At the Tycoon's Service: The Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress / The Tycoon's Rebel Bride / The Tycoon’s Secret Affair

Before Marley even realized what was happening, the other woman was effectively shuttling her toward the bedroom. She blinked when Patrice tucked her solidly into bed and arranged the covers around her.

“You’re quite good at this,” Marley said faintly.

Patrice chuckled. “Getting my patients to do what they don’t want to is part of my job. Now get some rest so that man of yours is happy with me and with you when he returns.”

Marley heard the light sounds of Patrice’s shoes as she walked from the bedroom. When the sound faded away, Marley glanced to the fireplace on the wall opposing the foot of her bed. Chrysander had started the flame the evening before, more for coziness than actual warmth, because the apartment suffered no chill. Even the floors were heated, which she loved, because she hated to wear shoes indoors.

The thought hit her even as a burst of excitement swept over her. What else could she remember about herself? She concentrated hard, but the effort caused her head to ache again.

The baby moved, and she slid her hand down to rest over her swollen abdomen. The movement eased the discomfort in her head, and she smiled. Despite the temporary loss of her past, she had a future to look forward to. Marriage and a child. She just wished she could remember how she’d gotten to this point.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to living in the moment. Hopefully her memories would return and fill in the gaps.

She dozed, and when she awoke, she looked at the clock by her bed and saw that an hour had elapsed. She felt refreshed and drew away the covers, wanting to get up and move around. The constant rest was starting to make her restless.

Though she was dressed in soft pajamas, she nevertheless reached for the silk dressing robe lying at the foot of her bed. Tying it around her body, she walked out of the bedroom and into the living room, where she found Patrice.

She smiled at the other woman and assured her she was feeling well when Patrice prompted her. Patrice nodded approvingly, and as if sensing Marley’s need to be alone, excused herself.

Marley took the opportunity to explore the spacious penthouse. She walked from room to room, acquainting herself with her home. Only it didn’t feel like home. She could see Chrysander in the style and makeup of the decorations and furnishings, but she couldn’t see anything that made her feel as though she’d made any mark on the apartment. For some reason, that discomfited her. She felt like a guest intruding where she didn’t belong.

When she entered the master suite, her frown grew. Chrysander had placed her in what apparently was one of the guest rooms. She hadn’t given any thought when he’d put her to bed and seen to her comfort in the extra bedroom. She’d been too overwhelmed, too focused on trying to process everything.

She retreated, unable to shake the thought that she was somehow trespassing. Next to the master suite was a large office. It was obviously Chrysander’s work space. The furnishings were dark and masculine. Bookcases adorned the back wall, and a large mahogany desk sat a few feet in front of them. Her feet brushed across a plush rug as she walked farther into the middle of the room.

A laptop rested on the desk, and she sat down in the leather executive chair in anticipation of browsing the Internet. She only hoped he had a wireless connection since she could see no evidence of a cable line connected to the computer.

She touched the keypad, and the monitor lit up. At least she wasn’t a useless vegetable and had retained knowledge of the basics. As frustrating as her memory loss was, she was relieved to know it was confined to her personal history and not to the world around her.

She shook her head, plagued by the sheer absurdity of it all.

For the first half hour, she did countless searches on memory loss, but wading through the mass of conflicting opinions only gave her a vile headache. So she turned her attention to looking up information on Chrysander.

It was a bit frightening to see just how powerful and wealthy Chrysander was. He and his two brothers were a formidable presence in the hotel industry. There wasn’t much personal information, though, and that was what she craved.

She sat back, irritated with her cowardice. What she needed was to ask Chrysander for the information she wanted. For goodness’ sake, he was her fiancé, her lover. They’d created a child together, and he’d asked her to marry him. If only she could remember those events, she would feel more sure of herself.

“What are you doing?”

Chrysander’s whiplike voice lashed over her, and she jerked in surprise and fright. She stared up to see him standing in the doorway, anger and suspicion glittering in his eyes. His mouth was drawn into a tight line. He strode toward her before she could even formulate a response.

“Chrysander, you scared me.” Her hand went to her chest to try and calm the erratic jumping of her pulse.

“I asked you what you were doing,” he said coldly as he walked around the desk to stand beside her.

Hurt and confusion settled over her. “I was just surfing the Internet. I didn’t think you’d object to me using your laptop.”

“I prefer if you leave the things in my office alone,” he said curtly, even as he reached out and closed the computer.

She slid out of the chair and stood staring at him in shock. Tears burned the corners of her eyes. He looked at her with such…loathing. A shiver took over her body, and she desired nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out. “I was just trying to discover something about me…you…this horrid memory loss. I won’t bother you or your things again.”

She turned and fled the room before she embarrassed herself and broke into sobs.

Chrysander watched her go and cursed under his breath. He dragged a hand through his hair before he sat down and reopened the laptop. A quick check of the browsing history showed she’d done nothing more than research memory loss and a few articles about his company. Another check of his files indicated none of his business documents had been accessed.

He cursed again. He’d reacted badly, but seeing her using his computer had immediately put him on guard. In that moment, he’d wondered if her memory loss was all a ruse and she was plotting again to betray him.

He propped his elbows on the desk and held his head in his hands. His meeting with the detective in charge of the investigation into Marley’s abduction had been an exercise in frustration. They had little to no information to go on, and the one person who could supply it couldn’t remember.

Marley hadn’t been rescued as the news had led viewers to believe; rather, she’d been abandoned by her kidnappers, and an anonymous caller had alerted police to her presence in the rundown apartment building. When they’d arrived, they’d found a frightened pregnant woman obviously in shock. When she’d awoken in the hospital, she’d remembered nothing. Her life, in essence, began on that day.

So many questions, so much unknown.

What had been made clear to him, though, was that he couldn’t take chances with her safety. Whatever threat there was to her was still out there, and he’d be damned if he let anyone get close enough to hurt Marley or his child again. He’d expected the authorities to balk when he said he was taking Marley out of the country, not that he cared, because her well-being was his top priority and he would do whatever it took to ensure it.

Instead, they’d agreed that it was the best choice and advised him to step up his security. They wanted to be notified the moment her memory returned, so they could question her. Chrysander supplied them with his contact information and told them he would be leaving with her the next day.

There was much to do to prepare for their departure. He’d already alerted his security team both here and on the island. Preparations were under way, but he still had many phone calls to make. Yet the sight of Marley’s tears and the hurt in her voice gave him pause. He should shove it aside and continue with his plans. Her safety was important. Whether she was upset was not.

Even as he thought it, he was on his feet and going after her.

Marley stood in the closet of the bedroom Chrysander had given her, staring blindly at the row of clothing hanging in front of her. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and concentrated on what to wear.

She rummaged through the many outfits, but none of them felt like her. With an unhappy frown she turned to the row of shelves that lined the right side of her closet and saw a stack of faded jeans next to several neatly folded T-shirts.

She reached for the jeans, knowing that this was what she felt comfortable in. But when she unfolded the first pair, she saw that they weren’t maternity pants. A quick search of the rest yielded the same results.

She turned back around and flipped through outfit after outfit on the hangers and saw that they, too, were not suitable clothing for a woman in the more advanced stages of pregnancy. Why did she have nothing to wear? She glanced down at the bulge of her stomach. While she wasn’t huge, the waistlines of the clothing in her closet were too confining for a woman five months along.

She felt his presence before he ever made a sound. Slowly, she turned to see Chrysander standing in the doorway of her closet. His expression softened when she swiped at her face and turned quickly away.

He stepped forward and captured her wrist in his hand. “Marley, I’m sorry.”

She stiffened and raised her chin until she met his gaze. “I shouldn’t have meddled in your belongings.” She raised her hand to gesture at the closet full of clothes. “We obviously keep a very separate lifestyle. You’ll pardon me while I relearn the ropes.”

He frowned darkly and stared at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? There will be no separation of our lifestyles.”

She shrugged indifferently. “The evidence is here. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure it out. You’ve put me in my own room. My clothes are separate. Our things are separate. Our beds are separate. It’s a wonder I ever got pregnant,” she added wryly. She swallowed and then pressed on with the question burning uppermost in her mind. “Why are you marrying me, Chrysander? Was my pregnancy an accident? Was I some lascivious bitch who trapped you into a relationship?”

She knew she sounded hysterical even as the words tumbled out, but the hurt was eating away at her insides. She needed reassurance, some sign that the life he claimed was hers was a happy place and not one filled with dark gaps like the holes in her memory.

“Theos! Come with me.”

Before she could protest, he was dragging her from the closet. He ushered her over to the bed and sat her down before settling beside her.

She glanced uncomfortably around. “Where is Patrice?” She had no wish to have a disagreement in front of anyone else.