The French Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress by Abby Green

Author:Abby Green [Green, Abby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, General, Mistresses, Pregnancy, Businessmen, Sportscasters
ISBN: 9780263206135
Google: O90r0l7DF-UC
Amazon: 0263206130
Publisher: Gale Group
Published: 2008-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

As his private jet winged Alana home in style and comfort, the novelty and charmlessness of commercial travel was quickly reminding Pascal how far he’d come. Although, he could never forget his upbringing; it was branded onto his skin like a tattoo. He could remember how close he’d come to being one of the lost youths of the Parisian suburbs: lost to a life of crime and drugs, hopelessness. Until his mother had died and had thus saved him, by ensuring that he would go to live with his grandfather. She had redeemed herself and her woeful mothering by making sure he’d take another path, despite the fact that he’d been a representation of everything that had failed in her own life.

Pascal strode free of the gnarled mass of human traffic in Charles de Gaulle airport and sank into the back of his car which was waiting just outside the doors. Why was he thinking of such things now, when he hadn’t thought of them in years?

Alana.

A woman was making him think of these things, when no other lover had ever done so. He had to concede that no other lover had taken him by the scruff of the neck and rattled him so completely. No other lover had evoked within him a compelling need to obey instinct over intellect. He hadn’t lived like that for a long time. She connected to something within him, primitive and long-suppressed, deep and visceral. He searched desperately to justify this feeling, to rationalise it, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate.

When she’d stood there earlier and had coolly informed him that she was fine with their temporary affair, that above all she didn’t expect commitment, he should have been rejoicing. Wasn’t it a man’s ultimate fantasy? For a man like him, happy to take lovers for a short time until they bored him, or until they started looking for more.

Here he was, being offered this fantasy on a plate, and he well knew that she meant every word she’d said. It wasn’t some kind of devious reverse-psychology. So why had he felt anything but relieved? Why had he wanted to challenge her? Why had that instinct not to let her go felt so strong? He’d certainly never aspired to the empty heights of marriage, either; he’d learnt at an early age that searching for that elusive happiness only bred disillusionment and pain. His parents had both proved in their own ways to be prime examples of that. His father had seen him as nothing but a threat to his own marriage, and had rejected him outright because of it.

Yet Alana was making him question the very bedrock on which he’d built his life. His sluggish brain finally kicked into gear: attraction. That had to be it. A rare form of lust. He just hadn’t met a woman who’d taken possession of his body and mind before, that was all. That had to be all. OK, so she wasn’t into anything permanent—well, neither was he. He just wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of the ultimatum, that was all.

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