Page 23 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

Michail

We meander through the streets, hands clasped together, rarely speaking. More people fill the streets, tourists with cameras and phones pointed at the iconic blue domes, the churches, the caldera that cradles the sea. We duck down twisting paths with no destination in mind.

I’ve never felt more content in my life.

Eventually we end up at the edge of the city, whitewashed walls behind us and the sea laid out in its deep blue splendor before us.

“My mother would have loved this.”

I remember the picture I saw in her office, the happy grins and pure joy on both Alessandra and her mother’s faces.

“What was she like?”

Alessandra’s lips curve into a slight smile, her face softening as she gazes out over the sea.

“Incredible. Strong and supportive. She worked two jobs while studying for her nursing assistant qualification. When she got her nursing degree, we went apartment hunting. She taught me to enjoy the little pleasures but live within my means.”

“A wise woman.”

“Those first years were hard on her. Learning how to balance a budget, how to forego things she took for granted.”

“Another reason for your interest in finance?”

“My mom made mistakes early on. She never hid it from me. Since I loved numbers, she’d even have me help her with the budget, figure out how much we could afford for our new apartment.

Graduating with her was the proudest moment of my life.

” She squeezes my hand. “Your mom reminds me of her. Both going to school and pursuing a dream to create a better life for us.”

“And it was just the two of you?”

Alessandra nods. “She didn’t trust others after my father left.

I don’t think she trusted herself, either.

She fell hard when she met him. Looking back, she said it was all heat and no substance.

But she ignored the warning signs, especially when my grandparents threatened to stop paying for her college. ”

“You never saw him again?”

She slowly shakes her head. “No. The only real memory I have of him is the day he left. He came out of the bedroom. I heard my mom crying. I was playing with some wood blocks. He walked by, looked at me and said, ‘Sorry, kiddo.’ And then he was gone.”

I slide an arm around her shoulders and pull her a little closer.

First her father walking away from her, then her grandparents labeling her as nothing more than a mistake.

It’s no small wonder that she has a hard time letting people in when the people who should have loved her the most abandoned not just her but her mother.

“My mom didn’t go on a date until three years ago.”

Alessandra leans into me. My body tightens with need.

Part of me wants to whisk her back to the villa now.

But I also want to be with her now, like this, sharing pieces of herself like she did during our night together.

Her confessions then were propelled by grief and passion.

Right now, though, Alessandra is sharing herself because she wants to. And I want every piece she’ll give me.

I’ve never felt this way before. Never wanted to know someone on a deeper level. But each new thing I learn about the mother of my child adds to the complex layers of a dynamic woman who’s quickly becoming an integral part of my life.

“I wish they could have let themselves be happier sooner.”

Her words linger as we walk down the path to the water’s edge.

When I had knocked on her door that morning and then opened it to find the bed made and no sign of her suitcase, I’d experienced a bone-deep fear similar to when she’d fainted outside her office in New York.

Had I ruined things so quickly after we’d just finally made progress?

I’d pushed her away from joining me at an event only made possible by her.

And then, instead of owning up to my behavior, I’d jumped on one thing she’d said and used it as an excuse to put even more distance between us.

The relief I’d felt when she had finally answered her phone this morning had momentarily robbed me of speech.

When she’d told me where she was, I’d allowed myself a sliver of cautious hope.

I hadn’t planned on opening up to her. There had been several moments where I’d almost stopped.

But she had taken everything I’d shared and given back compassion in an instant.

Compassion and understanding, although I’m not sure I deserve either.

The least I could do was show her I had heard her last night.

Was making the effort even if I couldn’t go all the way.

As she picks up a stone and tosses it toward the waves, I can’t recall the last time I was happy. There have been moments, like when I bought Mom her house an hour north of the city, or when Sullivan Security cleared the billion-dollar mark after launching our latest system.

I pick up a stone and hurl it, easily outdistancing Alessandra’s throw. She laughs and accuses me of cheating. As I stare at her, the wind whipping her hair across her face, the swell of her stomach pressing against her dress, I want happiness. Not just for me, but for her.

I opened up to her this morning. Is it possible for me to open up even more, to let her in? To tell her just how closely I came to breaking my mother the same way Lucifer did?

No. She’s accepted my apology. Accepted what she knows about me.

But I haven’t told her everything. Doubt flickers inside.

Would she even want me to be involved with our son if she found out?

Learned how my actions hurt my mother just as badly as Lucifer did?

Even though she hadn’t been comparing me to him last night, my assumption had rekindled an old, deep-rooted fear that I was far more like my birth father than I ever thought possible.

I know I can rise above his legacy and be a good father. But can I truly let go of my need to control? Place not only my trust but my heart in Alessandra’s hands? Once I fully let her in, I won’t just be opening the door to her and a future with her. I’ll be giving her the power to betray, to hurt.

I slide my hand in hers, focusing on the sensation of her palm resting intimately against mine as we walk back up the path. For now, I’ll focus on today and the woman at my side.

We find a café tucked away among a sea of houses.

We dine on a tomato-cucumber salad drizzled with olive oil and meat and grilled vegetables threaded onto wooden skewers.

After lunch we continue on, passing the infamous blue-domed church before Alessandra ducks into a bookshop, the walls packed from ceiling to floor with titles in English, French, German, Chinese and Greek.

There’s no rhyme or reason to our wanderings, just the fun of exploring a new place with someone whose company I like.

Her enjoyment of the world around us makes me feel like I’m coming out of a deep sleep, one where I’ve been so focused on my goals of building up Sullivan Security and providing for my mother that I’ve missed out on far more than I realized.

When the air cools as the sun starts to slide down in the sky, we head back toward the villa. As we pass the bar where I found her this morning, the bar where it all began, Alessandra stops.

“Care to join me for a drink?”

Something shifts in my chest. I comprehend the significance of this gesture, what she’s offering me. I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss her fingers.

“I’d like that.”

The waitress greets us with bright eyes and an even brighter smile.

She seats us at the same long table that hugs the far wall.

Beyond the low stone wall lies the half-moon bay and the rocky wall of the caldera.

The view is incredible. But again, just like that night nearly six months ago now, my eyes are drawn to the woman across from me.

I grasp her hand, brush my thumb over her ring.

“The moment I saw this ring, I knew it was yours.”

Her fingers tense in my grasp.

“But…you said Anthony picked it out.”

I raise her hand to my lips, brush her lips across her knuckles the same way I did the night I proposed. But this time I gently scrape my teeth against her skin, savor her sharp inhale.

“No. I said he told me it was the most expensive ring he had. I picked it out.”

I look down at the ring. I knew the moment I saw it I wanted it for her. Even when I told myself it was all for show, I wanted it for my wife.

“Diamonds for your elegance. Emerald for your eyes. And silver for moonlight on your skin.”

Her eyes glisten in the dim lighting. She swallows hard.

“Thank you.”

The raw emotion in her voice seeps into my skin, wraps around my heart with a warmth I never thought possible. Music filters through the air as our waitress sets down my ouzo cocktail and a lavender lemonade for Alessandra. I smile at my wife.

“Dance with me.”

I pull her on to the dance floor, gather her into the circle of my arms. I clasp one of her hands in mine, the contrast of her delicate fingers in my large grasp kindling a sense of protectiveness as I wrap my other arm around her waist. I lean my head against her hair and breathe in.

Her scent, roses and that faint hint of dark, sends need straight through my body to my groin.

I hear her sigh, feel her press her hips against me as we sway to the music. My hand tightens on hers.

“Alessandra…”

She leans back and smiles at me. “What?”

I tug her closer again and put my lips to her ear. “Tease.”

I nip her lobe with my teeth, drink in the sound of her gasp, revel in the way her body arches into mine.

“Maybe we should cut dinner short.”

The breathlessness in her voice yanks me to the edge of my control.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

“Because I want you.”

“I want you, too.” I tilt my head back so I can smile down at her. “I intend to enjoy every inch of your body tonight.” Her lips part as her eyes flash with lust. “And the pleasure will be even more incredible with the heightened anticipation.”

“You’re not playing fair.”