Page 19 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

Michail

Candles float overhead , flickering against the darkness of the summer night. A full orchestra plays at the far end of the terrace. Waiters move to and fro with trays of champagne.

The International Children’s Charity gala is underway.

I’m usually seeking out opportunities to connect at events like this, to network and further advance Sullivan Security.

It’s clients like these that keep the true purpose of Sullivan in business; providing security systems for those who need them most. It’s not cheap to keep my own satellites orbiting above the Earth and providing the kind of service that reaches those communities.

But when a millionaire or a world-renowned museum is willing to pay seven figures for a private consultation with Sullivan Security, and even more for a custom-designed system from a former officer in NYPD’s Special Crimes Division, it goes a long way.

Add in our traditional security systems for the average customer, and Sullivan Security continues to advance.

There’s a vague sense of anticipation, of meeting the lawyer who will authorize the return of my mother’s paintings and finally putting Lucifer behind me once and for all.

Tonight, however, I’m not thinking about new contracts or hobnobbing with current clients. At this moment, my attention is focused on the woman at my side.

Alessandra is beautiful in deep, vibrant violet.

The gown is a perfect fit. Sometime between when I left her bed to get dressed myself and came back, she’d styled her hair in loose waves that fall over her bare shoulders and down her back.

Diamond bobs glint at her ears, the only jewelry besides the engagement and wedding rings on her finger.

More than one man is looking at her with appreciation. I step closer to her, catching their gazes and watching with possessive satisfaction as they blanch and look away.

“You’re not going to make friends if you keep glaring at people like that.”

I capture her hand in mind and bring it to my lips. “I’m not here to make friends. And it’s their fault if they continue to look at you like you’re available.”

Her smirk of a smile makes my chest clench. After having her this afternoon, experiencing her passion again and embracing everything she gave me, the thought of another man looking at her with covetous eyes sends a bolt of fury pounding through me.

“You don’t have to be jealous, Michail.”

“But I do. I always protect what’s mine.”

I mean every word. It’s not just the baby.

Not anymore, although I’m coming to suspect it never was just about our son to begin with.

Alessandra has been a part of me since that night.

I still have a long way to go in convincing her to stay after our year is up.

But we’re headed in the right direction.

She’s mine, whether she’s ready to accept it or not.

Something flickers in her eyes. Before I can pursue it, a man appears in front of us. Tall, lean, his skin tanned a deep bronze and his silver hair combed back from a broad forehead, he looks every inch the wealthy lawyer.

“Mr. Sullivan.”

“Mr. Lykios.”

He inclines his head. “Thank you for altering your plans at the last minute. I apologize for the sudden change in my schedule.” He turns to Alessandra and bows his head. “Mrs. Sullivan, I presume.”

“Yes.” Her smile is gracious. “Thank you for finding a way to meet with us. As you can imagine, the paintings are very important to my husband.”

I jolt. It’s the first time I’ve heard Alessandra refer to me as her husband.

“Yes.” Lykios cocks his head to one side. “Formerly Alessandra Wright?”

Her arm tenses against mine. “Yes.”

Before Lykios can say anything else, a woman in a black dress swoops up. Her tiny body fairly vibrates with energy.

“Alexander, you must come. Frederick Woodowitz is about to leave and you haven’t finalized the terms of the new contract.”

Lykios gives us a long-suffering look as he allows himself to be led away by the woman I can only assume is his wife.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return momentarily.”

I turn to Alessandra as he departs. Her cheeks are pale, her lips tense. I place the hand on her lower back and pull her closer.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She shakes her head. “No. This is what I was afraid of. Of people judging me, making insinuations.”

Her gaze darts around the terrace.

“Why does it matter what they think?”

Her breath comes out in a rush. “It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter at all.”

The orchestra strikes up another tune.

“Dance with me.”

She stares at me like I grew a second head. “What?”

“Dance with me.” I grab her hand in mine and tug her toward the dance floor. “Unless you can’t?”

My words tease a small smile from her.

“All right.”

I lead her onto the floor and spin her out in a dramatic fashion that has the chiffon flaring out around her legs. Her smile grows as I pull her close and wrap one arm around her waist.

“I never pictured you as the dancing type.”

“Given that Gavriil thinks I was raised in the woods by wolves, I can understand why.”

She tilts her head back and laughs, a deep, husky sound that reaches inside my chest and creates a warmth I’m not prepared to deal with. The first time I’ve heard her truly laugh.

“I’m glad the three of you are getting closer.”

I lead her into a turn, pulling her body closer to mine as we navigate the dance floor in time to the music.

“We are. Slowly.”

“I don’t think speed matters in a case like this.”

I tilt my head to one side as I gaze down at her. “Spoken like someone who has dealt with cases like this before.”

“Far too often. I’ve dealt with lovers, scorned spouses, secret children, broken-hearted friends.”

I frown. “That sounds terrible.”

“It could be. There was also a lot of reward. Helping people figure out what kind of legacy they wanted to leave, how to help the ones they loved even when they were no longer here.”

Guilt twists in my gut. Yes, our night together was one of mutual pleasure. But it cost her the career she loved.

“How did you get into it?”

“I knew I always wanted to go into something with numbers. I loved math. It was like a puzzle with numbers that was always wanting to be solved. I liked the challenge.” The smile fades from her face as her eyes grow distant with memories.

“When I was sixteen, my mother was in an accident. She was riding her bike and a car blew through a stop sign and hit her. She ended up with a couple broken ribs and a concussion. But it could have been worse. More like…”

Her voice trails off. My grip tightens on hers.

When we met, it had only been a few months since her mother had passed from a heart attack no one saw coming.

The thought of losing my own mother is something I can’t even begin to contemplate, let alone so suddenly.

Knowing that Alessandra had a special relationship with her own mother, that she had nearly lost her once before, is a pain I feel as if it were my own.

“When she got back from the hospital, she set up a life insurance policy. She sat me down, outlined everything she had: student loans, bank account information, the insurance policy. It was overwhelming. But I latched on to the numbers, the patterns. I looked stuff up and found a better insurance policy.”

“And your passion was born.”

She smiles slightly. “I guess you could say it like that. Especially once I found out the kind of salary I could earn if I work my way to the top, it seemed like a natural way to go. To not have the uncertainty I grew up with.”

She hesitates, then looks up at me. My chest tightens at the naked vulnerability in her eyes. This is what I want: her trust, her surrender. My guilt deepens. Because I know that whatever she’s about confide in me, I’m not ready to confide in her.

I don’t know if I ever will be.

“I don’t remember much of my father. The few memories I do have are usually him and my mom yelling at each other.

They were college sweethearts. She got pregnant.

He told her she could go back to school but should stay home with me so they didn’t have to pay for daycare.

He told her he would work and take care of everything. ”

Just like that, I have a better understanding of Alessandra’s need for independence. Her mother trusted a man, just as mine did, and was punished for it.

“He stuck around for the first three years before he decided he’d had enough of working all the time.

” One corner of her mouth turns up into a sad smile.

“I think the worst part is he had the potential to be a really good dad. I have a few memories where he was everything I wanted in a father. But he didn’t have the drive to make it happen. ”

I glance down at her stomach. Emotion, fierce and deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced, fills me. Alessandra and I have both experienced what life is like without a father. Our son will never experience such a reality. He will always know that I am there for him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” she says with a lift of her chin.

Strength and defiance. “If he didn’t want to be there, then it was a good thing he left.

The worst part were my grandparents, or specifically, my grandmother.

They weren’t wealthy like this—” she nods to the glittering crowd around us “—but well off enough that they had plans for their little girl that didn’t include a wastrel of a son-in-law or an unplanned pregnancy. ”

Blood starts to pound at my temples, a serious drum as I foresee the direction this conversation is about to take.

“What happened?”