She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he was hiding something from her, though.

Per favore, not another woman.

Do. Not. Trust.

How she could she trust him? She didn’t know how.

She did know that she wanted to. She wanted to believe he would treat her with respect, that maybe one day...

A rap on her door jolted her out of the trance she’d worked herself into.

It was probably a member of staff, come to escort her to the chapel. The sweet girl who brought her breakfast every morning had been shocked when Alessandra had told her she would be walking to the chapel alone.

Always alone.

How she wished she’d swallowed her pride and called her brother and begged him to come. Deep inside, a part of her had believed he would come, that he wouldn’t leave her to do this alone. That he’d forgive her.

This was his flesh and blood growing in her belly, the very reason she and Christian were prepared to take this ultimate step.

Alone or not, she should have left already.

Her stomach clenched.

at the French

Everyone was at the chapel. The staff was busy organising all the celebrations. It could be ages before

Christian’s face when he realised

him. Alessandra knew all about humiliation and would never

their innocent baby say when, at some point in the future, he or she learned what their mother had

the door reminded her that someone stood on the other side waiting for

over, she opened it, pulling a smile onto her face that dropped as soon

a morning suit, stood

moment she didn’t say

burst

* * *

at his side, his two best men—or, as they were called here in their shared role, his koumbaros—eyes fixed on the

Where was she?

half an hour? If Stefan hadn’t taken his phone from him after Christian had texted her to

the congregation caused him momentarily to lose track

an enormous beam on his face. Beside him sat his wife, Tanya, and

have invited

His stomach curled.

done that for

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