Page 13 of The Maid's Pregnancy Bombshell

‘Your husband? Probably sleeping, Mrs Sarris. From what the staff told me, he was so worried about you that he sat up all night with you.’

Alana’s lips rounded into a soft ‘oh’ of surprise, but her heart warmed. Ares had worried about her. Presumably, that was why he had been in her room when she’d surfaced in the middle of the night. Even though it was only a dose of the flu, she could understand why he had been concerned when she had fainted the way she had, wincing at what a show she must have made of them collapsing like that in a public place.

Fay asked her if she would like some breakfast.

‘I’m not hungry—’

‘Dr Melrose is concerned that you have missed so many meals and that you still have little appetite,’ Fay said. ‘It would be great if you could try to eat something. Toast?’

Alana nodded absently.

Living in at the hotel, she had got thinner, she conceded, probably because she worked long hours and, when she wasn’t working in what was often a very physical job, she ate whatever was cheapest and quickest to prepare in the small kitchen in the staff quarters.

‘Who’s Dr Melrose?’ she asked.

‘She’s very nice. Your husband brought her in to check you over yesterday. I arrived about the same time and I put you to bed.’

Alana sank back into her huge bed and dully surveyed a bedroom the size of a football pitch. If this was Ares’s home, he lived in incredibly opulent style. At least he hadn’t dared to undress her and put her into the gothic nightdress. Last night she had been so pale and washed out in appearance she had resembled a corpse in her white shroud. Luckily, she was still feeling too unwell to care what she looked like.

Fay switched on the giant television on the wall and brought her the controls. ‘This is the most fabulous house I have ever been in,’ she confided in some excitement, but Alana was already sliding back into sleep again, exhausted by her time awake.

Over the following couple of days, there were times that Alana didn’t know whether she was asleep or in a waking dream but slowly, far more slowly than she would have liked, she began feeling better. There were glimpses of Ares in her recent memories and she didn’t know whether they were real or imagined. She had an image of him gazing down at her from his great height, dark golden eyes troubled as she tossed and turned. She had another image of him working at a laptop while he sat by the window and looking up, finding her staring, he had said, ‘You should eat something.’

‘Not hungry,’ she had told him hoarsely as he’d brought the straw in the water glass within reach of her parched lips.

‘Some women would eat just to please me,’ he had told her with assurance.

Her nose had wrinkled. ‘Not that desperate,’ she had mumbled and he had laughed.

Had that exchange really happened? she wondered now that she felt stronger and her appetite had returned. Breakfast arrived very soon after Fay had ordered it by phone. It came on a trolley as though she were in a hotel and two servers accompanied it, one carting a lap tray, which was unfurled for her use and soon furnished with flowers and cutlery, the other showing off the choices on the trolley. A lot more than tea and toast had been prepared. There was oatmeal, eggs, toast, pastries, fruit and, like Fay, everyone was so patently keen for her to eat that she duly took the eggs even though she couldn’t eat very much. Soon after that, the female doctor called in, a serious young woman, who talked to her about good nutrition.

Having slept the afternoon away, Alana felt well enough to try out the rainwater shower in the bathroom with Fay nearby in case she became dizzy. Refreshed, she was disconcerted when the nurse informed her that the dressing room off the bedroom was packed with her clothes, which had arrived two days earlier. Alana discovered that her new wardrobe and her own small stock of clothes were now combined. Ares must’ve had the apartment she had been using cleared and her possessions transferred to his home. Clad in shorts and a vest, her hair dried at Fay’s insistence, she felt better.

Skye phoned her from Italy. ‘Good to know that you’re making Ares Sarris work at this marriage,’ her sister said teasingly.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘You bridegroom was on the phone to me the day before yesterday for almost half an hour—’

‘What did he phone you for?’ Alana exclaimed with a frown.

‘He’s contacted us every day since you fell ill. He’s been asking questions and not about business. He had to know what sort of books you read, what sort of movies you like, what you like to eat, what your favourite colours are... Oh, there’s no end of detail to what Ares feels that heneedsto know!’ Her sister punctuated that comment with an appreciative giggle. ‘So, I haven’t worried too much about you being ill, not with your personal doctor and nurse on call, and Ares ready to go to superhuman lengths to ensure that you’re well looked after.’

‘I’m amazed,’ Alana responded honestly.

‘I was as well. I thought he was a total iceberg...but underneath there’s definitely a thoughtful guy trying to break out. Enzo thinks it’s very funny. He used to think Ares was a total stuffed shirt and a grinch and now he’s wondering.’

A knock sounded on the door and Fay answered it. Two staff members carried in a table and placed it beside the window. A third brought a dining chair.

‘I believe your husband’s planning to join you for dinner,’ her nurse told her in anAren’t-you-a lucky-girl?tone.

Alana forced a smile. Fake new bride, she reminded herself anxiously. Ironic though, she thought wryly, that Ares had still contrived to spend their official wedding night with her. Presumably his visits were for the benefit of his staff and he was doubtless resenting the hell out of that necessity. After all, the plan had been for a separation immediately after the wedding ceremony. She was already falling down on herfakewifely duties, she reflected ruefully. It would be natural for Ares to feel annoyed when she had fallen ill and he had not felt it possible to walk away.

But what was the actual purpose of the bogus wife charade? she finally stopped to wonder with intense curiosity. What could make a male as strong as Ares Sarris resort to such a tactic? That fascinated her.

Alana went into the bathroom to brush her hair, pinch her pale cheeks and use her lip gloss and every step of the way she told herself off for doing so. So, she was attracted to him. No big deal. Adolescent crushes had taught her that a girl didn’t always get what she wanted, especially if he was a teen idol in a band. That was life and Ares Sarris had more choice of female company than most, not to mention the fact that he preferred to abide by their contract and was determined not to break it. Even though he alreadyhadin a small way with that kiss? Alana went pink, recalling that surge of wicked uncensored hunger that had flooded her and squirming at the recollection. She was less impressed remembering Ares’s cool retreat in the aftermath.

Ares strode through the door and her nurse studied him with glazed appreciation written all over her face. Yes, he was very, very good-looking, especially with a five o’clock shadow of stubble enhancing his strong jawline. Even Alana was riveted to her pillows, just taking in the whole vibrant vision of her warrior angel. Silvery hair ruffled over that classic hard-boned face, dark deep-set eyes with a hint of gold, a dark formal business suit perfectly tailored to his lean muscular frame. She watched him dismiss her nurse, barely breaking his stride, and then the food arrived along with what appeared to be deliveries, which were settled onto the foot of her bed.

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