The Sheikh's Pregnant Lover (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid 1) - Page 5

“Good,” he said, giving a commanding nod to the knot of bodyguards. “Then you’ll be ready for all I’ve planned.”

* * *

Hannah lifted her face toward the sun as the boat rocked gently beneath her, carrying all of them toward the main island of Venice. Even the daylight seemed rich, sitting next to Kyril, his security arranged around them. She ached to inch closer, but no—better to keep a little distance until they could really talk. The motor of the boat, blending with the rush of the wind, made speaking impossible. Even if it hadn’t, the sights would have taken her breath away.

St. Mark’s Square, growing larger in the distance. The sun glittering on the sweeping water of the canals. And Kyril’s muscled forearms, dark beneath his flawlessly rolled sleeves. His shirt was a pure white. So it begins. Hannah thought she’d had a month of freedom left, but the time fled in those snatches of sleep on the train, while she wasn’t paying attention.

Landfall.

The wide dock, ringed with freshly painted rails, welcomed them to the ancient city on the canals, and Hannah’s breath caught. The earth-toned buildings in reds and yellows hummed with adventure. She could lose herself in the narrow streets, exploring for hours.

But there was Kyril, with a determined smile. He glanced down at the curve of her belly underneath a dark blue sundress. “We should talk.” It wasn’t a question.

Hannah shifted her weight from side to side, and the heat spreading across her chest felt uncomfortably like a sunburn. “We could go to my hotel.” She raised a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “It’s close by, I think.”

“No need to worry about a hotel.” Kyril’s smile grew even more brilliant. “If it’s a hotel you want, I have just the place.”

* * *

She’d never seen such an opulent room.

When Hannah had met Kyril in Al-Dashalid, they’d stayed in royal properties away from the palace. This hotel room, overlooking the Grand Canal, was at least as stunning.

“This is where you’re staying?”

It was a stupid question, but she couldn’t help it. The dark furniture, polished to a high shine, was somehow delicate and imposing all at once. The bed linens were meticulously folded, and the crystal glasses on the water stand winked in the sun.

“We’re staying here,” Kyril said easily, and for once, she was too speechless to argue. How could she, with the canal below, the buildings beckoning her from the other side, and the most beautiful man on the planet settling into a small sofa behind her? Kyril had even arranged for her small suitcase to be delivered from her former hotel. It was perched next to one of the bedroom doors.

“You’re right.” She turned away from the wide windows and faced Kyril. He nodded to a matching sofa facing the one he sat on, looking every bit a king, and Hannah flushed with nerves. “We should talk.” She eased herself onto the other sofa and willed herself to meet his eyes.

What was she going to open with? I need time to travel, and I’ve put a lot of thought into each destination. Right. That was it.

But Kyril spoke first.

“We need to get married.”

* * *

“What—” Hannah lost the thread of her sentence. Words whirled through her mind, none of them settling on the tip of her tongue. “You—we—” What was this? Baby brain? Complete shock? There was no way he’d just proposed. And so bluntly, as if it was a given.

Kyril leaned forward, dark gaze burning into hers. “You haven’t said. How is the baby? Is everything proceeding smoothly?”

“Y—yes.” This topic felt firm under her feet, like the dock after the back and forth sway of the boat. “I’m about three months along. Obviously.” Color rushed to her cheeks. “Our timing was—”

“Impeccable.” He was so confident, so unfazed. “I’m relieved to have found you. You shouldn’t be running around Europe alone—not in your condition. And unmarried at that.”

Married? What did marriage have to do with any of it? Of course he was the father, but—

The realization that he planned to marry her—and soon—crashed into her like an ocean storm.

He pressed his palms together in front of him. “It’s a perfect fit, Hannah. That’s my view.”

“What’s a perfect fit?” This baby—this unexpected life growing in her belly—seemed more of an earthquake than a puzzle piece sliding into place.

“You.” His eyes followed the lines of her f

ace. “The child. Our marriage will untie many knots.”

Tags: Leslie North Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Billionaire Romance
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