The Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress(38)

Coldness wrapped around Chrysander’s chest, squeezing until he couldn’t draw a breath. “What are you saying?” he demanded.

She looked at him tiredly. “Why are you marrying me? Is it just because of the baby?”

He frowned, not liking the corner she was backing him into. “You’re tired and overwrought. We should go back in and continue this conversation where it’s warm—”

She cut him off with a furious hand. “I am not tired. I am not overwrought, and I want you to stop with the overprotective hovering. I don’t even buy that you’re that concerned, only that it’s a convenient barrier you can hide behind when I start asking questions.”

He opened his mouth to refute her words but then paused. He couldn’t very well deny it when it was true. Still, he had no desire for her to become distraught. Surely that couldn’t be good for the baby.

“What in my past am I so afraid of?” she whispered. “Last night terrified me. I woke this morning with a feeling of such fear, and not because I can’t remember, but because I’m afraid to remember.”

She stared earnestly at him, her eyes pleading.

“Tell me, Chrysander. I need to know. What were we like before? How did we meet? Were we very in love?”

He turned toward the water and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “You worked for me,” he said gruffly.

She moved beside him, not touching him. But she was close enough that he could feel the soft hiccups of her breaths.

“I did? At your hotel?”

He shook his head. “In the corporate offices. You were my assistant.”

She looked at him in shock. “But Roslyn is your assistant, and she seems awfully comfortable in that role. Like she’s been there for years.”

He offered a small smile. “You weren’t my assistant for long. I was too intent on having you in my bed. I convinced you to quit and move in with me. You were too much of a distraction for me at work.”

She didn’t look pleased by his statement. A worried frown worked over her face, and her lips turned down into a dissatisfied moue.

“So you’ve made it a practice to put me where it’s most convenient for you,” she murmured.

He cursed softly under his breath, but again, he couldn’t very well deny that he’d been intent on having his way when it came to her.

“And I allowed this?” she asked. “I just quit my job and moved in with you?”

He shrugged. “You seemed as happy to be with me as I was with you.”

She frowned harder and curled her hands protectively over her waist. “Was our baby planned?”

He drew in his breath. Here was an area he had to tread lightly. “I wouldn’t say planned, but your pregnancy certainly wasn’t unwelcome.”

If possible, she looked more miserable. She hunched her shoulders forward and turned away, but not before he saw the reemergence of tears.

He sighed and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “Why are you so sad this morning, pedhaki mou? What can I do or say to make you feel better?”

She glanced up at him, her eyes shining with moisture. “You can stop avoiding me. You can stop using concerns over my health and that of the baby as an excuse to treat me as an invalid. You can stop treating my past like it’s something I have no right to know.”

He pressed his lips tightly together. “I will try to be less conscientious of your…health, though I reserve the right to be concerned.”

She smiled then, and the relief that hit him almost caused him to stumble. He hadn’t realized just how much her happiness was important to him. Was he crazy to be so concerned when she’d had no regard for his happiness in the past?

She leaned up to kiss him, and he caught her against him, holding her possessively as he devoured her lips.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled back. “I just want…” She stopped, and longing flooded her eyes before she look away.

“What do you want, pedhaki mou?”

Her gaze flickered back to his. “I want us to be happy,” she said huskily. “I want to be sure of my place in your life. I want to remember, but more than that, I want to feel like I have more than just a small piece of you and your time.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. She’d never been so direct before her memory loss. She’d been shy and hesitant about voicing her wants and desires. But had she felt like this before? Had she resented his prolonged absences? The way he fit her into his life at his convenience? Was that why she’d lashed out? Had it been a bid to gain his attention?

“I want you to be happy, too, Marley. I want this very much. And while I can’t convince you of your place in my life with mere words, hopefully I can prove it to you over time.”