Modern Romance Collection: July 2017 Books 1 - 4. Sharon Kendrick

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soon become his wife. ‘Because I want you to look like my wife from now on.’ His eyes had glittered like blue ice as he had spoken. ‘Not some little supermarket stacker who just happens to be wearing my ring.’

      His remark had riled her and she’d been tempted to wear her oldest clothes all the time and see how he liked that. Would such defiance make him eager to be rid of her and thus grant her the freedom she craved? But then she thought about her baby...and the fact that she was soon going to be a mother. Did she really want to be seen pushing her buggy around the fancy places which Ariston frequented, wearing clothes which had come from the thrift shop? Wouldn’t that whittle away at her confidence even more?

      But the disturbing thing was that once she’d started, she’d found it surprisingly easy to spend her billionaire fiancé’s money. Perhaps there was more of her mother in her than she’d thought. Or maybe she’d just forgotten the lure of wealth and how it could make people do unpredictable things. During her childhood when they’d been flush, money had trickled through her mother’s fingers like sand and sometimes, if she’d been feeling especially benevolent, she had spent some of it on her only child. But her gifts had always failed spectacularly. Keeley had been given impractical frilly dresses which had made her stand out from the other little girls in their dungarees. There had been those frivolous suede shoes, ruined by their first meeting with a puddle—and ribbons which had made her look like some throwback to an earlier age. No wonder she’d grown up to be such a tomboy.

      But she took to her new credit card like a duck to water, shopping for her imminent role as Ariston’s wife with enthusiasm and allowing herself to be influenced by the friendly stylist who had been assigned to her by the fancy department store. She bought new clothes chosen specially to accommodate her growing frame, as well as new underwear, shoes and handbags. And didn’t she enjoy the feeling of silk and cashmere brushing against her skin instead of the scratchy qualities of the man-made fabrics she’d worn up till then? She told herself she was only doing what she’d been instructed to do, but the speculative rise of Ariston’s dark eyebrows when his driver had staggered into the City apartment under the weight of all those shiny shopping bags had left her feeling...uncomfortable. As if she’d just affirmed some of his deeply held prejudices about women.

      But money was liberating, she realised. It gave her choices which had previously been lacking in her life and that newfound sense of liberation encouraged her to buy the scarlet silk dress and matching shoes, secretly enjoying the stylist’s shocked reaction when she explained it was for her wedding day.

      ‘You’re some kind of scarlet woman, are you?’ the woman had joked drily.

      And now, at the small but glittering reception, Keeley realised that Ariston’s hold on her had changed and he was pushing her away by a fraction so his gaze could rake over her, those smouldering blue eyes taking in every centimetre of the scarlet silk which was clinging to her curves.

      ‘Spectacular,’ he murmured. ‘Quite...spectacular.’

      She felt exposed—almost naked—which hadn’t been her intention at all. She felt aroused, too—and surely that was even more dangerous. She tilted her chin defiantly, trying to swamp the sudden rush of desire which was making her skin grow heated and her nipples hard. ‘So you approve of my wedding dress?’

      ‘How could I not approve? It would have been entirely inappropriate for such an obviously pregnant wife to wear virginal white.’ He gave a slow smile. ‘Yet despite your unconventional colour choice and what I suspect was your intention to rile me, let me tell you that you really do make a ravishing bride, Keeley. Glowing, young and intensely fecund.’

      ‘I’ll... I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she stumbled, the tone of his voice making her momentarily breathless.

      ‘That’s what it was intended to be.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘So how are you feeling, wife?’

      Keeley wasn’t quite sure how to answer, because the truth was complex—and strange. For the first time in her life she actually felt safe—and cosseted. She realised that Ariston would never let anyone harm her. That he would use his strength to protect her, no matter what. But he wasn’t doing it for her, she reminded herself. He was doing it because she was carrying the most precious of cargoes, and as custodian of his unborn child she merited his care and attention. That was why he was suddenly being so considerate—and if she read anything more into it than that, then she would be embarking down a very perilous road.

      ‘I’m a little tired,’ she admitted. ‘It’s been a long day and I wasn’t expecting it to be such...such an occasion.’

      He frowned. ‘You want to skip the meal and go home?’

      ‘How can I? It wouldn’t look very good if the bride didn’t turn up for her own wedding breakfast.’

      ‘You think I care?’ He reached out to stroke his fingertips beneath her eyes. ‘Your welfare supersedes everything.’

      ‘No, honestly. I’m fine.’ The touch of his fingers was doing crazy things to her heart and as she noticed Megan hovering close by with a camera phone pointed in their direction, something made her want to maintain the whole myth of this marriage. Was it pride? She forced a smile as the phone flashed. ‘Let’s join the others,’ she said. ‘Besides, I’m hungry.’

      But Keeley’s reluctance to leave the reception wasn’t just about hunger. She was dreading returning to Ariston’s gleaming apartment as man and wife and not just because she’d found its vast and very masculine interior intimidating. She had been staying at the famous Granchester Hotel while all the necessary pre-wedding paperwork was completed, because Ariston had insisted that they would only share a home as man and wife. Which seemed slightly bizarre since her rapidly increasing girth made a mockery of such old-fashioned sensibilities. But at least it had given her some breathing space and the chance to get used to her new life without Ariston’s distracting presence. She knew she couldn’t keep putting off living with him but now the moment of reckoning was approaching, she was terrified. Terrified about sharing an apartment with him and unsure how she would cope. At times she felt more like a child than a grown woman who would soon have a child of her own. Was that normal? she wondered.

      But she pushed her reservations aside as she sat down to the Greek feast which had been provided by the hotel and it was a relief to be able to eat after what seemed like weeks of sickness. She could feel her strength returning as she worked her way through the delicious salads, though she could manage only half of one of the rich baklava cakes which were produced at the end of the meal. Despite the relatively small guest list, it somehow managed to feel like a real wedding and Ariston had even asked if she wanted her mother there. Keeley had been torn by his unexpected suggestion. She had felt a wave of something symbolic at the thought of her mother witnessing her marriage, until a last-minute chest infection had put paid to the idea. And maybe that was best. Even if she had been aware of what was going on around her, what would her mum have cared about seeing her married, when she’d made such a mockery of marriage herself?

      Keeley had wondered why Ariston hadn’t suggested a short trip to the register office with the minimum fuss and no guests other than a couple of anonymous witnesses gathered from the street. Wouldn’t that have been more appropriate in the circumstances? But his reply had been quietly emphatic.

      ‘Maybe I want to make a statement.’

      ‘A statement?’

      ‘That’s right. Shout it from the rooftops. What is it they say? Fake it to make it.’

      ‘By putting your stamp on me, you mean?’ she questioned acidly. ‘Branding me as a Kavakos possession—just

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