The Greek's Pregnant Bride

One night: that was all it had taken. She’d watched him sleep, her chest clenched so tightly she’d fought for air.

She needed air now.

She wandered to the end of the corridor and climbed the stairs that led up to the roof terrace.

Their wedding was three days away but already a huge transformation was taking place for the party they would be having there once the nuptials were done. White tables and chairs were laid out to the specifications of their wedding planner. She stared at what was to be the top table, a sharp pang lancing her as she thought of sitting there without either her grandfather or her brother by her side.

A part of her wanted to call Rocco, was desperate to hear his voice. But she would not. Christian still bore the remnants of the punch Rocco had given him, the black eye now a pale yellow, but still evident if you looked closely enough. Unless he was prepared to apologise and accept her marriage, he could stay away.

Forcing her thoughts away from her brother, she headed to the back of the terrace, the part that overlooked the huge gardens. Far in the distance sat the whitewashed chapel they were to marry in. It gleamed under the morning sun, as if it were winking at her. She readied her camera and fired off a couple of shots.

She much preferred taking photos of people but one day she wanted to be able to show her child everything about their parents’ big day. She’d been nine when she’d stumbled across her own parents’ wedding photos. Until that time she’d never believed her father had ever smiled, not once in his whole life. But, of course, it had been the pictures of her mother that had meant the most to her.

Whenever she was asked the question of who her biggest influences were as a photographer, she always said Annie Leibovitz and Mario Testino, but in truth it was her parents’ wedding photographer. He had brought them to life in a manner that had touched her deeply and made her see them as people in love.

She wondered if Christian had photos of his parents’ wedding day and if he ever looked at them.

badly she wanted to know everything about him, to understand everything that made him tick, everything that had shaped him. The pieces were coming together but it was like a semi-filled photo album with

she should be able to catch him before he left the hotel for his first

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE knocked on his door, her camera still slung round her

door before it

with nothing but a towel

I’ve caught you at a bad time,’ she said, having to fight to get her vocal cords to

in.’ He stood

him, moistening

was he naked beneath

suddenly filled

so early, agapi mou?’ he asked, a smile playing on his lips, as if he

Do you want to get dressed

‘I’m good.’