Page 9 of The Maid's Pregnancy Bombshell

‘Very much so,’ Alana declared, perspiration marking her short upper lip now that the worst was over and the act of sharing that marital announcement was achieved.

‘And obviously you’re attracted to him—’

‘Obviously.’

‘With Ares, you’re talking about the ultimate serious, steady male,’ Enzo commented in a clear effort to soothe his wife’s concerns. ‘Never a hint of a scandal about him, definitelynota Casanova with women—’

‘Well, if he protects his privacy with NDAs there wouldn’t be,’ Skye chimed in, less impressed than Alana had hoped she would be by that accolade.

‘I like him, I respect him and I trust him,’ Alana heard herself say in a sudden rush. ‘But you can’t ever tell anyone that I said that about him!’

And her tiny sister, several inches below Alana in height, burst out laughing at that admission.

‘OK, kid sister. I’ll trust you to know what’s best for you thisonetime, but the moment you doubt this decision or need help, we’re here for you,’ Skye proclaimed, gathering Alana into a warm, reassuring hug, and all Alana’s fears that she might damage her ties to her family by marrying Ares drained away at that same moment.

The next morning, Ares glanced at Alana’s delicate profile in the helicopter, noting the tense set of her soft pink lips and edgily recognising her nervous tension. She had signed the contract. Everything was organised, nothing left to go wrong. But any woman could get cold feet about marrying, couldn’t she? Furthermore, plans made for his original bride candidate, Verena Coleman, were not a good fit for Alana Davison. At least, in Ares’s opinion, if not in his legal team’s opinion. They had seemed almost bewildered by his attitude when he’d pointed out the many differences.

How could he possibly dump Alana in an unfamiliar city, expect her to buy a suitable wardrobe for herself and live alone in an apartment? Had she ever lived alone? Thanks to that background check, he knew that she had not. He didn’t think her time spent as a maid living in hotel accommodation worth considering. Leaving Alana without family in London would be like dumping one of the babes in wood straight into the witch’s cottage, he reflected with deep unease. His chief lawyer, Edwin, might believe that it was acceptable to treat Alana the same way as Verena, but Ares saw such assumptions as belonging under the heading of ‘expecting too much’. Alana was years younger, less experienced, less confident, less an awful lot of things, he framed in his own quick and clever brain.

Naturally there would besomedrawbacks to his choice of Alana as a fake wife and this was one of them. He would need to make more allowances until they reached the married phase and he let her sink or swim on her own. For now, he had to be supportive to ensure the success of their pretenceaftertheir marriage, he reasoned, and he relaxed at that conviction because that made perfect good sense to him. That also fully explained to his own satisfaction why he had been stressing out—something heneverdid—about leaving her and returning to his usual routine.

‘We’re going shopping...together?’ Alana surveyed Ares in astonishment as they walked at a fast rate of knots through the London airport, shielded on all sides by his security team. ‘But I thought we weren’t going to doanythingtogether—’

‘Do you know what kind of clothes you need to choose? Do you even know what wealthy women wear at formal occasions?’

Alana winced. ‘Well, no, but—’

‘That’s why you need my assistance,’ Ares decreed calmly, satisfied that all his concerns during the flight were now proven.

‘But why would I need clothes for formal occasions when you’re not planning to take me out anywhere with you?’ Alana asked in a hesitant tone, because she had already discovered that Ares seemed to have a definitive answer for absolutely every question.

‘There’s a benefit in Athens being held by my charitable foundation in a couple of months. I have decided that for the purpose of authenticity we should make at least one public appearance together.’

‘I understand,’ Alana declared although, in truth, she didn’t. What she had originally understood was that Ares was planning to leave her in some city apartment where she was to concentrate on kitting herself out as a credible Sarris bride at his expense. It was true though that she wouldn’t have had a clue what sort of clothing to buy. The life she had lived until now had not included any need for formal apparel.

Barely more than an hour and a half later, Alana found herself modelling a floral dress and jacket that she believed would do very well for the civil wedding. She and Ares had contrived in the politest and chilliest of terms to fight quite a bit over her clothes selections. Unopposed, Ares would have shoved her into fashion far too old and staid for her tastes. She suspected that Ares socialised with women around a decade older than she was, for that classic tailored look was rarely what the average young woman in her early twenties sought.

Initially seated with Ares in the opulent private viewing room while svelte models strolled out in front of them on the little catwalk to show off garments, Alana had had a couple of glasses of the complimentary champagne brought to them. She could feel that faint buzz in her bloodstream and it made her feel a little more daring than normal as she strutted out on the catwalk in her bright dress, doffing the jacket like a professional and whirling round to let the skirt flip out round her slender legs. Ares stared at her as though he were transfixed, those stunning eyes of his amber gold as a predatory jungle cat’s aglow below the lights.

‘You have the most amazing eyes,’ Alana told him chattily from the very edge of the catwalk, which was the closest she could get to him without stepping down to his level and in the very high heels she wore she didn’t trust her balance.

Ares canted up a satirical black brow, cool as ice, not even a hint of a smile, and Alana just laughed.

‘What?’ Ares queried levelly while he thought that in all his life he had never seen a more gorgeous woman than Alana inthatdress. He had insisted that it was too flamboyant and too short when she first showed it to him. Although he had not withheld his strong opinions, she had pretty much ignored his advice, which had disconcerted him. Yet in the flesh, clad in that dress she reminded him of a glorious bouquet of tropical flowers and she did have the most stupendous legs to show off. The golden sheet of her hair had fallen untidily round her flushed face when she twirled, lighting up green eyes like stars and a rosy pillowy mouth that was almost more temptation than he could withstand in that instant.

‘I know we’re having a register office do with no frills,’ Alana continued. ‘But this looks kind of bridal in a verysmallway.’ As she held up her hand and two fingers measured the very tininess of that bridal element to minimise it for his sensitive benefit, she lurched at the edge of the catwalk and, before she could fall and hurt herself, Ares lunged up out of his seat and caught her in mid-air.

‘How the heck did you move that fast?’ Alana gasped in amazement. ‘I mean, you were in your seat and then you grabbed me—’

‘I saved you from tripping,’ Ares slotted in a touch raggedly, endeavouring to make his arms lower to put her down on her feet, but that amount of help wasn’t happening when his gaze was locked to hers. Not when the desire he saw in her eyes was the exact same as the lusty pulse roaring through his big, powerful body. He knew he shouldn’t touch her. He knew he should put her down...but hedidn’t.

‘Just do it,’ she said simply, and he knew he shouldn’t be listening either but when she tilted her head back a little and her velvety soft lips parted in clear invitation, any logic and restraint Ares retained simply tanked. He bent his head, and he kissed her. He took his time about it too. If there was only ever likely to be one single kiss, he fully intended to make a meal of the experience.

Ares had looked at her as though she could walk on water. Alana loved it. No man had ever looked at her like that, as though she were beautiful, special, and insanely sexy. Her heart was hammering so hard at the strength of the arms holding her against his lean, muscular frame that she could hardly breathe. He was so strong, so fast on his feet, so totally amazing when his stunning dark golden eyes held hers fast. Just at the moment when she was afraid her heart would pound the whole way out of her chest, he brought his mouth down on hers and steadied his hold on her, moving somewhere. Right at that point, she didn’t care where he was moving, only that he did what every greedy cell in her body demanded and kissed her.

Ares sat back down in his seat and kissed her. She tasted so good, it blew his mind. He didn’t usually kiss women. It was too intimate, too romantic, too personal. He did everything else but he didn’t kiss, a little private quirk, he had often smoothly excused himself when taxed with that aversion. But when he cradled her cheekbones and held Alana imprisoned in his arms on his lap, Ares was for once unruffled by breaking his own code of rules. There were so many rules in Ares’s life. He dideverythingaccording to the rules. He kept himself safe that way. He protected his assets that way. He ensured that he would never ever be vulnerable to another person again.

He knew how to kiss, he knew how to kiss so well that at first contact with the hard brush of his lips across hers Alana’s head spun as though she were on a merry-go-round. It was incredibly, smoulderingly sexy when his lips gently, firmly parted hers and his tongue invaded with precision, sending a shower of fireworks cascading wildly through her body and lightening up pulse points she had never felt before. In fact, she had never felt sexual hunger like it, so it was an enormous shock when Ares, without the smallest warning, brought that kiss to an abrupt end. He dragged his mouth from hers, flipped her upright and stood her between his spread thighs as if she were a doll.

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