The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘Thank you,’ she said, striving for breeziness.

‘Are you ready?’

‘Let me get my bag and we can go.’ The expansive room seemed to have shrunk in the space of seconds and she was glad to escape, if only for a moment.

In the sanctuary of the bedroom, she sat on the corner of the bed and took some deep breaths. Keep it together, Alessandra.

Keep it together?

At Rocco and Olivia’s wedding she’d been too worried about informing Christian of his impending fatherhood to read too much into the raging emotions sleeping with him had provoked. She’d assumed that, once she’d shared the news, her equilibrium would be restored. She hadn’t thought for a minute it would become more unstable around him, an instability that seemed to increase with every moment spent with him.

She would keep it together. She would. She was a pro at it.

Getting to her feet, she grabbed the gold clutch bag off the dresser and strolled back into the living area. Christian was leaning against the dining table, doing something on his phone. As soon as he saw her, he pressed the button to turn the screen off and quickly put it in the inside pocket of his blazer.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

mustn’t question. It was none of her business. None of

was other private students who deserved his discretion. Naïve idiot that she was, she’d believed him, had never imagined for

it. She had no emotional claim

couldn’t remember where I’d left my bag.’ What was a white lie in the scheme of things? She couldn’t tell him his appearance had left her feeling so off-kilter she’d needed a moment to catch

are we eating?’ she asked, following him out of

a French restaurant

‘French?’

the best restaurant in

her brows. ‘Can’t we

restaurant in Greece. The waiting list is eighteen months

pulled a face. ‘I like fine dining as much as the next person but, truly, you can’t relax somewhere like that. Please, just for tonight, can’t we go somewhere

in his

know somewhere!