Modern Romance May 2020 Books 5-8

She shook her head and that bright hair slipped over one shoulder. He was rewarded with a memory of wrapping it around his hand as he’d tugged her head back so that he could press kisses down along the column of her throat, and then lower to the pouting provocation of her tight pink nipples.

‘No, it’s fine. I’ll come down. My headache is much better.’

Sasha was still somewhere between waking and sleeping. She hadn’t expected to conk out like that when she’d lain down for a short nap after her bath, but now she could see the dusky sky outside. It had also taken a minute to realise she wasn’t dreaming when she’d opened her eyes to see Apollo standing by the bed. It had been the fierce expression on his face that had woken her properly.

It reminded her of his angry words. ‘What the hell are you up to?’

He’d changed into dark trousers and a dark shirt, open at the neck. Sleeves rolled up as if he’d been working at his desk. In this position, looking up at him, it felt intimate. An echo of a previous moment teased at her memory, as if she’d sat in this very position looking up at him like this, but in a very different situation.

‘I’ll just change and come down,’ she said quickly.

Apollo took another step back and Sasha could breathe a little easier. He said, ‘Very well. I’ll send Kara to show you down in a few minutes.’

Sasha had the distinct impression that he would have preferred it if she’d said she’d eat alone in her room and in a way it would have been easier for her too. But she also had a strong instinct to try and do her utmost to regain her memory and if that meant interacting with her antagonistic husband then so be it.

‘Just through here, Kyria Vasilis.’

Sasha smiled at the same young woman who had brought up her bag earlier. Kara. The girl didn’t smile back.

After Apollo had left, Sasha had washed her face and gone into the walk-in closet to find some clothes. She’d finally pulled out the plainest and most modest clothes she could find. A pair of slim-fitting Capri pants and a cropped sleeveless shirt. The shirt was white but the trousers were yellow. Apparently she didn’t really do muted colours.

And, thankfully, she’d found some flattish shoes. Wedge espadrilles. Unworn, still in the box.

She walked through a less formal lounge on the ground floor that she hadn’t seen earlier and through open French doors to another smaller terrace. The one she’d seen from her balcony earlier, covered by a trellis and surrounded by a profusion of flowers. The view here was of the gently sloping grounds down to the outdoor pool.

The scent of the flowers permeated the air when she stepped outside. The air was warm and still. Peaceful. It soothed her fraying edges and foggy mind a little. Apollo looked up from where he’d been staring broodily into the distance, long fingers around the stem of a glass of wine.

He stood up immediately and something about that small automatic gesture gave her a tiny spurt of reassurance. He pulled out a chair and she sat down, his scent easily eclipsing the sweeter scent of the flowers to infuse the air with something far more potent.

She felt the tension between them. Not surprising after his words earlier but there was also another kind of tension, deep in the core of her body. A hungry kind of tension, as if she knew what it felt like to have that tension released.

He sat down opposite her and picked up a bottle of Greek white wine. ‘Would you like a glass?’

Sasha wasn’t sure. Did she like wine? Might it help take the edge off the unbearable tension she was feeling? She nodded. ‘Just a little, please.’

When he’d poured the wine, she lifted her glass and took a sip, finding it light and sharp. She did like it. The housekeeper Rhea appeared then with appetiser plates of dips and flatbreads. Apollo must have noticed her looking at the food because he pushed a bowl towards her. ‘This is tzatziki with mint, and the other one is hummus.’

She dipped some bread in each, savouring the tart taste of the tzatziki and the creamier hummus.

Apollo seemed to have directed his brooding stare onto her and to try and deflect his attention she said, ‘Your home is lovely.’ It didn’t feel like her home, even if she had been living here for a few months. ‘You must be very successful.’

Apollo took a sip of wine. She thought she saw a quirk of his mouth but it was gone when he lowered his glass. ‘You could say that.’

She had the feeling he was laughing at her. Before she could respond, Rhea appeared again to clear the starters and then Kara brought the main courses. Chicken breasts with salad and baby potatoes. Sasha blushed when her stomach rumbled loudly. She took a bite and almost groaned at the lemon-zesty flavour of the chicken. She felt as if it had been an age since she’d eaten anything so flavoursome.

When her plate was clean she looked up to find Apollo putting down his own fork and knife and staring at her.

‘What?’ She wiped her mouth with her napkin, suddenly aware that she’d fallen on the food like a starving person.

‘Apparently you’ve discovered an appetite,’ was Apollo’s dry response.

Rhea appeared again and gathered up the plates. Sasha said automatically, ‘That was lovely, thank you.’

Rhea stopped and looked at her as if she had two heads before just nodding abruptly and leaving. Not wanting to ask but feeling as if she had no choice, Sasha said, ‘What do you mean about the food, and why does she look at me like that? And Kara too...as if they’re scared of me.’

‘Because they probably are. You didn’t exactly treat them with much respect. And before, you treated any food you were served as if it was an enemy to be feared.’

Sasha could feel the onset of that faint throbbing, signalling a headache again as she absorbed his answer. ‘You really don’t believe that I have amnesia?’

Apollo was expressionless. ‘Let’s just say that your past behaviour wouldn’t give me confidence in your ability to tell the truth.’

What happened?

The words trembled on Sasha’s lips but like a coward she swerved away from inviting an answer she wasn’t ready to hear yet. Especially if what he’d just told her was true. Apollo was looking at her with that disdainful expression that was fast becoming far too familiar, and painful.

‘I’m not lying. I promise. I wish I could make the fog in my brain clear but I can’t. Believe me, there’s nothing more frightening that not knowing anything about yourself, your past, your future. All I have to trust is that you are my husband and that I do live here with you, when it feels like I’ve never been here before.’

She added, ‘I don’t know what I did but if your attitude and Rhea’s and Kara’s are anything to go by it wasn’t good. But how can I apologise for something I can’t even remember doing?’

Shocked at the surge of emotion catching her unawares and making her chest tight, Sasha stood up and went to the edge of the terrace, arms folded tight across her breasts. To her horror, tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them at bay.

Apollo’s whole body was so rigid with tension he had to force himself to breathe in and relax. He looked at Sasha’s tense body. The curve of her naked waist was visible where the cropped shirt rode above the waistline of her trousers. Her skin was pale. Her hair glinted more red in the light of the setting sun, like a flame against the white of her shirt.

She seemed genuinely upset. Agitated. Apollo didn’t trust her for an instant but for whatever reason—maybe she was buying time to figure out a way to convince him to stay married—she was insisting on this charade.

For the past three months she’d been playing every trick in the book to try and entice him into her bed, but not wanting her had made it easy to resist. Now, though...he couldn’t be sure he would be able to resist and if she knew that...

He stood up and noticed how she tensed even more. He went over and stood beside her. She didn’t look at him. Her jaw was tight. Mouth pursed. He was about to look away but did a double-take when he saw the glistening drop of moisture on the lower lashes of her eye. She’d been crying? To his shock and consternation, instead of feeling disgust, Apollo felt his conscience prick.

In all her machinations up to now she hadn’t ever manufactured actual tears. She’d looked close to tears when she’d turned up at his London office three months ago but she hadn’t cried.

Maybe she’s telling the truth.

He’d be a fool to trust her after everything that had happened, but he knew who she was now, so she couldn’t surprise him again. ‘Look,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘You’ve been through an ordeal and you need to recuperate. We can talk about whether I believe you or not when you’re stronger.’

For the week following Apollo’s pronouncement Sasha existed in a kind of numb fog. She was still bruised and battered enough not to fuss when Kara or Rhea insisted on bringing food to her room, or when they appeared as she sat on the terrace to put a light rug over her legs in the early evening, in spite of the Greek heat.

Sasha noticed that as the days dawned and faded into dusk, the women grew less wary around her. Although she still caught them looking at her suspiciously and whispering in corners when they thought she wasn’t looking.

Of Apollo, there was no sign. He seemed to go to work as dawn broke—she usually woke when she heard the powerful throttle of an engine as it disappeared down the drive—and she was asleep before she heard it return.

In fact, she realised now, if it wasn’t for hearing the engine each morning, she couldn’t even be sure that he came home at all. A man with a house like this would surely have other properties. An apartment in Athens?

A mistress?

That thought caught at her gut as she sat in the dusk on Friday evening on the smaller terrace. The end of the working week. The start of the weekend. If they weren’t sharing a bedroom then obviously this marriage was not a functioning one. And yet the thought of Apollo with another woman made her feel...nauseous.

She barely knew the man beyond some very hazy memories. And yet...she felt a sense of possessiveness now that shocked her because it was so strong. And also a sense of injury, as if something had been done to her.

‘Good evening.’

Sasha nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked around to see the object of her circling thoughts standing just a few feet away. A jolt of electric awareness zinged into her belly. Disconcerting, but also familiar.

He wore dark trousers and the top button of his shirt was open. His hair was slightly dishevelled, as if he’d run a hand through it. His jaw was stubbled.

‘I didn’t hear you come back, I never do.’ She blushed when she said that, aware of how it must sound. ‘I mean, I usually hear your car in the mornings, not in the evenings. I wasn’t sure if you were staying somewhere else. Do you have a property in the city?’ Aware she was babbling now, she clamped her mouth shut.

He walked in sat down on a seat at a right angle to hers. His shirt pulled taut across his chest and she had to drag her eyes away. What was wrong with her? All week she’d been existing in this numbness but now she felt alive, fizzing.

‘I can’t account for why you don’t hear the car in the evening, as I’ve been returning to the villa every night. But, yes, I do have an apartment in Athens. It’s the penthouse at the top of my office building.’

‘You have a building.’ Not just an office. A whole building.

He nodded. ‘And another one in London. And offices in New York, Paris and Rome. I’m finalising plans to open an office in Tokyo next year.’

Sasha couldn’t help but be impressed. ‘That’s a lot of offices. You must have worked very hard.’

He looked utterly relaxed but she could sense the tension in his form. He said, ‘For as long as I can remember.’

‘Did you study for it?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, but I worked on sites at the same time, so I got my diploma while I was working my way up the ranks. I didn’t want to waste any time going to college full time.’

Apollo went still. He hadn’t come here to chat with his treacherous wife who may or may not be feigning amnesia, but if she was faking it then he had to hand it to her for stamina. She hadn’t let her mask slip all week.

Rhea and Kara had told him that she’d been as civil and polite as much as she’d been selfish and rude in the recent past. There seemed to be no glimmer of that earlier incarnation of his wife this evening. Just those huge blue eyes looking at him guilelessly.

He wanted to get up and walk away. So he did get up. But instead of walking away he went over to the low terrace wall and sat on that.

She’d turned in the seat to look at him. She was wearing a white shirt-dress with a gold belt. The dress was buttoned up to a modest height.

Previously, Sasha would have had a dress like this buttoned so low that her underwear would have been visible. Then it had aroused nothing more than irritation. Now, though, all he could see were those little buttons and think about how easy it would be to undo them, baring her breasts to his gaze.

He could see her pale legs. Long and slender. Together and slanted to the side, ladylike.

He would have laughed if he’d been able to muster up a sense of humour. Not too long ago she’d been involved in activities very unbecoming to a lady.

He diverted his mind away from her dress, her legs. Abruptly he found himself saying, ‘My father used to be a foreman for one of Greece’s biggest construction companies. He got injured on the job, and became paralysed from the waist down.’

Sasha put a hand to her mouth, visibly shocked.

A familiar sense of rage that hadn’t been dulled by time settled in Apollo’s belly. ‘He never really recovered. All he knew was how to manage a construction site. He could have done that in an office, in a wheelchair but everyone turned him down. His own employer refused to give him any compensation. His pride was in tatters. He couldn’t support his wife and two sons.’

She frowned, ‘You have a brother?’

Apollo ignored that. He felt ruthless as he told her the rest, watching her reaction carefully. ‘My father killed himself when I was eleven and my brother was thirteen. My mother got cancer not long afterwards and died within a couple of years. My brother and I were sent to into foster care. My brother got involved with a drugs and gang crime. He was stabbed to death when he was sixteen.’

Apollo’s eyes were glowing with intensity. Like dark green jewels. Sasha felt pinned to the spot by them. By his words. She couldn’t speak. Anything she thought of saying felt too trite. Ineffectual.

Apollo continued. ‘I made it my life’s mission to go after the man who had employed my father and cast him aside like a piece of unwanted trash. And I succeeded. It didn’t take much to dismantle his business because he was corrupt to the core. As soon as he went down, hundreds of disgruntled ex-employees came out of the woodwork looking for compensation and that’s what ruined him in the end.’

He was looking at her now as if he expected her to be shocked. And she was. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said huskily. ‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose so many when you were so young. I don’t know about my family...when my parents died.’

Apollo was reeling that he’d let all of that tumble from his mouth. A bare handful of people knew about his past, and yet he’d just told Sasha everything. The one person in the world that he should trust the least. He waited for the mask to slip, for her to take advantage of sharing his sad story. But it didn’t.

She’d gone pale. And her eyes were huge. And she was frowning now. ‘You said my parents are dead, and I’ve no siblings?’

He nodded. ‘You told me that your mother was a single parent. Your father left when you were small. You looked for him but found out that he’d died some years ago and then your mother died a couple of years ago.’

‘Oh...it’s so strange not to be able to remember my mother. Or looking for my father.’

She seemed to be genuinely tortured. Biting her lip. Apollo had a sudden flashback to kissing her for the first time, feeling the cushiony softness of her mouth opening under his, allowing him to delve deeper...all the way... His hands curled tight around the lip of the wall in a bid to douse the growing inferno in his blood.

He stood up. ‘I have some work calls to make. Goodnight, Sasha.’

She looked distracted. ‘Goodnight.’

He was walking out but he couldn’t get those huge bruised-looking eyes out of his head. He stopped at the door and looked back. She cut a curiously vulnerable figure on the large couch.

‘I’m sorry about your parents.’

She turned around and some of that vivid gold and red hair slipped over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

Desire squeezed Apollo like a vice. He wanted to go back over there and pull apart that flimsy dress material and spread it wide so he could see her pale beauty. He wanted to force her to admit that she was just acting. Messing with his head again. He wouldn’t make love to her. He’d have her begging for it and then he’d leave her there, panting and admitting who she really was.

‘Goodnight, Sasha.’

Apollo walked out before he followed his base instincts and did something stupid because that way lay madness. The same madness that had made him want her with a primal need he’d never felt before, the first time he’d looked at her.

He got to his study and poured himself a drink and sat down, unable to excise the image of those huge blue eyes out of his brain. Or the impact they’d had on him the first time he’d seen her.

That night, in that anonymous function room in London, had been the first time that anyone had managed to slip past Apollo’s defences so skilfully, and without even trying. By just looking at him. Something wild and untamed had crackled to life inside him and he’d realised that he’d never truly felt desire before. He’d taken many lovers but had never allowed them to get close. Satisfying his physical urges only.

After his experiences—seeing his father humiliated and belittled and ultimately destroyed; after seeing his mother wither and fade from their lives, a sad broken woman; and after watching his brother self-destruct—Apollo had vowed never to let anyone close enough to make him care when they would inevitably leave. He’d been left behind too many times.

But for the first time, with Sasha, satisfying his physical urges had taken on a whole new level of need. He’d had to have her. And so he’d followed his base instincts and indulged.

He’d lost himself in her before he’d come back to his senses. And remembered who he was. And what he was. And what he was was empty inside.

Revenge had filled that space for a long time. He’d only been coming to terms with the fact that it hadn’t felt more cathartic to have achieved his goals when he’d met Sasha. He’d put her effect on him down to that curious space he’d been in. Anticlimactic. Restless. Dissatisfied, when he should have been satisfied. At peace.

There was a knock on his door and he tensed. ‘Come in.’

Sasha took a deep breath outside Apollo’s study door. She knew he’d said he was taking or making calls but she hadn’t heard his voice when she’d diverted to his office en route to her bedroom, so she’d acted on impulse.

She opened the door and he was sitting behind his desk, a brooding expression on his face. He frowned. ‘Is everything okay?’

She nodded, but immediately regretted her decision when that awareness of him coiled tight, down low in her belly. ‘Fine. I just...’ She stopped. She shouldn’t have come here now. The way he made her feel just by looking at her was so...disturbing. She wanted to run but also stay rooted to the spot.

He frowned. ‘Sasha—’

She spoke in a rush. ‘I know you’re busy, but I want to know why our marriage is...like this. Separate bedrooms. Tense. You don’t like me very much.’

At all, whispered a little voice.

Apollo put down the glass in his hand. He stood up and came around to sit on the edge of his desk. Arms folded across his chest, which only drew attention to his muscles. Heat washed up through her body and she couldn’t stop it.

Had she always been so aware of men?

Maybe it’s just him, whispered a voice.

Somehow, she couldn’t deny that it was entirely possible she only reacted like this to him.

Apollo saw the twin flags of colour in Sasha’s cheeks. He was almost disappointed that she was showing her true colours again so soon. She’d nearly had him convinced. But coming here like this now...she must have seen his desire for her. And now she was taking advantage of it.

He was tempted to just confront her right now, but something in him counselled against acting too hastily. ‘Our marriage had some...issues, but I don’t think now is the time to go into them.’

He watched her carefully, which only made him more aware of her. Aware that he wanted her.

Witch.

She looked at him. ‘I don’t know why but I feel I need to apologise, as if I’ve done something wrong and that’s why you hate me and Rhea and Kara look at me as if I’m about to do something unexpected.’

Apollo fought the pull to believe her. To trust in this image of innocence she was putting forward. She’d done it before. He straightened up from the desk. He told himself he was moving closer to test her, just to see if she would show her true colours. Not because he wanted to.

Her eyes got big and round and the pink in her cheeks deepened as she looked up at him as if he were a big bad wolf. Something snapped inside Apollo, some control he’d been exerting since she’d woken in the hospital bed and looked at him with those blue eyes, re-igniting his desire.

He reached out and caught a lock of her hair, winding it around his finger. It felt like silk. It reminded him of how it had felt when her hair had trailed over his naked chest the night they’d made love.

‘I prefer it like this, loose and wild. You preferred it straightened.’

‘I did?’ Sasha’s chest constricted. Why couldn’t she seem to breathe? The air was thick and full of something that felt alive. The awareness she felt turned into a pulse in her blood. Heavy and persistent.

Almost as if he was talking to himself, Apollo said, ‘It was like this the night we met.’

‘I don’t... I don’t remember. I mean, I remember bits of that night but not details...’

Apollo stood in front of her, eyes roving her face. ‘Are you sure, Sasha? Really? Or is this just an elaborate stunt to gain my trust? To get back into my bed?’

His words acted like cold water in her blood. She pulled back, dislodging his hand from her hair. ‘No. I wouldn’t do that.’

He moved closer again and put his hand under her chin, tipping her face up. So much for his words dousing the heat. It sizzled back at his touch, just as potent.

‘Wouldn’t you? It’s no less than you’ve already done, but I have to admit, if you are acting, your skills are exemplary.’

For the first time since she’d woken up in the hospital something more than confusion and bewilderment rushed through her, distracting her. Sasha took his hand to pull it down. ‘Maybe that’s because I’m not acting.’

But instead of pushing his hand away to break all contact with him and his cynical words, she couldn’t seem to let go. Electricity hummed through her, mixing with the high emotion to create a volatile mix.