Page 3 of Marriage Masquerade

Startled, Gemma looked up. Nikos' dark brows were straight as he frowned. He was angry. She recognized that instantly. She could practically feel waves of energy emanating from him—which was totally unlike the normally cool, controlled man she’d worked with for so long. Businesslike and contained, that was Nikos Petropoulos.

She’d always admired that. And had done her best to be the same way. To be the perfect personal assistant.

Did she owe him a full explanation? She hated to see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t suffer fools gladly, and what she’d done was beyond foolish. Of course, he didn’t have a very high opinion of women to begin with, thanks to his wife. Ex-wife, she corrected herself.

So her own circumstances would only confirm that opinion.

When she’d started working for him, Nikos had been married to a renowned British super model. But that union hadn’t lasted long. Katrina had been beautiful, elegant and sophisticated, but also greedy, conniving and unfaithful.

He’d divorced her three years ago.

Since then, he’d played the field, never drawing close to any woman. And sometimes his remarks the day after a particularly trying date demonstrated to her he didn’t think highly of her gender.

“Is it something wrong with your work here?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I think it’s time for a change. I need to leave New York.”

Rubbing her palms nervously against her long black skirt, she tried to remain calm.

“Leave New York? Why? Is it too expensive? Do you need more money?”

Gemma flashed him an indignant look.

“No, and if money were the issue, I’d list all I’ve done during the past year and let the record speak for itself.”

He stifled a smile at her flare of temper.

“It was unusual for you to advocate for yourself before. You know your work is excellent. You miss nothing, Gemma.”

Warmth spread through her. She smiled in genuine pleasure and wry amusement. He could have volunteered that information earlier. But it probably had never crossed his mind to do so.

He glanced at the letter again, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I need to get this resolved,” he said slowly. “Your timing couldn’t be worse.”

“There is nothing to resolve. I’m formally giving notice. I’ll leave in two weeks.”

“Do you have another job?”

“Not yet. I need to move and get settled first.”

He crossed to the desk and leaned against it, looking down at her.

“Tell me what’s going on, Gemma. You’re moving across the country with no job, no family, nobody waiting. What’s the deal? You owe me an explanation, don’t you think?”

Did she owe any man anything?

Twisting her fingers, she looked at them, wondering what to do. She just wanted everything to go back the way it had been, but that would never happen. Everything was changing, out of control. She wondered if she could cope.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.

Silence.

She ventured a glance to find his dark gaze steady on her.

“And the father doesn’t live here in New York?”