But she was one hundred per cent certain that, if such a situation had occurred hours before Rocco’s
honeymoon, he would have put Olivia first. At the very least he would have discussed the matter with
her and taken her input before making a decision.
The big difference was that Rocco loved Olivia. She was his world.
All Alessandra was to Christian was the vessel carrying his child, married to secure his heir and avert a
scandal. Love did not and never would feature in it, no matter what foolish feelings had been stoked on
her wedding day.
Against her better judgement she’d allowed hope to rear its head.
Sex was a dangerous game to play. It evoked feelings that had no business being conjured.
In future she would make love with her body and detach her mind. Somehow. She was certain it could
be done. Lots of other women were able to do it so why should she be any different?
The vows she’d made had been given honestly but for the sake of the little life growing in her belly, not
for herself.
It would be wise for her to remember that and stop letting her hormones off the leash.
Christian followed her out of the car and walked her to the large front door, the driver tasked with
bringing her luggage in.
A woman who Alessandra judged to be in her mid-forties opened the door to greet them. Christian
introduced her as Evanthia, his head of housekeeping.
Evanthia took Alessandra’s extended hand, uttered a friendly greeting in Greek then stood back so
they could enter.
The interior was every bit what the average person would expect a bachelor billionaire’s home to look
like: lavish. Ostentatious. Cold. All vaulted ceilings, white walls and lots of marble.
The reception area where they stood led through to an enormous open-plan living space. While she
stood at the threshold, craning her neck to take it all in, Christian and Evanthia had a quick
conversation.
‘I need to go,’ he said to Alessandra a few moments later. ‘Evanthia will show you around and show
you where your room is.’
‘Where my room is?’ she interrupted, snapped out of her musings about his interior decoration.
He nodded. ‘If you’re not happy with it then let Evanthia know and she can move you to a different one.’
‘Oh.’
He looked at her with calm eyes. ‘Is there a problem?’
She forced her own eyes to be bright and wide. ‘Not at all.’
‘Then make yourself comfortable—this is your home now. It is doubtful I will be back before the evening
but you have my number if you need me for anything.’
With that he left, leaving Alessandra feeling as if a rug had been pulled out from under her.
They were to have separate rooms.
That meant they would be sleeping in separate beds.
Her reality check that morning when he’d cancelled their short honeymoon hadn’t been a reality check
enough.
The talking-to about having sex with her body and not her heart now sounded presumptuous and silly,
even if she’d only been talking to herself.
Silly, silly Alessandra. When would she learn?
She placed a hand to her stomach, refusing to let the swell of hopelessness pull her down.
Evanthia said something in Greek, beckoning for Alessandra to follow her.
Time to pull herself together.
All her love would be reserved for her baby.
With many gestures, Evanthia gave her the tour: the huge living area with its ‘hidden’ library, a bar
nestled in a cut-out section of wall and a dining area with a table that could fit two dozen comfortably.
She was also shown the enormous kitchen, the indoor swimming pool and the gymnasium that would
put any private member’s club to shame. Through a back door she was shown two outdoor swimming
pools and a lawn tennis court, then it was time to head upstairs. They climbed one of three sets of
winding stairs and walked along a landing that overlooked the living area, a four-foot-high length of
impossibly clear Perspex barrier there to stop anyone plunging headfirst to the first floor.
Her room was at the far end of the landing. Her luggage had been placed inside.
‘Clothes,’ Evanthia said, pointing at an internal door. Alessandra opened the door to find a dressing
room.
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