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.’

Christian’s

she snapped,

his hair, not knowing or caring if she was comforting him or

should be getting used

you still here?’ she snarled

swore loudly. ‘You’re my sister and he’s a

you’re a hypocrite!’ she interrupted. ‘The majority of the women you’ve slept with have been someone’s sister. He’s your best friend and you’re just as big

I’m not oblivious to those

what you’ve just done, I will never call you my brother again. I’ll walk myself up the aisle. Now, get an

* * *

his ears Christian heard

that Alessandra

it was Alessandra—that it was her warm lap supporting his head, her gentle fingers lacing through his hair, her normally calm,

the

as the sound reverberated

gone better