood frozen. ‘Don’t just stand there—call for an ambulance.’

Rocco’s broad chest heaved, his face a couple of shades paler than it had been when she’d walked into his office. ‘He doesn’t need an ambulance. He’s already coming round.’

was right. Christian’s

ice,’ she snapped, somehow holding

and placed it on her lap. Being as gentle as she could, she ran her fingers over his hair, not knowing

should be getting used

snarled

He swore loudly. ‘You’re my sister and

have been someone’s sister. He’s your best friend and you’re just as big

more, I’m not—and I’m not oblivious to those

just done, I will never call you my brother again. I’ll walk myself

* * *

Christian heard the sound of muffled

Alessandra speaking

her gentle fingers lacing through his hair, her normally calm, husky voice pitched at a much higher octave than he had ever associated it

the room, the door slamming with

as the sound reverberated through his pounding

had gone better