Page 22 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

I glanced around the home furnishing boutique, taking in the elegant display of handcrafted wooden side tables and plush velvet throw pillows. The shop’s soft lighting created a warm, intimate atmosphere, matching my suddenly euphoric mood.

“I’m pregnant,” I told my sister as soon as she answered.

The words felt surreal leaving my lips. When we’d returned to Athens, I’d taken two tests, both negative. But the unusual mid-afternoon fatigue and tenderness I felt when Konstantin’s hand brushed against my breast had grown increasingly insistent.

“Oh, my goodness! Congrats, sis! Can’t believe you’re entering your mummy era!” Simone’s excited voice filled my ear, bringing an immediate smile to my face.

“I know!” I replied, running my free hand over my stomach. “I keep touching my tummy like I’ll suddenly feel something, even though I know it’s too early.”

“How does Konstantin feel? This baby means fulfilling Daddy’s conditions.” The practical side of Simone always emerged, even in moments of celebration.

I wondered how Konstantin would react. The way he’d held me in Corfu, the conversations we had. Those moments had felt real.

But this baby changed everything. The clock on our arrangement would now begin counting down, tying us together for at least eighteen years.

Would Konstantin see our child as an heir, a condition met, or something more personal? And what did I want him to feel?

I gazed out the boutique’s front window, watching fashionable Athenians stroll past, all oblivious to my world shifting on its axis. “You’re the first to know. Konstantin has been trying to catch up on all he missed while we were in Corfu.”

I barely saw him after we returned from Corfu. We saw each other in the mornings during breakfast and again when he slid under the sheets at night to hold me.

“Sis, I’m so happy for you!” Simone’s voice softened, and I could picture her bright smile.

“Me too,” I replied, watching a couple across the room debate the merits of a dining table. “Now I just need to figure out the perfect way to tell K he’s going to be a daddy.”

“Ooh, do something creative!” Simone suggested. “Maybe hide a test in a gift box or order one of those custom onesies that says ‘Daddy’s little CFO’ or something cute like that.”

I laughed, the sound drawing a glance from a woman examining throw pillows nearby. “That’s so not his style. Konstantin would probably appreciate a spreadsheet with the projected costs and ROI.”

“Return on investment for a baby?” Simone giggled.

“Between Daddy’s conditions and K’s prenuptial agreement, this baby is literally worth millions.”

I stood up, wandering toward a display of nursery furniture while balancing my phone between ear and shoulder. My fingers traced the smooth curve of a wooden crib.

“Speaking of Daddy,” Simone’s voice took on a more serious tone, “he’s dealing with a shadow investor who’s buying shares of the company at a rapid pace. Someone’s been playing the stock market at our expense. There’s tension within the board, as everyone has been pointing fingers at each other.”

“Oh, my,” I said, my pregnancy momentarily forgotten. “How’s Daddy holding up? What can I do?”

A saleswoman approached with a smile, but I waved her off.

“I’ll figure it out. This is my chance to show Daddy I can become CEO. Matt has been helping me as well.”

I paced across the Italian marble floor. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No offense, Kay, but you know next to nothing about business. Focus on my nephew and on the interior design of Thalassía.”

She was right, of course. I had a lot on my plate these days.

Tia had suggested to the family that I be the interior designer for the villa she was restoring on the island. Nobody had challenged her, and it became a foregone conclusion.

When I’d asked about a budget, my husband had simply sipped his morning coffee, fixed those dark eyes on me, and said there was none. It was why I was in this store today, surrounded by furnishings.

I’d spent hours researching the history of the island, poring over old photographs Domna had shared, trying to understand what made this place so special to the Christakis family.

The original villa had been simple yet elegant, embracing the natural beauty of its surroundings.

My vision was to honor that connection while creating spaces that felt both timeless and fresh.

“How are you so sure it’s a boy?” I asked, lightening the conversation.

“Because aunties know these things.”

“Got it,” I answered with a smile, imagining a baby boy who inherited K’s dark eyes, but with my nose perhaps.

The thought sparked a comforting feeling as I continued browsing through the store’s treasures, already mentally decorating both a nursery and the new villa.

How strange that something so small could already shift my perspective so dramatically. Suddenly, I was noticing children’s furniture, mentally calculating how many years before our child would need a proper desk.

“I should go, Sim. The saleswoman’s been hovering for the last five minutes, and I need to focus on these selections for Thalassía,” I said, catching the attendant’s hopeful glance.

“Love you, sis! Keep me posted on how K reacts to the news!”

“Will do. Love you too,” I replied before ending the call.

I spent another half hour exploring the boutique’s offerings, making detailed notes about several pieces that would work perfectly for Thalassía’s living spaces. The process of selecting furnishings that blended Mediterranean tradition with modern comfort was unexpectedly therapeutic.

I gathered my notes, ready to reward myself with a cappuccino from the café next door before heading to K’s office. The thought of sharing my news with K sent a flutter of nervous excitement through me as I stepped onto the sun-drenched sidewalk.

“Kayla!” The sound of my name stopped me just as I stepped outside.

I turned to find Stella approaching, elegant as ever in a tailored cream suit. Mentally, I added a note to my growing to-do list.

Shop on other islands where the likelihood of seeing Konstantin’s ex was minimal.

“Stella! What a surprise,” I greeted, adjusting the bag on my shoulder.

“I know! I was just looking at furniture for Konstantin and my place,” she replied. “The living room needs refreshing.”

Athens’ afternoon heat pressed against my skin as pedestrians moved around our sidewalk meeting.

“How lovely,” I responded, maintaining my smile even as she added, “I was even looking at some nursery items. Kostas and I want to be prepared for whenever the baby arrives.”

A cyclist rang his bell as he passed. “Always good to be prepared,” I offered neutrally.

“Have you been to Corfu recently? It’s gorgeous this time of year.”

My senses heightened, warning bells ringing. “It’s on my bucket list, actually. Heard the beaches are stunning.”

“Oh, they are! Konstantin and I just spent a month there together,” she confided, lowering her voice. “It was the anniversary of my brother’s death, and we wanted to be alone.”

Realization hit me like a splash of cold water. I had been the one with Konstantin in Corfu, falling asleep to the sound of waves against the shore and waking up entangled in his arms.

Not her.

As Stella continued with her fake story, every instinct screamed to tell her I knew exactly how the moonlight looked reflecting off the water from Konstantin’s bedroom balcony, because I’d been standing there with him.

My fingers twitched with the urge to pull out my phone and show her the dozens of photos of us together on those very beaches she claimed to have visited with him. But something in her eyes made my need to call her out dissolve into pity.

This woman wasn’t my rival. She was trapped in denial, constructing elaborate fantasies to avoid facing rejection.

“I’m sure he appreciated having someone who understands him so well.”

Her face brightened. “He’s still having nightmares, you know,” she continued. “About the four men who attacked him on the yacht. I hold him when he wakes up screaming.”

Before I could respond, Stella’s phone rang. “I must take this,” she said, already turning away. “We’ll catch up soon!”

During the ride to K’s office, Stella’s bizarre stories replayed in my mind. The way she’d spoken about Corfu—our Corfu—as if she’d been there with Konstantin instead of me was unsettling.

I debated whether to tell K about the encounter. On one hand, he should know his ex was delulu . On the other hand, bringing it up might seem petty or jealous, especially when we were finding our footing.

Besides, he’d been so consumed with work lately... Would adding this to his plate help anything? I absentmindedly touched my flat stomach, realizing I had bigger news to share than Stella’s delusions.

When the elevator doors slid open on the executive floor of Olympus Motors, I stepped into a space showcasing modern luxury. The first sedan ever built by the company gleamed on a slowly rotating platform at the center of the reception area, bathed in dramatic spotlighting.

The top floor housed five executive offices, though only three were currently filled.

According to K, when they moved to this sleek glass and steel building five years ago, they had offices built for Santo and Matthaios for whenever they joined the business.

With Matthaios running his own company and Santo obsessed with racing cars rather than selling them, that dream seemed permanently on hold.

The space boasted of refined masculine energy.

Leather seating in deep navy, contemporary sculptures of abstract automotive forms, and framed vintage racing photographs that chronicled the Christakis family’s long-standing love affair with speed and precision.

Every element spoke of power, tradition, and an unwavering commitment to excellence.

As I approached K’s office, clutching the cheesecake box from the cafe, the sound of raised voices made me slow my steps. Andreas sat tensely at his desk, his attention fixed on my husband and an older gentleman whose suit hung loosely on his frame.

“You owe me!” the older man’s voice slurred. “I deserve something for what happened!”

“I’ve already given you money this month,” K responded. “This can’t continue. You need rehabilitation, or there will be no more assistance.”

The man scoffed, swaying on his feet. “I don’t need doctors.” His voice cracked with raw emotion. “I need you to pay for what you did to Theo. My boy. He shouldn’t have been on your yacht.”

“K,” I called out, wanting to put an end to this confrontation.

All three men turned toward me. Andreas looked relieved, while the older man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed with confusion. K immediately crossed to me.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was softer than the one he’d been using moments before.

I lifted the white box. “Thought I’d surprise you with your favorite cheesecake from that place on Ermou. And cash in on that office tour you’ve been promising.” I flashed a smile that intentionally included the older gentleman, hoping to defuse the situation.

K squeezed my arm before turning back to the man. “I will send you the money, but this is the last time without treatment.” He shifted his attention to Andreas. “Find someone to take him home. No stops.”

“Yes, sir,” Andreas responded, already reaching for his phone.

When we entered K’s office and the glass door clicked shut behind us, I set the cheesecake aside and wrapped my arms around his waist. He returned the embrace, resting his chin atop my head.

“Who was that man?” I asked when we pulled apart, though I suspected I already knew.

“Theo’s father,” he answered, his voice rumbling against my ear. “Losing his son destroyed him. He was once a titan of industry, but grief transformed him into what you just saw.” Unspoken guilt hung heavy in his voice.

I reached up to stroke his face, feeling the slight roughness of his five o’clock shadow beneath my fingertips. “His son’s death is not your fault, K. The four armed men who attacked you are the ones to blame. Not you.”

I was about to tell him about the baby—our little nugget who wouldn’t exist if he hadn’t survived—when something in his expression changed.

“How do you know it was four men?” His voice had a steel edge.

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift.

“How did you know specifically that there were four men on the yacht?” His eyes had turned to obsidian, hard and impenetrable.

“You told me.” My hand dropped from his face as I tried to recall the conversation.

“I did not.”

“I’m sure you did,” I began, then stopped, mentally scrolling through our conversations about the shooting. The information had come from somewhere... “No, wait. It was Stella. I ran into her earlier today, and she mentioned—”

“Tell me everything she said,” K interrupted, his eyes intensely focused on mine. His fingers tightened around my wrists. “Every word, Kayla. Don’t leave anything out.”

I took a deep breath and recounted the entire conversation, from Stella’s initial approach to her bizarre claims about their relationship and the specific details she’d shared about the yacht incident.

Throughout my explanation, K remained unnervingly still, his expression betraying nothing beyond careful attention.

“That’s everything,” I concluded, studying his face. “You don’t seem bothered by her fantasy version of your relationship.”

“Since you’re aware they’re delusions, I don’t have to address them,” Konstantin replied dismissively, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Go home, Kayla.”

“What? Why? I brought your favorite dessert.” I gestured toward the forgotten box. “And you promised to show me where all the magic happens with those fancy cars.”

“I’m sorry,” he added, his expression softening. “And I promise to make it up to you. But I’m asking you this once to trust me. I’ll explain everything later.”

The urgency in his tone made me nod despite my disappointment. I turned to leave, but before I could take a step, K pulled me back into his arms and kissed me, his lips insistent against mine.

“You are wrong, Michaila,” he murmured against my mouth.

“About?”

“My favorite dessert.” He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands cradling my face with tenderness. “You’re my favorite dessert. The one thing in my life that tastes sweet when everything else has turned bitter.”

I leaned into him, tempted to ignore his request to leave. But the silent plea in his eyes warned me not to push. With a sigh, I hugged him once more before stepping back.

As I reluctantly headed back to the elevator, the taste of his kiss remained on my lips, along with the unspoken news still waiting to be shared.