Page 10 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

“A spending account.” His eyes narrow. “You think I don’t know how hard a parent’s job is?

My mother sat with me for hours trying to help me with homework.

That was after working two jobs and before she went off to night school.

I barely saw her for years, but the times I did, I knew how much she cared about me.

I’ve already seen how much you care for our son.

Giving you the opportunity to have the kind of time she never did, the kind of time your own mother probably didn’t have, is a gift for all of us. ”

I fall silent. Michail inserting himself into yet another part of my life is almost too much.

A week ago, I would have told him to go to hell.

But the opportunities he’s offering are enticing.

Yes, he’s presenting everything in his controlling, pushy way.

Yet his reasons reveal more of the depths I glimpsed in Santorini.

A man who rose above abandonment and betrayal to incredible success as still remembers and honors the woman who helped him achieve that.

A man who loves my child.

I run my tongue over my lower lip. “And our living arrangements?”

“You’ll have your own room. I won’t demand or force anything, Alessandra. Ever,” he adds with heavy emphasis. “If we decide to mutually enjoy each other’s company, so be it. Otherwise, we’ll have our own quarters while maintaining fidelity for the duration of our marriage.”

I’m relieved. And I hate myself for that. Why does it matter if Michail does or doesn’t sleep with someone else?

I need to take him out of the equation. Focus on the baby. Focus on now and what could be possible for us in the future.

The wind strengthens, whipping up over the balcony and tearing at the leaves of a redbud tree.

I’m on the precipice of a second monumental decision in less than a week.

One that has the potential to bring me incredible happiness even as it deepens the bond between a man who has the power to break my heart.

A decision that makes me feel as though I’m betraying my mother and everything she ever taught me about being independent, resilient.

Yet I know if she would have had the chance to have more time with me, she’d have taken it in a heartbeat.

The wind fades. The leaves overhead still. My lips part.

“Yes.”

Michail

I don’t know of a single person in my acquaintance who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to spend a year at home with all of their expenses paid while living in a luxury penthouse.

But as I’m coming to learn, Alessandra isn’t most people.

Something I took into consideration this morning when I decided to propose if the will couldn’t be broken.

I know she cares for our son, to the point of putting herself in harm’s way to keep him safe.

Her continued insistence that she wanted nothing to do with me, coupled with her lack of demands, led me to the conclusion that our time in Santorini had truly been chance.

Leaving me with a solution to my two biggest problems: the will and being a part of my son’s life.

Another torrent of wind rushes over the railing, catching her hair and pulling strands of auburn across her face.

She frowns and futilely tries to push it back.

With her hair wild and loose and that fierce frown on her face, she looks more like the woman who caught my attention in Greece than the cool, calculated professional I’d met at Kingston.

Warning pricks the back of my neck. Living with Alessandra for a year will test me in multiple ways.

But the alternative options, either letting my mother’s paintings be destroyed or marrying someone else, are not viable.

I will not let Lucifer hurt my mother any more than he already has.

And the thought of marrying another woman when Alessandra is pregnant with my child disgusts me.

I hold out my hand. She eyes it like it’s a snake about to strike.

“Scared?”

My taunt does the trick. She slides her hand into mine. My fingers tighten around hers as I bring her hand to my mouth. Her sharp inhale is primitively satisfying, as is the tensing of her fingers in my grasp.

Just one more touch. One simple touch to satisfy my craving for her. I brush my mouth over her knuckles, watch her eyes widen and her chest rise and fall.

“Deal,” I whisper against her skin.

She yanks her hand out of my grasp. A shutter drops down over her eyes as a small shudder passes through her.

“All right.” She looks out over the city. “When?”

I stare at her profile. The possibility of indulging in sex during the course of our marriage hadn’t been a primary factor when I’d first thought of proposing.

But now, after voicing it during our negotiations, it’s at the forefront of my mind.

Judging by the pitch in her voice and the blush staining her cheeks, she is, too.

The spell woven that night that has kept her in my dreams will break with time; all spells do. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves until fantasy gives way to reality.

“Next week.”

Her head jerks back around. “That soon?”

“If your doctor approves after your next appointment, yes.”

I force my focus back onto one of the two main reasons I came up with this idea: the paintings. The will stipulates they can be released to either mine or my mother’s possession upon proof of marriage. Until I have them, I won’t be able to rest.

I’m also not giving Alessandra any more time than necessary. Time to ruminate, to dwell.

To run.

A dull sensation tugs at my chest. I reached for her when I woke that morning after we’d met.

Like I had been waking up next to her for years instead of the first time.

I’d pushed aside the shock of encountering empty sheets and immediately yanked my walls into place.

Walls that had been tested time and again by the memory of her, of the passion we had shared.

Her hand moves back to her belly, cradling it in a way I’ve seen her do when she’s unsettled or perceives a threat to the baby.

Our baby.

Resolve hardens my heart.

“Do you have any preferences?”

Her lips part and she blinks, like a wild animal caught in the glare of headlights.

“Preferences?”

“Location, flowers, music.” When she blinks again, I hold up a hand. “We can discuss details later.”

“I assumed we’d have a civil ceremony. Something quick and efficient.”

“A small ceremony is fine. But I want my mother in attendance.”

“Your mother?” she repeats faintly.

“My mother never thought she would see me get married or have a grandchild.”

I can easily imagine her joy as she watches me say my vows, as long as she doesn’t know the true reason behind them.

It’s been years since her breakdown, the one that finally penetrated my wall of anger and helped me get myself under control.

But I hear the long-ago echo of her sobs in the principal’s office after being called away from work yet again to come get me after a fight.

Can still feel the panic when she hadn’t been able to stop crying and the principal had called for an ambulance.

Can still see her eyes when I visited her in the hospital, her gaze made vacant by medication and exhaustion.

“She doesn’t know about the will or the paintings. We’re going to keep it that way.”

Alessandra arches a brow at the firmness in my tone. But she doesn’t push.

“We could get married in private and just tell her after.”

My lips quirk. “How is it that you weren’t afraid to be lawyer to the devil himself but the thought of saying your vows in front of my mother has you quaking?”

“Because Lucifer was business. Your mother…” She shakes her head. “Tomorrow. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Part of me wants to reach out to her, to run my fingers over her temples and smooth her tangled hair back from her face. A far more intimate touch than just sex. A line I crossed with her once before. Never again.

“Tomorrow then.”

She goes inside, leaving me alone on the terrace as I mentally compile a checklist of things that will need to happen in the next week, from finalizing the details of the ceremony to updating my will and creating a prenup.

I glance over my shoulder. A light comes on in her room. Her shadow appears in the window. My jaw tightens as her shadow moves, pulling her dress up over her head and—

I turn my back on the penthouse and stand on my terrace a quarter mile above the street below, gazing out over a city of eight million people.

A sight that normally makes me proud, the skyscrapers and lights and endless stream of traffic a visual reminder of all I’ve overcome and conquered to get to the top.

But tonight, my thoughts aren’t on my accomplishments or future goals. They’re focused on the woman who’s just agreed to be my wife.