Page 28 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

Alessandra

I’m sitting beside a window overlooking the towers of New York City.

The view rivals that of my former Kingston office.

I’m seated in a private room of Cloud, one of the hottest and highest-rated restaurants in Manhattan.

Three walls are glass, offering unparalleled views of Central Park and the surrounding skyline.

The back wall is ivory, catching the colors of the setting sun and making the room glow.

The square table is draped in red linen with a candle glowing in the middle.

But the view is wasted on me as my finger hovers over my phone, specifically the send button.

I’ve written and rewritten this text a dozen times.

The one where I let Michail know that I have an ultrasound appointment in a few weeks.

The first version just included the date and time.

But then I was worried it wasn’t clear enough, so I rewrote it, asking him to let me know if he planned on attending.

Then, worried it sounded too friendly, I revised it again.

Will he want to come? Or will I be left waiting?

I don’t know which is worse. I don’t want him there, don’t want to see him, be near him, be reminded of everything we had and lost in such a short amount of time.

But I also want him there, want him to see the baby, to experience the same joy I saw on his face when he heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

I suck in a deep breath and hit Send. There. Done. My mother would tell me it’s the right thing to do. I hate it, hate the anticipation, hate my dueling emotions.

I set my phone down, pick up my glass of alcohol-free red wine and take a sip. I debated on whether to accept Gavriil’s invitation to join him for dinner. I have no doubt it’s related to Michail’s and my current predicament.

But I like Gavriil. Part of my reason for saying yes was rooted in morbid curiosity of finding out how Michail’s doing without actually communicating with him. And part of it is because I need a distraction.

I set the glass down a little too hard. Wine sloshes over the rim and lands on the tablecloth.

I sigh and lean back as a headache starts to drum at my temples.

It’s been nearly ten days since I left Sarah’s house.

Since I saw my husband. Those ten days have been utterly miserable.

I started my job at Regent. It’s a good job, and my boss has been nothing but accommodating.

I’ve already had three successful client meetings.

There’s so much potential there, a chance to hone my skills in financial planning as I work toward my dream of owning my own company.

Too often, thoughts of Michail intrude. It doesn’t help that the voicemails he’s been leaving make me crave his presence even more.

The little details he’s been sharing, from a new book he’s started reading to a little boy he saw learning how to ride a bike in the park.

These are the sorts of things I’d wanted from him. Pieces of the man I’d married.

But how can I open myself up again? Ironically, now that he’s trying to show me he’s willing to work on his trust, I’m not sure if I can give him mine again.

If I ever decide to get into another relationship, it will be with someone safe, someone who makes me happy and content but doesn’t drive me to these incredible highs or drag me down to these vicious lows. The happiness isn’t worth it. Not worth this pain at all.

Although the thought of going out with another man, let alone holding hands or even kissing someone who’s not Michail, makes me sick to my stomach.

The thick velvet curtain that separates the private room from the hallway outside rustles behind me. I smile as I glance down at my phone.

“You’re late.”

“I know.”

I freeze. Then, slowly, I turn.

Michail stands framed in the doorway. My heart breaks all over again having him be so close yet so far away. He’s handsome, of course, in a black suit and a white shirt molded perfectly to every muscle. His hands are clasped behind his back. The top button is still in place.

“What are you doing here?”

He’s staring at me as if he hasn’t seen me in years instead of just a week.

“I got your text. About the ultrasound.”

I frown. “The appointment’s not for four weeks.”

“I know. I wanted to see you.”

I sag. “Gavriil set me up.”

“He did. I didn’t know how else to see you. I understand,” he adds as I part my lips, “that I lied to get you here. If you tell me to go hell, I will turn around and leave. All I’m asking for is five minutes of your time. Five minutes to explain.”

As I hesitate, he pulls one hand out from behind his back to reveal a bouquet. But unlike the vases of roses that have been arriving on my doorstep like clockwork, this one features a cascade of fuchsia-colored bougainvillea blooms.

My heart twists. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers.”

“Yes, I did. Not just because I hurt you. But because I realized, as much as I’ve offered you everything my wealth can buy, I never offered you the little things. The things that mattered.”

I struggle to speak past the growing thickness in my voice. “You bought me the dress.”

“I did but even then, I chose the most expensive thing and the most expensive place. I thought that I was doing so much for others. But I’ve come to realize that doing what I thought was best was my own way of dealing with my past. Helping others without letting them get too close by making choices for them. ”

I stand on a precipice. One with the fall so deep I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to claw my way out if my heart breaks again.

But just as Michail has made mistakes, so have I.

I told him back in Santorini that I wish our mothers had let themselves be happier sooner.

But I’m guilty of the same tactic they used to keep their hearts safe, of keeping myself locked up so tightly nothing got in. Not the bad, but not the good, either.

I love him. Love without his trust means nothing. But if I don’t extend him that same trust, then I have accepted that there is no other outcome, no possibility, but our divorce.

I’m not ready to let go of that hope just yet.

I gesture for him to join me at the table. His body slowly relaxes, as if each muscle is unknotting. He circles around the table and sits across from me. His sheer presence envelops me, tempts me.

“I told you what it was like growing up. How I started to do better managing my anger in middle school.”

“I remember.” I glance down. “I thought you were holding something back, but I didn’t want to push.”

“I was holding back.” My gaze darts back to his. “Not just because it’s painful, but because it took hurting someone and pushing her to the edge for me to correct it.”

“Your mother.”

He nods. “One day she came down to the school. I’d punched a kid in the face in the cafeteria. Something was off. I learned later Lucifer had told her he wanted to set up another meeting. But she knew he wasn’t going to come. It was just his way of making sure she was staying compliant.”

My stomach pitches up into my throat.

“She barely talked, barely even looked at me. When the principal told her I was on the verge of getting expelled, she started crying. And then she couldn’t stop.”

I try to picture Sarah—happy, sweet Sarah—so hopeless and broken.

“The principal called an ambulance after she’d been crying for nearly thirty minutes. She wasn’t talking, just crying and grunting. By the time we got to the hospital, they’d given her a sedative. It was like looking at a shadow of who she used to be.”

“I’m sorry, Michail.”

“She recovered, obviously.” His eyes are dark with regret. “But it took a week for them to release her. She lost one of her jobs. It took her months to…to be herself again. I started applying myself in school and stopped getting into fights.”

He steps back but laces his fingers through mine as he gently pulls me forward again.

“When I started controlling my actions, good things happened to our family. She stopped accepting the money from Lucifer and cut him out of her life. I started working a part-time job and brought in enough money that she was able to get her degree and become a certified teacher.

“I didn’t tell you before because it wasn’t my story to tell.

Or at least that’s what I told myself. But I never talked to my mom.

I told myself that if I asked her permission to share, it would just hurt her.

Just like I wanted to take care of everything with giving you spending money and buying furniture for the nursery.

I’ve never let go of that guilt. It helped me shore up the walls I used to keep people out.

I’m sorry.” The words come out as if they’d been wrenched from his soul.

“I hurt you, so many times, and I am sorry.”

I smooth out an imaginary wrinkle in my skirt, focusing on that so he can’t see the tears in my eyes. “Thank you.”

He stands and comes back to my side of the table. I swallow hard as he extends a hand to me.

“Dance with me.”

The same words he said to me in Santorini. I feel like I’m pitching headfirst over a cliff. Am I an idiot for daring to think that Michail could really change? That this could be something like what I dreamed about all those months ago?

I think back to that moment in my room in the penthouse when I reached for the wedding dress. The instant I realized just how much I had missed out on by living in my mother’s footsteps. How much more I could let slip through my fingers in pursuit of keeping my heart intact.

I place my hand in his, my breath catching as he gently but firmly pulls me to my feet. He guides me out onto the balcony. I frown as I glimpse a covered easel tucked off to the side. It had been out of sight from where I was sitting.

“What is that?”

Michail doesn’t answer. He pulls out his phone and taps the screen. A moment later, music fills the air. Deep, seductive. He moves next to the easel.

“I remember so many things about our night together. One of them was dancing under the stars with you.”

I glance up at the sky, giving myself a much-needed break from gazing at my husband and fighting the urge to go to him. “Hard to see stars in the city.”

“It is. So I brought the stars to you.”

He pulls the sheet off. I stare at the canvas, navy blue dotted with silver. As I step closer, I see the date at the bottom.

“Is that…?”

“A map of the stars from the night we met.”

My hear twists in my chest as my pulse starts to pound. “Michail…”

He crosses to me, slowly easing one arm around my waist as he captures my hand in the other. We begin to dance, swaying, our bodies drifting closer as the music weaves a spell that brings my past and present together in a moment so emotionally powerful I want to cry.

Michail rests his cheek against my hair.

“What I should have told you that night was how much you fascinated me. How much I wanted to get to know you. Not just your body, but you, Alessandra.” He leans back so I can see his eyes, see his feelings blazing with pale blue fire.

“I told myself I felt that way because I was raw from talking to Lucifer. More susceptible to emotions I didn’t normally allow myself to feel.

But it wasn’t that. It was you. We should have woken up the next morning tangled up in each other so tight we’d have known right then we couldn’t let each go. ”

“I wanted to stay.” I blink back hot tears. “But I didn’t want to be that woman.”

“I know. I didn’t give you a choice.” He lays his forehead against mine.

“I have been hoping and praying for days that you will give me one more chance. That you’ll choose me just one more time.

I will do everything in my power to be more open, to show you I trust you, I believe in you, and most importantly,” he says as he stops our dancing and lifts a hand to my face, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “that I love you.”

I suck in a shuddering sob.

“What?”

“I love you, Alessandra. Lexi.” His hand cradles my face.

I lean into his touch. “I didn’t understand why the memory of you drove me crazy, why it hurt so much when I thought you had been working with Lucifer.

But I know now that it’s because I fell in love with you that first night.

I fell and I’ve kept falling the more and more I’ve gotten to know you.

” He touches his forehead to mine. “Please tell me it’s not too late. ”

Slowly, I reach out and grab his other hand. I place it on my stomach and lay my hand on top of his.

“I’m scared.”

“I am, too. But I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I will be here for you, for the baby.”

“Our baby.”

He leans back, his eyes wide. “That’s the first time you referred to him as ours.”

I nod. “I thought I’d repeated my mother’s mistakes by falling in love with you.” I reach up and trace a finger over his lips. “I knew on our honeymoon. But I didn’t want to push you. When you were so angry…” I shake my head. “I was holding your reaction up to how I felt.”

“You had every right to.”

“To a point,” I agree. “But I did walk away. I nearly repeated my mother’s pattern in the worst way possible. I almost lost out on a lifetime with you because I was scared.”

He crushes me to him. “Alessandra…”

“I don’t want to get a divorce, Michail.

” I reach up and place my hands on his face.

“I want to be your wife. I want to raise our son together, and maybe another baby or two. I want to be by your side as you grow your business, and I want you by mine as I work toward my own goals. I want…” My voice cracks. “I just want you. Always you.”

He leans down and kisses me, a searing kiss I feel all the way to my soul. As we stand there, bodies warmed by the setting sun and each other, I know I’ve found my happily-ever-after.