At the Tycoon's Service. Maya Banks
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Chapter Nine
The Tycoon’s Pregnant Mistress
Maya Banks
To Marty Matthews and Shara Cooper. That bar conversation at RT 2007 was the first kick in the behind to do something about my long-standing dream of writing for Desire™. I still remember that gush-fest fondly.
To Roberta, for saying, “Let’s do it” when I outlined my career goals in the summer of 2007. Hey, we did it!
To Amy: You of all people know how much I love category and just how excited I was to be given a chance to write it. Thanks for being just as thrilled as I was.
To Dee, who I think wanted this for me as much as I did and was with me every step of the way. Thank you!
And finally to Steph, who started it all for me. Without you, I wouldn’t have written The Tycoon’s Pregnant Mistress and I wouldn’t have submitted. It was that phone call that started everything in motion. I’ll always love you for that.
Pregnant.
Despite the warmth of the summer day, an uncomfortable chill settled over Marley Jameson’s skin as she settled on the bench in the small garden just a few blocks from the apartment she shared with Chrysander Anetakis.
She shivered even as the sun’s rays found her tightly clenched fingers, the heat not yet chasing away the goose bumps. Stavros wouldn’t be happy over her brief disappearance. Neither would Chrysander when Stavros reported that she hadn’t taken proper security measures. But dragging along the imposing guard to her doctor’s appointment hadn’t been an option. Chrysander would have known of her pregnancy before she could even return home to tell him herself.
How would he react to the news? Despite the fact they’d taken precautions, she was eight weeks pregnant. The best she could surmise, it had happened when he’d returned from an extended business trip overseas. Chrysander had been insatiable. But then so had she.
A bright blush chased the chill from her cheeks as she remembered the night in question. He had made love to her countless times, murmuring to her in Greek—warm, soft words that had made her heart twist.
She checked her watch and grimaced. He was due home in a few short hours, and yet here she sat like a coward, avoiding the confrontation. She still had to change out of the faded jeans and T-shirt, clothes she wore only when he was away.
With reluctance born of uncertainty, she forced herself to her feet and began the short walk to the luxurious building that housed Chrysander’s apartment.
“You’re being silly,” she muttered under her breath as she neared the entry. If the doorman was surprised to see her on foot, he didn’t show it, though he did hasten to usher her inside.
She stepped onto the lift and smoothed a hand over her still-flat stomach. Nervousness scuttled through her chest as she rode higher. When it halted smoothly and the doors opened into the spacious foyer of the penthouse, Marley nibbled on her lip and left the elevator.
She walked into the living room, shedding her shoes as she made her way to the couch, where she tossed her bag down. Fatigue niggled at her muscles, and all she really wanted to do was lie down. But she had to determine how to broach