His Contract Christmas Bride / Confessions Of A Pregnant Cinderella

And that was what she needed to remember. The one fact which should never be far from her mind. That she would never have seen Drakon Konstantinou again if his brother and sister-in-law hadn’t decided to go on a narcotic-fuelled bender and leave their baby son with no parents.

‘Did Xander have any other relatives?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Apart from his mother?’

He shook his head. ‘I put an investigator on the case. Niko’s wife was adopted as a baby, but had been estranged from her family for many years. There were no living blood relatives, so Xander will have no connection with the past.’ His expression grew shuttered. ‘And it will be better for him in the long run. Much better.’

‘In your opinion.’

‘It’s my opinion which counts,’ he said cuttingly. ‘And what I say goes. And I’d rather my adoptive son wasn’t in the grip of people I don’t know. People who might influence him to follow the same sorry path as his parents.’

Feeling faint, Lucy gripped the stem of her champagne flute, but she didn’t lift it to her lips. She was afraid that her hands would tremble too much and she would spill it all over the perfectly starched tablecloth. Because it wasn’t just the things Drakon had said which freaked her out, but the way he’d said them. He’d sounded so... ruthless. As if you could take the parts of somebody’s life which you didn’t like and simply wipe them out—like airbrushing a photo or altering something on your camera phone. But if he’d sounded ruthless it was because he was, she reminded herself. She should forget that at her peril. Suddenly she was glad that she was going to be there for baby Xander. Glad she would be able to fight his corner, because surely he needed someone there for him when Drakon started being even more high-handed than usual.

Eventually she felt calm enough to take a sip of wine, which eased some of her tension, and beneath the table she stretched out her legs, her new pointy shoes touching what she thought was the leg of the table, but Drakon’s mocking eyes informed her that she’d made direct contact with his calf. Hastily, she jerked her foot away and his gaze grew more thoughtful.

‘So why don’t you like surprises?’ he asked suddenly.

It was a question she hadn’t been expecting, and if she hadn’t been so blindsided by everything which had happened in the last twenty-four hours Lucy might have glossed over it—because why revisit pain when you didn’t have to? But Drakon seemed to have an uncanny knack of getting her to open up. He’d done it on the night of the school reunion and he was doing it again now. She wondered if it was because he’d known her so long ago, in those days when she’d had a mother and a brother and hadn’t been such a lost soul. And surely if they were planning on spending the rest of their lives together, he needed to know some of the things which made her tick. Only some of them, mind. A twist of guilt seared her heart and she stared down at her fingernails before looking up to meet the searching gleam of his eyes. ‘I guess I just associate surprises with unpleasant things.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘Oh, you know.’ She shrugged her shoulders restlessly. ‘All the stuff which comes with having family in the military. The heavy knock at the door, or the ring of the telephone late at night. The men in uniform who stand on your doorstep with grim faces as they prepare to give you the news.’ News which rocked the foundations of your world and made you realise nothing was ever going to be the same again. Yet hadn’t it been those experiences that had provided the lessons which had enabled Lucy to ring-fence her emotions and keep herself safe from pain? Which had forced her to build barriers around her heart so she could never be hurt like that again? She folded her lips together. Wasn’t that one of the good things about agreeing to marry a man like Drakon—that he had spelt out he didn’t do love either? He had his own emotional barriers in place and that made them equal in a totally unexpected way. He could never hurt her because she would never let him get that close.

And the bottom line was that he didn’t want to get close.

‘That must have been tough,’ he observed.

‘Life is tough, Drakon—as I’m sure Xander would tell us if he were able to speak.’

He nodded, his eyes still searching her face, as if he was seeing something he hadn’t noticed before. ‘I don’t want any more children,’ he said suddenly.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘More kids.’ His voice was rough. ‘One is my limit and if you want more—’

‘I don’t,’ she said quickly, as relief washed over her. ‘I think children should only ever be conceived in love and we’ve both agreed that isn’t what is driving this marriage of ours.’

His nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. ‘There’s something else we haven’t addressed,’ he said softly.

Her brow creased. ‘Which is?’

‘The ring.’

‘The ring?’ she repeated.

‘An engagement ring. It’s fairly traditional in most cultures, as far as I’m aware. Surely you must have been expecting one, Lucy? I thought all women had preferences about what kind of jewels they’d like in this situation.’

‘No, Drakon, all women do not—at least, not those of us who live relatively normal lives. I have better things to do with my time than drool about diamonds.’ Recklessly, she took another mouthful of champagne—a much bigger one this time—which really went to her head. Serves you right, she thought dazedly as she carefully replaced the glass on the table. ‘I’m astonished you didn’t ask your partner, Amy, to select one for me as she did my clothes,’ she said, in an acid tone she’d never heard herself use before. ‘Or maybe she already has?’

He shook his head. ‘The answer is no on both counts. She couldn’t have done even if I wanted her to because she’s flown out to Singapore on business.’

‘Gosh. How will you be able to manage without her?’ she questioned, the lingering effects of the wine still evident in her unusually flippant tone.

‘Amy’s absence certainly makes me realise how hard she works.’ Almost carelessly, he slid a small box across the table. ‘I bought this for you myself, so if you don’t like it you’re at liberty to change it.’ As Lucy continued to stare at it, he lowered his voice into a murmured command. ‘Stop looking at it as though it were an unexploded bomb. Open it.’

With faltering fingers she did just that, and it was a measure of just how glitzy the world in which she now found herself that Lucy realised she was expecting to see a whacking great diamond, or an emerald the size of a gull’s egg. Because wasn’t that what billionaires usually bought for their future brides, especially if it was an arranged marriage? Some huge chunk of glittering gemstone which would be way too big for her finger and look like paste on someone so unremittingly ordinary.

But as she flipped open the box to reveal a ring, it was to discover that Drakon had surprised her and in a way she almost wished he hadn’t, because it made her feel quite breathless. Set in embellished gold was a square-cut sapphire the indefinable colour of a spot of ink dropped into a beaker of water, which glittered in the pale winter light that streamed in through the windows. It was delicate, unusual and beautiful. The most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

‘What made you choose this?’ she questioned shakily.

He shrugged. ‘The jeweller asked me what colour your eyes were.’

Lucy’s heart raced and a strange, restrictive dryness in her throat made it difficult for her to speak as for one split second she allowed herself to sink into a fantasy of longing. ‘And you remembered?’

‘It’s hardly neuroscience, Lucy. I only saw you a couple of days ago.’ His slightly impatient look was followed by a dismissive shake of his head as he picked up his menu. ‘Come on. Let’s order. I have a meeting this afternoon.’

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