Modern Romance May 2020 Books 5-8

Her head was starting to throb faintly. ‘What happens now?’

‘Nothing. Until you’ve recovered fully. Then we can discuss the future.’

The future.

Sasha felt slightly hysterical. She couldn’t recall much of the past, never mind the future.

She stood up. ‘I’m getting a headache. I think I’ll go to bed.’

Apollo watched as she turned and walked out. She was the colour of pale parchment. Maybe it had been too soon to tell her the unvarnished truth? No matter how much she’d insisted she wanted to know.

He felt an impulse to go after her and make sure she was okay but he told himself he was being ridiculous. The woman who had engineered a fake pregnancy to trap him into marriage was no delicate soul. Accident or no accident.

He poured himself another shot of whisky and downed it in one. It burned his throat. But he couldn’t get her pale face and huge shocked eyes out of his mind. He had to admit that he was finding it hard to continue suspecting that she was faking the amnesia. Sasha would never have been able to play this far more innocent incarnation for so long without cracking.

Which meant...this news was as shocking to her now as it had been to him when he’d first heard it.

Apollo cursed and put down the glass. He went upstairs and stood outside Sasha’s bedroom door for a long moment. He heard no sounds.

He knocked lightly but again there was no sound. He opened the door and went in. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light. He could see no shape in the bed. And then he saw her, standing outside on the balcony.

She must have heard him because she turned around. She’d changed. She was wearing a diaphanous robe over what looked like a short negligée. From where he stood, Apollo could see the outline of her body. All slender curves and pale skin.

His blood surged, and he realised in that moment that he shouldn’t have come up here. Sasha stepped into the room. ‘Is something wrong?’

But instead of leaving, Apollo moved towards her as if drawn by a magnet. The moon was behind her, low in the sky. A perfect crescent. The milky glow made her look ethereal, adding a silver tinge to her rose-gold hair. It was down again, falling in soft waves over her shoulders.

He had an urge to touch her to make sure she was, in fact, real. He stopped a couple of feet away. Her scent reached him—lemon, underlain with something more tantalisingly exotic. But soft, not overpowering.

Different.

‘You said you had a headache.’

She touched her head. ‘It’s okay now, thank you. I think it was just taking in all that information...’

Sasha wasn’t sure that she wasn’t hallucinating right now. Was Apollo really standing in her room, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before?

But then, at that moment, he said, ‘I just wanted to check you were okay,’ and then turned around as if to leave.

Sasha acted on an impulse, reaching out with her hand. ‘Wait.’

He stopped. Turned around. Sasha wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. And then she did. She dropped her outstretched hand. ‘I don’t remember anything of what you said... It doesn’t feel like something I would do but then how do I know?’

She bit her lip. ‘Did you even care about the baby?’

Apollo had to school his expression in case she saw something he didn’t want to reveal. The pain of losing his entire family over a period of a few years had been so acute that he’d always vowed to avoid such pain again by not having a family of his own.

But, to his surprise, after the initial shock and anger at Sasha’s pregnancy news had abated, he’d found that the thought of a baby he could protect and nurture had softened something inside him. And had restored a broken sense of hope, optimism.

But then, the fact that she’d lied about it and roused those feelings had made a cruel mockery of the defences he’d built up over the years. They hadn’t been strong after all. Now, though, they were ironclad. Not that he would ever reveal to her what she’d done to him. She’d revealed a weakness, and reopened a wound and he would never forgive her for that.

‘I had never intended on having a relationship or becoming a father. Not after losing my entire family. But of course I would have cared for any child of mine. I’m not a monster.’

Sasha’s eyes were huge. Full of emotion. Exposure prickled over his skin just as she said huskily, ‘I’m sorry...for what happened. I don’t know why I pretended to be pregnant but I’d like to think I had good reasons.’

He fought against the image she was projecting of someone compassionate, who cared. He should move back, out of her dangerous orbit, but instead he found himself moving closer. All he could see was her. Looking impossibly innocent. Impossibly because she hadn’t been innocent at all. Or had she? Physically perhaps, at least.

He had an intensely erotic memory of how it had felt to thrust deep into that silken embrace. Her muscles had clamped so tightly around him he’d seen stars.

Angry at his lack of control, he asked curtly, ‘Are you really sorry, though? Or is this just an elaborate showcase of your acting skills to entice me back into your bed so you can try to get pregnant for real?’

Horror at his relentless cynicism made Sasha take a step back. ‘No. How can you say such a thing?’

Apollo’s mouth was a thin line. ‘Very easily, because you did it before, countless times, including the memorable occasion when I came home to find you naked in my bed.’

Shock and disbelief made Sasha take another step back. She shook her head. ‘No, there is no way I would have ever done such a thing.’

Apollo just arched a brow. ‘Why would I lie? You have to agree it made sense. After all, you weren’t pregnant so you needed to get pregnant. Fast.’

Sasha swallowed. Had that really been her? So desperate? Conniving? She struggled to defend herself when she felt as if everything inside her was crumbling. ‘But it’s obvious you don’t want me—why would I have humiliated myself like that?’

Apollo was looking at her so intensely she could scarcely breathe.

He said something under his breath then, a word she didn’t understand, and then said, almost as if to himself, ‘I thought I didn’t want you any more, but now it’s all I can think about. What kind of sorcery is this?’

Sasha’s heart slammed to a stop, and then started again in an erratic rhythm. She suddenly became very aware of her flimsy garments. The silky thigh-skimming negligée and floaty dressing gown. Garments she didn’t feel particularly comfortable in, but apparently she hadn’t favoured comfort over style.

She tried to speak. ‘I don’t... There’s no sorcery.’

His gaze raked her up and down and she trembled under its force. Her breasts felt heavy, their tips tightening into hard points, pressing against the silky material. Her body remembered this man. His touch. But she didn’t. Frustration coursed through her. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth, the firm sculpted lines.

Apollo barely heard Sasha’s denial. He knew this was madness. That he shouldn’t have come to her bedroom. But rational thought was fast dissolving in a haze of lust. He reached out and caught a loose tendril of silky hair, winding it around his finger, tugging her gently towards him.

When he looked down he could see her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breath, pale swells framed enticingly by lace, inviting him to touch, explore. Electricity hummed between them, thick and urgent.

He tipped her chin up with his forefinger and thumb. Her eyes were huge pools of blue. He had a flashback to the first time he’d kissed her, sitting in a discreet booth of the exclusive hotel bar where he’d taken her for a drink when she’d finished work on that first night.

It had been a rare novelty, waiting for her to emerge from a staff entrance of the hotel. He could remember the sensation of something loosening inside him. He’d been so focused for so long and suddenly he’d been diverted from that single-mindedness.

She’d been endearingly self-conscious in her black skirt, white shirt and black jacket. Flat shoes. Sheer tights.

He’d wanted her then and he wanted her now. He lowered his head, anticipation prickling across his skin. He’d thought he’d never kiss her again.

Hadn’t wanted to.

But he was being punished for that complacency now, because here he was, as consumed with lust as he had been the first time.

Tension was a tight coil inside Sasha as she waited for Apollo’s mouth to touch hers and she told herself desperately that he’d kissed her before—more than kissed her, so it shouldn’t come as a shock—but when his mouth touched hers, it was more than a shock. It was an earthquake, erupting from her solar plexus and spreading out to every nerve-ending, bringing with it thousands of volts of electricity.

She wasn’t even aware of her hands going to his shirt and clinging on for dear life. His hands were in her hair, angling her head, and their mouths were on fire. She tasted the whisky he’d been drinking and she felt molten and solid all at the same time. It was intoxicating, and nothing could have prepared her for this.

His chest was a steel wall against her breasts. She arched instinctively closer, seeking closer contact. One of his hands moved down, skimming over her arm, around to her back, pressing her even closer.

His arousal pressed against her lower belly and the flood of damp heat between her legs was almost embarrassing. She pressed her thighs together in a bid to stem the rising tide of desire but it was impossible.

But at that very moment Apollo pulled back. It was so sudden that Sasha went with him and he had to steady her, putting his hands on her arms. She opened her eyes, feeling dizzy. Stunned.

She was breathing as if she’d run a race. Her heart was hammering, and a hunger that was new and yet familiar at the same time pounded through her blood, demanding to be satisfied. She felt greedy. Needy.

It took a second for Apollo’s face to come back into focus and when she registered his harsh expression she pulled free of his hands, even though her legs still felt jittery.

He said, ‘That shouldn’t have happened. It was never part of this marriage deal. Go to bed, Sasha, it’s late.’

He turned and left the room and Sasha stared after the empty space for a long minute. She felt too shell-shocked to even be irritated that he’d spoken to her like a child, as if she’d walked into his room and kissed him.

Her skin felt seared alive, her heart was still racing and her whole body was crying out for a fulfilment it knew but couldn’t remember. Her breasts ached and she throbbed between her legs, and that was after just a kiss.

She moved on autopilot, closing the doors to the balcony, slipping out of the robe and under the covers of the bed. She eventually fell into a fitful sleep, with thoughts and dreams full of disjointed, disturbing images.

Apollo stood under the punishing spray of a cold shower for longer than he could almost bear. Eventually he got out and hitched a towel around his waist, catching his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

He looked pained. And he knew it wasn’t from the cold shower. What the hell had he been thinking—going to Sasha’s room? Kissing her? He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem.

It had taken every ounce of his restraint to pull back and not rip apart those flimsy garments, spreading her back on the bed so he could relive the night they’d shared in London. So that he could consummate this marriage.

This marriage was not about consummation or sleeping together. And while he hadn’t wanted her it had been all too easy to forget he had ever wanted her.

You never forgot.

He scowled at his reflection.

But now the floodgates were open. He’d tasted Sasha again and she was as potent as she had been the first time.

He wanted his wife.

But she was the last thing he should want. Especially not when she had the ability to reopen old wounds with just a look from those huge eyes. What he needed was to excise Sasha from his life once and for all.

And for that to happen she needed to regain her memory. The sooner that happened and she reverted to her duplicitous nature, the sooner Apollo could get on with his life and forget she’d ever existed.

What he needed to do now was provide every opportunity to nudge her memory in the right direction.

Sasha was trying to avoid looking at Apollo across the breakfast table on the outdoor terrace. She was still raw after that kiss and gritty-eyed after a mostly sleepless night, broken by disturbing dreams she was afraid to analyse.

The impulse to look, though, was too strong and she glanced his way to see him lifting a small coffee cup to his mouth, his gaze on the paper in his hand. To her intense irritation he looked as if nothing had happened last night. He was as cool and fresh as if he’d enjoyed the sleep of a baby.

He was clean-shaven and the memory of his stubble against her jaw made heat rise up through her body. For a breathless panicky moment she wondered if she’d, in fact, dreamt that kiss, but then he put his paper down and looked at her and the jolt of electricity that went straight to her solar plexus told her that kiss at least hadn’t been a dream. It was of little comfort.

‘We’re going to go to Krisakis for a few days.’

She forced her brain to function. ‘Kris—Where?’

‘It’s the island I own. It’s part of the Cyclades chain of islands. Santorini, Naxos, Paros...’

She’d forgotten that he owned an island.

‘I’m constructing an eco-resort and I need to check progress and meet with some of the designers.’

‘Have I been there before?’

He nodded. ‘I took you there when we first came to Greece.’

Sasha tried to conjure up an image of what the island might be like but her mind stubbornly refused to provide anything.

Right at that moment, after the dreams she’d had last night, she relished the thought of a change of scenery. ‘When do we leave?’

Apollo looked at his watch. ‘In an hour. I’ve instructed Kara to pack some things for you.’

She felt prickly. ‘I can pack my own bag.’

Apollo shrugged. ‘As you wish. I need to make some calls before we go.’ He got up and walked out of the room and Sasha’s breath got stuck in her throat as she watched him go. He was wearing a polo shirt and faded jeans that lovingly hugged his buttocks and thighs.

Rhea bustled into the room and Sasha looked away quickly, mortified to have been caught ogling her husband, but also when she recalled what Apollo had told her about the party she’d hosted.

Taking drugs.

Her conscience wouldn’t let her say nothing, though, and she caught Rhea’s hand before she could clear the plates. The woman looked at her warily. Sasha said, ‘I’m so sorry, Rhea...for what happened. For disrespecting you and this house.’

The older woman’s expression softened. She patted Sasha’s hand awkwardly. ‘Is okay, Kyria Vasilis. Don’t worry.’

She cleared the plates efficiently and left the room. Sasha still felt humiliated but a little lighter.

She stood up to leave the table and on an impulse walked down through the gardens. In spite of the sun, tentacles of those disturbing dreams from last night lingered, making her shiver a little.

The dreams had been shockingly erotic. She’d been on a bed, making love to Apollo. Their naked bodies entwined in the most intimate way possible. He’d held one of her hands over her head, capturing it, and his head had moved down, over her body, his mouth fastening over one nipple, feasting on her tender flesh. She could still feel it now, the delicious pulling, dragging sensation that had gone all the way down to between her legs where he’d pushed them apart with his thigh, opening her up to his body...

But then, abruptly, Sasha had realised that she was no longer in the body on the bed; she was standing apart, looking at him making love to another woman. Not her. But then the woman’s face had been revealed and she’d smiled mockingly at Sasha and Sasha had realised that it was her. But it wasn’t her.

She’d been separated from them by a glass wall. Able to see everything but not feel it. The woman on the bed was an imposter, pretending to be her. And Apollo didn’t realise. She’d watched helplessly as he’d moved his powerful body between the woman’s legs, how she’d opened up for him, and then the moment when he’d thrust deep inside.

The woman’s legs were wrapped around Apollo’s waist and the whole time she’d looked at Sasha and then her mocking smile had turned to nightmarish laughter and that’s when Sasha had woken, sweating and trembling from the force of it, filled with a feeling of doom and betrayal so acrid that she’d felt nauseous.

Sasha shook her head to try and dislodge the images and that horrible feeling of betrayal. But it had felt so real. And it couldn’t be, obviously.

She went back inside, but on her way to the bedroom she passed by her office. She could hear the deep tones of Apollo’s voice through his own office door.

On an impulse she went into the white and fluffy room, still a bit bemused at the thought that she’d insisted on having an office. There was a computer on the desk and she sat down and tapped a key experimentally. It opened automatically in an internet browser.

Wondering how it hadn’t occurred to her before, she put Apollo’s name into the search engine. The first items to pop up were recent deals and headlines like Vasilis and His Midas Touch Strike Again!

Sasha skimmed a recent profile article done for a prominent British financial newspaper where it talked about Apollo’s myriad achievements and rapid rise to stratospheric success. He was also one of the first construction titans to commit to working ethically. Every worker on one of his sites had proper healthcare and insurance and if accidents occurred, workers were rehabilitated and then redeployed either back to where they’d been or to a new area more suited to them.

Consequently, his workers were among the happiest in a normally fickle industry and by holding himself to a higher standard, he was forcing the industry to change around him. He was a trailblazer.

At the end of the article it said:

When asked about his recent marriage to Sasha Miller, Vasilis was curt, saying, ‘My private life is off-limits.’

Sasha felt sick. Unsurprisingly he hadn’t wanted to divulge the details of his marriage of inconvenience to an interviewer.

It only made Sasha want to know more about her own past—what had happened to her to make her behave like that? To trap a man into marriage? She went back into the history of the computer and saw some social media account tabs and clicked on them. But they’d all been logged out and she couldn’t remember the passwords.

For one of the main social accounts she could see a small picture of herself, smiling widely against a glamorous-looking backdrop of a marina. She was wearing more make-up. Her skin was tanned...which must have been fake because she was naturally the colour of a milk bottle. She was holding up a glass of sparkling wine. It sparkled almost as much as the massive diamond on her ring finger. It eclipsed the much plainer gold wedding band. The rings that had gone missing in the accident.

She rubbed her finger absently, imagining them being torn off somehow, but there was no mark on her finger or bruising to indicate what had happened. Something about that niggled at the edges of her memory. A sense that she had seen them somewhere...but not on her hand. But the memory refused to be pinned down. Again.

Sasha touched the picture of her face with a finger, as if that could unlock the secrets of her past.

Nothing.

Nothing except a tiny shiver down her spine. Looking at her face like this reminded her of that dream, because it was like looking at another person.

She turned off the computer, eager to put that image of her face, and the dream, behind her. She saw a drawer in the desk and opened it, vaguely wondering if she might find some other clues to her past.

There was a thick manila envelope inside and she pulled it out. It had her name on it. For some reason, she felt superstitious about looking at the contents but the envelope was open and it was addressed to her.

She pulled out a thick sheaf of papers and read the words at the top of the first page: ‘Application For Mutual Consent Divorce Proceedings Between Apollo Vasilis and Sasha Miller’.

It was dated a few days before the accident.

Sasha started to look through the pages, which weren’t signed yet. They outlined the grounds for divorce. Irreconcilable differences. And non-consummation of the marriage.

They hadn’t slept together.

So he really hadn’t wanted her. But last night...he had. And he hadn’t welcomed it.

‘What are you doing?’

Sasha looked up to see Apollo standing in the doorway. She was too shocked to be embarrassed or feel like he’d caught her doing something illicit.

She held up the document. ‘We were going to divorce?’

‘We were always going to divorce.’

Sasha dropped the document back on the desk. ‘But what about at first...when the baby...?’ She trailed off, realising what she was saying.

He arched a brow, ‘The baby that never existed?’

She flushed guiltily.

‘When I believed you were pregnant we agreed to marry for a year, enough time to have the baby and then reassess the situation.’

Sasha frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Custody.’

She struggled to understand. ‘But presumably as the mother I would have had custody.’

Apollo shook his head. ‘In the pre-nuptial agreement you signed away your right to full custody. You agreed to an arrangement where I would have full custody and I would set you up somewhere close enough for you to see the child on a regular basis.’

Sasha stood up. She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe I would have signed away full rights to my own baby.’

Apollo’s lip curled. ‘Don’t forget there was no baby. I should have guessed something was amiss when you agreed so quickly to that, and when you were more interested in the alimony you would receive in the event of a divorce.’

Sasha remembered what he’d told her last night about how she’d tried to seduce him. To try and get pregnant. She felt sick. And even sicker when she thought of how he’d found her in such a debauched state. Taking drugs.

She forced herself to look at him. ‘That’s when you initiated the divorce, after the party, when you knew I wasn’t pregnant.’

He nodded.

‘Why didn’t you just throw me out, once you knew?’ She would have thrown her out. She felt angry at herself.

‘I considered it. I wanted to. I never wanted to see you again. You disgusted me.’

Sasha felt every word like a little sharp knife to her heart. ‘So why didn’t you?’

‘Because we are married. I couldn’t trust you. I didn’t know what you would do. You could have gone to the papers with some sob story and I have a reputation to maintain. The last thing I needed was adverse press attention.’

‘And then I had the accident.’

He nodded. ‘A few days later, you took one of the cars and disappeared for hours. When you hadn’t returned by dinner-time, Rhea called me and a search was started. You eventually appeared by the side of a road not far from here, further up into the hills.’