The Billionaire's Pregnant Mistress

His tender expression turned to stone and he stood up quickly from the sofa. “There are plans to be made. I want to be married a week from today.”

“So quickly? What about my dress, the church—”

“I will take care of it.”

She didn’t argue. She supposed a billionaire could pull together a wedding on nothing notice. Money talked, or so they said. “I’m picking out my own dress.”

He shrugged. “As you like.”

He turned toward the phone, all signs of his loverlike countenance gone.

“Dimitri?”

He pivoted to face her. “Yes?”

“This is what you want?”

He laughed harshly. “I am getting what I deserve and can expect nothing more.”

“But I thought you wanted to get married.” Had she completely misread the situation? The one hope she clung to was the knowledge that he wanted her. Had last night satisfied that craving?

“I do.” His eyes blazed certainty at her.

“But you seem unhappy now that I’ve said yes.”

He came back and pulled her up and into his arms. “I am not unhappy, pethi mou. I am merely preoccupied with the details of the wedding now that you have agreed.”

It made sense and she had no fears while his arms were around her. She yawned. “All right.”

He turned her toward the bedroom and patted her bottom gently. “Take a nap. Pregnant ladies need their rest.”

She went, feeling comforted. He’d pointed her in the direction of his bedroom. It was only later, while she hung on the verge of sleep that she realized he had once again sidestepped the issue of his parents.

Dimitri gripped the phone tightly without dialing. What had he expected, that she would say she was marrying him because she wanted to? At least she had agreed. He should not bemoan the fact it had been for the child’s sake alone.

He would convince her to trust him again. He would show her that what they had had in Paris could be theirs again. The affection. The fun. The rapport. And once she saw that he would never dismiss her so cruelly again, she would once again glow in his presence.

At least he’d kept this promise to his grandfather.

“You are nervous, yineka mou. Why?”

Alexandra shifted the yards of fabric in her wedding dress’s skirt an inch to the left on the limousine’s seat. “There are going to be a lot people at the reception.”

Which was an understatement. Dimitri had managed to invite an obscene number of wedding guests, all of whom would be staying for the reception…including Dimitri’s brother, Spiros, and his wife Phoebe.

“You have modeled swimwear in front of a bigger crowd.”

True. But the crowd had never included Dimitri’s ex-fiancée and brother. “Does Spiros think I’m an awful tramp?”

Dimitri reeled as if she’d struck him and his eyes burned angry blue fire. “Why should you think this? Do you feel like this marriage has made you one?”

She wondered how Dimitri managed the Petronides Corporation so effectively with his lousy communication skills. “Of course I don’t feel like a tramp because I married you. It’s just that your brother’s read those awful articles. I’m sure he blames me for Phoebe’s humiliation.”

“My brother does not blame you.”

She waved Dimitri’s words aside. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who else would he blame? I was the other woman even if I didn’t know it. He had to marry Phoebe to save the family honor. I bet he hates me,” she wailed.

Dimitri pulled her onto his lap, yards of white satin and all. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “My brother does not blame you. He knows you were unaware of Phoebe’s existence. He knows where the real blame lies. With me.”

“But he’s your brother. He’s bound to forgive you.” Look how many times she forgave Mama. “He’s free to hate me.” Dimitri laughed. He actually laughed and she wanted to sock him. “It’s not funny. Your family’s got no choice but to think you’ve married some kind of opportunist, five months pregnant with your baby and they’ve never met me.”

“Spiros and my grandfather know this too is my fault. Do not worry, Alexandra. Spiros is content in his marriage and excited at the prospect of being an uncle. You made both things possible. He will adore you.”

She would have continued her lament, but the limousine slid to a smooth stop and seconds later the door opened. Dimitri lifted her in his arms.

She squealed. “You’re supposed to carry me over the threshold, not to the reception!”

He laughed, a true Dimitri laugh that she hadn’t heard since before their breakup in Paris. “I can do both.”

She wasn’t about to spoil that smile, so she demurred. He carried her all the way to the hotel ballroom where the reception was being held. A loud cheer went up when they came into the room and the next hour was spent accepting well wishes from their wedding guests.

Alexandra rested in one of the many Queen Anne style armchairs set in small groupings around the perimeter of the ballroom. Space had been left in the center of the floor for dancing. She was looking forward to being in Dimitri’s arms.

“I guess he’s not such a swine after all.”

Alexandra smiled as her sister took the chair closest to her. “Hi, Maddy. Isn’t this fabulous?” she asked, waving her hand to encompass the reception and its elegant guests. She was feeling incredibly happy for a woman who had just entered a marriage of convenience. It was all Dimitri’s doing. “Can you believe the wedding?”

Madeleine grinned. “Believe it? I lived it. I was your matron of honor, after all. The horse drawn carriages were a very sweet touch. There were so many red and white poinsettias and that gorgeous Christmas greenery in the church, you couldn’t see the pews.”

“He did everything possible to make it special. He kept asking if there was anything else I wanted all week long, making sure my every fantasy of my wedding was fulfilled.”

“And why should it not be?” Dimitri asked from behind her. He came to her side and rested his hand on the skin of her shoulder bared by the dropped shoulder neckline of her wedding dress. “You will only marry once. It should be the wedding of your dreams.”

She tilted her head to smile up at him. “It has been.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “I am glad, yineka mou. That was my only wish.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d say he sounded like a man in love. Even if he wasn’t, he had to care about her a lot to have gone to so much trouble to see her happy.

“Making calf’s eyes at each other again?” A man who could have been Dimitri’s twin, but for his obvious younger age and dark brown eyes, slapped Dimitri on the back. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Dimitri’s hand on her shoulder tightened briefly in a reassuring gesture as if he could sense her unease.

“I do not make calf’s eyes,” he informed his brother.

Spiros smiled mockingly. “If you say so.”

Phoebe, a beautiful woman with classic Greek features and an air of youthful innocence, laughed. “Do not tease your brother. A man is allowed to look pleased with his bride on his wedding day.”

Remembering the picture she’d seen of Spiros and Phoebe’s wedding day, Alexandra thought Phoebe must be intimately acquainted with the concept and said so.

Phoebe blushed sweetly while Spiros put his arm around her shoulder in a possessive manner. “This is true,” he said.

Alexandra smiled. At least her pregnancy hadn’t ruined their lives. They were obviously very happy to be married to each other. She couldn’t help wondering what the Petronides family had been thinking to match a girl of Phoebe’s gentle nature and obvious youth with an overwhelming man like Dimitri in the first place.

“It’s not just reserved for the wedding day, you know. I’m still making calf’s eyes at my wife,” Hunter said as he joined the group, taking the chair closest to Madeleine.

Madeleine’s air of complacent acceptance of such an accolade indicated whatever contretemps Alexandra’s problems had caused in their marriage was well and truly over.

Alexandra looked up at Dimitri. She was not at all convinced he’d been looking at her with anything near the adoring glance her brother-in-law bestowed upon her sister. However, she was willing to tease him regardless. “So I can look forward to years of bovine expressions of affection?”

He stiffened with affront just as she’d expected him to do. “I am not a cow.”

She smiled, feeling mischievous. “No indeed. If anything, you must be likened to a bull.” She rubbed her protruding middle and felt their son move. “I would say that he is proof positive you are a male capable of breeding.”