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.’

to find him working. For surely he must be working? He

you planning on wearing that to Marrakech?’ she asked. They were due

his face, quickly gone, but there long enough for

take our honeymoon another time,’ he

‘Another one?’

threw her a smile that was clearly intended to bestow patience when all

job is all about finance. When

What I don’t get is why it has to be you—why can’t someone else step in and

no one

eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘What about our honeymoon and the way it’s supposed to

shipping company last month in an advisory capacity. One of my staff has been going through the accounts and has discovered a large hole in the company’s finances. Unless we plug that hole in the next two days, fifty thousand people will not receive their pay cheques. That’s fifty

could she argue with that? She couldn’t, not unless she wanted to sound like the

detected was real or the workings of a tired, disappointed mind. Four days in Marrakech with nothing to

was his assertion that