Page 8 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

A lump forms in my throat. I really enjoyed my job. And I liked working for Lauri and Bethany. Leaving was the right thing to do. But it was also another loss. Another reminder that there is very little in this world I can depend on.

“You didn’t know who I was when I walked into that bar.”

I shake my head. “No. I didn’t know who you were until you walked into my office.”

He stares at me. Assessing, evaluating. Then, at last, he nods. My shoulders sag as some of the tension eases between us.

“Ever since I made my first million, I’ve been the target of more than one woman trying to date me for my money or even trick me into marriage.”

I think of the pictures of him from the past few months, always with a beautiful woman on his arm or a bevy of admirers circled around him like a fan club.

“Sucks to be rich.”

Michail blinks, then throws his head back and laughs. Truly, deeply laughs. The sound ripples over me, slides into my skin and drifts down to my core. I press my legs together and focus on a point over his shoulder.

“There are downsides I didn’t anticipate.” He leans forward. “Gavriil mentioned the will you read during our meeting had been delivered by courier that morning. So you hadn’t seen the updated version?”

“No. I didn’t even know Lucifer had a third son until six hours before you walked in.”

“Was the new will completely rewritten?”

Unease creeps over me. “Everything was still my work except for the marriage clause and the amendment naming you as an heir.”

“Who wrote that section?”

“A lawyer from Athens your father had—”

“He was not my father.”

The revulsion coating his words sends a shiver down my spine.

I don’t like my birth father, either. From what little I can remember, and based on the few things my mother said, he was lazy and selfish at best. The two memories I have of him are starkly different.

The first is me sitting on his lap the Christmas before he left opening a present.

Warm, safe, happy. The second is him and my mother screaming at each other around Easter just a few months later right before he walked out. Scared, sad, hurt.

But I never experienced even a fraction of the bone-deep loathing Michail feels for Lucifer.

“Okay,” I say carefully, “Lucifer flew a lawyer in from Athens a few hours before he died. The lawyer drafted the amendment.”

“Is it legal?”

My unease flares into alarm. “The will? Of course it’s legal.”

“No way to break it?”

A dull throb begins to pulse in my temples. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted nothing to do with the inheritance.”

“I don’t want anything from him.” My relief is short-lived as Michail leans forward, determination burning in his eyes. “But I do want something he took from my mother.”

The throbbing turns into sharp stabs, like a tiny pickax being dug into my skull. I remember there being something about a bequest for Michail’s mother. A collection of paintings. But Lucifer had tied it to the stipulation that Michail marry in order for his mother to receive it.

The man really had been a snake.

“I understand that.” I sigh. “I know the lawyer who authored the amendment. He does things by the book. You could try fighting in court. But I wouldn’t expect it to be broken.”

I brace for an argument, for him to push. But he simply continues to regard me, his face pondering.

“Then I only have one option.”

I stare at him. “You mean get married?”

His nod carries the weight of a death knell. It feels like someone plunged their hand into my chest and squeezed my lungs so hard I can barely catch my breath.

It shouldn’t matter. I didn’t want him to be involved with the baby’s life. Why do I care if he gets married?

“What’s wrong?”

I feel like a bug under a microscope with how closely he’s watching me. I force a small smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have brought this up so soon.”

Irritation gives my flagging energy a small boost. “I’m not a porcelain doll, Michail. I can handle reviewing a will and making some inquiries.”

He stands. “You need to rest.”

“I have been. I barely left my bed in the hospital, and I’ve been doing nothing but sitting and reading since I got here.

” I fold my hands together and inhale deeply.

“If you’re marrying purely for the sake of the will, then it doesn’t really matter.

But if you’re considering proposing to someone who might be involved in your life, then we would need to discuss the potential impact her presence could have on the baby. ”

The thought of another woman holding my son, of sharing those moments with Michail, creates an ugly swirl of hurt and envy inside me. It’s just because of the baby. Nothing to do with Michail.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

His deep chuckle interrupts my thoughts. I frown. “What?”

“I’m not marrying someone else, Alessandra.”

“Oh.” My relief is short-lived when he kneels in front of me. The weight in my chest shifts, gravitates downward toward my stomach. Surely he can’t be suggesting that we…

“You and I will get married.”