Page 18 of The Maid's Pregnancy Bombshell

ARESFLIPPEDVERYslowly through the photos sent by Alana’s protection team, magnifying most of them and scrutinising all of them with careful attention to detail. His wife had been enjoying the hell out of herself since his departure. He had never seen any woman smile so much. If he had assumed she would simply rest back on her sunlounger and work on her tan while taking the occasional break to shop until she dropped, he had been very much mistaken. And if he had worried that his sudden exit could have upset or hurt her, he had been equally misguided.

There she was on Saadiyat Island, soaking up the culture at the Louvre Abu Dhabi, stocking up on art supplies from the Manarat al Saadiyat and strolling along a shaded pathway in the garden city of Al Ain. She was perfectly dressed in respect of local mores, chino trousers hugging her long legs, a simple cotton top screening her delectable curves from the heat, but that river of honey-blonde hair and that perfect pouty mouth were unmistakeable even though he couldn’t see her eyes because she wore sunglasses below a stylish beaded trilby hat. She had spent hours in the Al Qattara Arts Centre, exploring the archaeological finds on display there and participating in a pottery class.

His wife...and wasn’t it strange how the moment he’dlefther, he began to view her as his wife? And his wife, it seemed, had no problems playing the tourist. There she was, driving an SUV and trying to climb dunes in the desert—far too dangerous, he had warned her security team, furious they hadn’t prevented that. She was also happily getting friendly with Saluki hounds, having her hands and feet painted with henna designs and dressing up in traditional Arabic dress for a photographer. She was having a terrific time without him and she was thoroughly enjoying herself. And hadn’t he planned those activities for her amusement? Hadn’t he instructed a private tour operator to satisfy her every wish?

As the week stretched on, inexplicably feeling like the longest week of Ares’s life, he saw snaps of his wife kayaking in the Mangrove National Park, sailing, snorkelling and scuba diving. She was fearless and athletic and what her shapely curves did for a modest black swimsuit should be outlawed. He hadn’t liked the idea that her protection team had seen her so lightly clad and he was ashamed of that obvious streak of sexual possessiveness, which he had never experienced before. But the acknowledgement that lingered longest with him? Not once did Alana do what any other woman he knew would have done in Abu Dhabi when furnished with a bottomless bank account. She didn’t enter a single designer fashion or jewellery outlet.

In the course of the week, however, Alana had made her presence known in Abu Dhabi without ever mentioning to anyone that she washiswife. She had been very discreet yet word of her solitary presence at his villa had still leaked out onto the local grapevine. In London, Ares had received two approaches from Arabic businessmen offering to send their wives and daughters to his wife’s aid to entertain her and offer their hospitality. That had made him gnash his teeth and he didn’t know why. He had politely refused the offers. Was it because he had felt guilty that he wasn’t there with her? Was it because she was clearly having a spectacularly good time without him? Whatever, he knew he would be relieved when she moved into Templegreen, and he no longer felt the need to constantly check up on her.

‘Your bride is working out very well,’ Edwin Graves pontificated at the end of that week over a private business lunch. ‘Apart from that initial hiccup with her health, she seems a perfect match to your requirements.’

‘Yes,’ Ares agreed between gritted teeth because he now knew that somewhere in that list of requirements, he had got something very badly wrong. Self-sufficient? Hadn’t he wanted a wife with that quality? Why was it that a quality that Alana clearly had in spades was now an irritant?

Was it because Alana was too young, too beautiful and too sexy? Was it because she had tempted him beyond belief and he had fallen at the first fence and destroyed all appropriate boundaries? Or was it because he had said goodbye to his mistress of several years’ standing as soon as he’d realised that Marina mysteriously no longer attracted him, and that had been quite a while before his wedding?

Ares was unsettled and restless for the first time in years and he hated it. He wanted his life back to normal. He wanted to stop thinking about sex all the time as well. His fake wife should have occupied only a tiny slice of his life, out of sight and out of mind as she should have been, yet instead she had hogged ninety per cent of his attention while she had been convalescing in Abu Dhabi.

Alana flipped the page in her sketchbook again. The robin outside the window hadmoved. Now she saw that, regardless, the lines weren’t right and that her bird outline was too static to be realistic and that drawing anything sooner than draw Ares’s sculpted features was not an effective escape from the dark thoughts that possessed her. Fizzing with frustration, she cast aside her sketch pad—regrettably full of incomplete charcoal drawings of Ares. She stood up and stretched, her slender figure lithe in the scarlet yoga pants and cropped top she wore, and honed by the gym activities and the running she had taken up since her arrival at Templegreen.

This was her new life, a life cocooned in luxury against a backdrop of grandeur far different from any she might have hoped would one day be hers. Templegreen was a Georgian mansion of extraordinary style and classic elegance. After her busy week of exploration in Abu Dhabi when she was bent on proving to Ares that his departure had meant nothing to her, she had arrived at his country house to be ushered into the palatial master bedroom like a queen and to dine every evening in solitary splendour in the grand dining room. Whatever, she was out of her depth and drowning. She was the lady of the house, who didn’t knowhowto be the lady of the house. The housekeeper visited her at the start of each week with a selection of menus. The estate manager came to her to ask if she had any special requests.

And if there was any special request she could have made it would have been for company, because the one thing Alana had not foreseen was how alone she would feel pretending to be Ares’s wife in a world that was so foreign to her, a world in which expense was unimportant and in which ease and idleness were taken for granted. She couldn’t ride the horses in her husband’s fancy stables. She had toyed with the idea of hiring a riding instructor but decided not to bother as her future was unlikely to include horses and the leisure time to ride them. There was no point getting too comfortable with a luxury lifestyle that was only temporary. Exercising, making use of the excellent gym facilities and the pool at Templegreen had seemed a sensible way to fill the empty hours.

Keeping relentlessly busy had also given her something else to focus on other than the fact that her period was late. She shivered, suddenly cold at that acknowledgement. After the way she had stopped her pill, it was hardly surprising that her menstrual cycle would be unsettled and she never had been regular, she reminded herself soothingly. If her cycle didn’t kick in soon, she would do a pregnancy test, indeed she already had one awaiting her in her bedroom. That she wasn’t making use of it immediately could be put down to her determination not to frighten herself into a panic. After all, she didn’t want to risk a false result by doing the test too soon.

Enzo, Skye and the children had visited for a day soon after her arrival. Once again Alana had had to resist the temptation of confiding in her sister. If she was in a mess right now, it was her own fault. Why would she stress Skye out with her anxieties? That would be selfish and unfair when she had made every decision that had put her in her current predicament without asking for her sister’s advice.

The sound of a helicopter sent her over to a tall window to peer out. Her shoulders hunched. She knew that she was only looking because the estate manager had mentioned that Ares only ever visited by helicopter and that he was overdue a visit. It made her wonder if the many properties Ares owned were only for investment as he didn’t seem to make much personal use of them. He ensured his various homes were kept in order but rarely went near them, it seemed. She had only picked up such little titbits listening to the staff talk. When the noise of the helicopter became louder rather than receding she went rigid, craning her neck for a better view, and she was just in time to see the unwieldy craft landing on the helipad.

Barely a split second later, a tall male vaulted out and she knew immediately that it washim. Only Ares moved with that feral, prowling, outrageously sexy grace, luxuriant silvery fair hair blowing in the breeze, broad shoulders squared, back straight as an arrow as he strode across the lawn, disdaining the path. Alana literally stopped breathing, smoothing down her exercise outfit and flushing in dismay and wishing that she had opted for something other than comfort when she had emerged from her early morning shower. At that thought, her chin came up at a mutinous angle. She was doing exactly what she had been paid to do, living in his home and keeping her head down. But wasn’t she also supposed to bebehavinglike a wife? On that thought, Alana sped out through the French doors and raced across the immaculate lawn to greet him.

Ares didn’t quite know what he had expected from Alana, but it had definitely not included Alana flinging herself at him in an enthusiastic welcome witnessed by all the household staff. He found himself with an armful of fragrant woman and she smelled of sunshine...and sex? No, no, that was his imagination, which was currently drowning in such base thoughts. Thoughts that ran on a continuous torturous loop inside his head.

‘Relax, Ares,’ Alana urged, soft and low, as the tension in his big powerful body thrummed into hers. ‘It wouldn’t look like much of a marriage if I didn’t make a fuss of you when we’ve been apart for weeks.’

Ares had to admit that she had a point. Wasn’t he visiting Templegreen for the same reason? And hadn’t he decided in his usual cool, logical way to straighten things out between them? There would be no room for passion or temptation once he told her a little about his background. She was a bright girl. She would quickly realise that no woman would want a future with a male like him. It wouldn’t hurt her feelings either, so, on his terms, that was a definite win-win when her co-operation was essential to his plans.

He eased her slowly down onto her own feet again, feeling the slight brush of her slender, curvy figure against his clothed length and hypersensitive to that awareness. Of the softness of her breasts, the brush of the slim thighs he had spread.Theos, he was hard as a rock. A long arm clamping to her spine, he walked her towards the house, his dark features rigid because he was determined to stay in control.

On the steps of the imposing entrance, his estate manager awaited him, only to be dismissed by him in a handful of words distinguished by a clipped-off, ‘Later.’

‘You should’ve let me know you were coming,’ Alana murmured flatly, stiff as a walking stick below that controlling arm.

‘It was a last-minute decision,’ Ares admitted. ‘I’ll be gone again soon enough.’

A stark pang of disillusionment cut through Alana and she hated herself for being so vulnerable. Coping with rejection was much harder than she had ever realised. Doing it with dignity was even tougher. She wanted to shrug and walk away and yet she couldn’t. That contract had deprived her of such face-saving displays. Behaving like a conventional wife with Ares was a huge challenge. She had no idea what Ares would do next. She had expected him to immediately take off with his estate manager, keen to escape her company, and hehadn’t, which only confused her more.

‘A light lunchnowwould be convenient,’ he informed his housekeeper as he walked past.

‘Did you give her advance warning of your visit?’ Alana asked.

‘No.’

‘Don’t you think that was inconsiderate?’ she asked soft and low.

‘No,’ Ares answered without hesitation. ‘I pay my staff three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, but I am only here a handful of days in that year. Expecting the kitchen to provide a light lunch on short notice should be a doddle.’

Alana swallowed hard, taking his point as he strode into the long gracious drawing room and offered her a drink. Mindful of her concern that she might be pregnant and paling at the prospect of that challenge with a male like Ares, who took nothing for chance, she asked for an orange juice.

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