The Greek's Pregnant Bride

Instead of waiting for him, she dived into the adjoining bathroom and deliberately kept the door ajar, an open invitation for him to join her.

After a good few minutes of soaping herself under the powerful walk-in shower and washing her hair, boredom kicked in.

She dried herself quickly, rubbed the towel over her hair and moisturised her face.

She made to leave the bathroom, pausing at the last moment to put her robe back on, not yet confident enough to walk around stark naked in broad daylight.

The door of the bathroom he’d been using was open. Masculine scents mingled with the steam of the shower, filling the empty bedroom.

Maybe he was ordering breakfast for them.

She wandered through to the main living area of the suite and found him at the dining table—fully dressed and working on his laptop.

He looked up and flashed a quick smile. ‘Good morning.’

he must be working? He hadn’t even donned casual clothes

wearing that to Marrakech?’ she asked. They were

face, quickly gone, but there long enough

will have to take our honeymoon another time,’ he said calmly, looking back

‘Another one?’

smile that was clearly intended to bestow patience when all it did

know my job is all about finance. When financial problems hit

is why it has to be you—why can’t

no one

to convince the world we’re in love?’ Why did her heart clench to

we plug that hole in the next two days, fifty thousand people will not receive their pay cheques. That’s fifty thousand people who will struggle to pay their bills, their mortgages, feed their children. We will go to

that? She couldn’t, not unless she wanted to sound like the most selfish person in the

tired,

dispute was his assertion that he was the only person in the