Modern Romance May 2020 Books 5-8

CHAPTER THREE

SASHA WENT UPSTAIRS to her bedroom, feeling dazed. She stood in the middle of the room and put her fingers to her mouth, almost as if to test that they hadn’t kissed, it had felt so real, so inevitable. But, no, her mouth was the same. Not swollen. Throbbing with sensation.

Because she knew what that felt like.

It hit her then, like a sledgehammer. She’d wanted it so badly because she knew what it felt like to be kissed by him. That’s why her body had literally ached...from the memory of knowing his touch. Wanting it again.

She sat down on the end of her bed, going cold inside. Thank God he’d pulled back before she’d have been able to articulate her need any more than she already had, silently. She cringed to think of how he’d put his hands on her arms, literally pushing her away.

She realised something else. Maybe she’d craved it so badly because it had felt familiar to her body to be kissed by him. And since everything else around her was so unfamiliar she’d gravitated towards that. A natural response of her body to seek anything familiar?

And exciting, whispered a little voice.

It didn’t give her much relief to put it into this context. A flimsy justification for what had nearly happened.

And with a man who resented her presence and had told her to her face that he didn’t trust her. What kind of a masochist was she?

When Sasha made her way down to breakfast the next morning she felt ragged. She’d woken at dawn, sweaty, tangled in her sheets. Dissatisfied. She’d slept fitfully and her dreams had been full of X-rated images. Images that she couldn’t be sure now were just from her dreams. They’d felt like memories...

When she walked onto the small terrace where she’d eaten breakfast alone all week, she wasn’t prepared to see Apollo. She hadn’t heard his car that morning but she’d still been hoping she might have missed it. But then she realised it was a Saturday so he must be off work.

He looked up at her as he lifted a coffee cup to his mouth, but immediately put it down again and stood up. There was no discernible expression on his face.

She avoided his eye, hating the way her body prickled all over with the same heat she’d felt last night. She almost resented his presence, which was ridiculous when it was his house.

Their house.

But it didn’t feel like her house. ‘Good morning.’

‘Kalimera.’

Sasha sat down and Rhea appeared with coffee, which she poured into a cup for Sasha.

Sasha smiled tentatively at her and said carefully, ‘Efharisto.’

Rhea nodded her head and smiled. When she was gone Apollo said, ‘You’ve been learning Greek?’

Sasha picked up a pastry, anything to avoid looking at Apollo and reliving that moment last night when she’d all but begged him to kiss her. ‘Just a few everyday words. Kara helps me.’

‘You didn’t seem inclined to want to pick it up before.’

Sasha’s knife stilled. She looked at Apollo. ‘Can we agree that perhaps things might be different now? You keep telling me things I did, or the way I was, and I can’t remember any of it. Can we just...go forward from here?’

He looked at her for a long moment. So long that she felt her face get hot. Eventually he inclined his head. ‘Very well. That’s fair.’

Sasha breathed out.

‘How are you feeling now? Physically?’

She took a gulp of coffee, composing herself. ‘I’m fine...much better. Physically.’ She made a face. ‘Mentally...the fogginess has gone but now it’s just a great big blank.’

And the way you make me feel like I’m plugged into some hot electrical force.

She clamped her mouth shut in case the words fell out.

Apollo wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘I’ve arranged for the doctor to come this morning to check you over.’

Sasha’s gut clenched. Was he trying to get rid of her? What would happen once she was well enough? Why did she feel sick at the prospect when he obviously resented her presence? Impulsively she asked, ‘Was it ever good? Between us?’

Apollo put his hand on the table, face unreadable. ‘Briefly.’

The thought of him wanting her as much as she’d wanted him last night was too overwhelming to contemplate for a moment. She struggled to understand. ‘But...then why—?’

‘Didn’t it work?’ His voice was harsh.

Sasha nodded. Just at that moment Rhea appeared and Sasha cursed the interruption.

Rhea said, ‘The doctor is here to see Kyria Vasilis.’

Apollo looked at Rhea and smiled. A proper smile. The first smile Sasha had seen on his face. Her heart flip-flopped. It transformed him from merely gorgeous to devastating.

But then he looked back at her and it faded. Sasha felt a chill breeze up her spine. He really hated her. For whatever she had done. And a moment ago she’d been ready to hear it but now she was glad of the interruption.

‘Physically you’ve made a remarkable recovery, Mrs Vasilis. Emotionally, how are you doing?’

Sasha tucked her shirt back into her trousers. The doctor had seen her in her bedroom. The same kind female doctor who had attended to her in the hospital after the accident.

She sat down on a chair by the writing desk, aware of the doctor’s keen dark eyes on her. ‘I’m... I guess I’m okay. Getting used to my life.’

And the husband who doesn’t want me here.

The doctor nodded. ‘I can imagine it’ll take some adjustment. And your memory...anything coming back yet?’

Sasha shook her head. ‘Not really. It’s just all blank. But I had dreams last night.’ She stopped, blushing.

The doctor said, ‘Go on, my dear.’

Embarrassed to have mentioned this, Sasha said, ‘It’s just that they felt like memories more than a dream. Of me and my husband.’

The doctor nodded. ‘That could very well be the case. I’d advise you to keep a notebook by the bed, write down your dreams and that could help jog something. But don’t put too much pressure on yourself, our minds work in mysterious ways.’

The doctor stood up and Sasha stood too. ‘There was something else.’

‘Oh?’ The doctor was putting things back into her bag. She stopped.

‘I just... My husband tells me that I’m behaving differently from how I was before. Would that be normal?’

The doctor considered this and then said slowly, ‘It has been known...for head trauma injuries to cause some kind of personality change but we saw no indication of such trauma in your brain scan. You just got a very hard knock to the head. It’s just going to take time to readjust to your life, Mrs Vasilis. Don’t worry, and let me know as soon as there are any developments with your memory.’

By the time Sasha had waved the doctor off, it was late morning. She turned around to see Kara adjusting a vase of exotic blooms on the table in the middle of the hall. Sasha walked over, ‘Have you seen Apo—my husband?’

Kara nodded, ‘He left a little while ago for the office. He said to tell you he’d be home later this afternoon.’

‘Oh.’ Silly to feel so disappointed. She wasn’t even sure what she would have done if he had been here.

Feeling her way, she said, ‘He seems to work a lot.’

Kara looked at her and rolled her eyes. ‘Always he is working. Morning, noon and night, except before we thought it was because—’

Suddenly she stopped and Sasha felt a burn of humiliation rise up inside her.

To get away from her?

She swallowed it down. ‘Thank you, Kara. The truth is I’m not sure what to do with myself. What did I normally do?’

Kara avoided her eye, clearly embarrassed. ‘You liked shopping, a lot.’ Sasha’s heart sank at the thought of shopping. What could she possibly need?

‘Was there anything else?’

The young girl’s face brightened. ‘You could go and lie by the pool, you like that.’

‘I do?’

Apollo walked into the gardens towards the pool, where he’d been told Sasha had been all afternoon. Maybe she’d finally cracked and was showing her true colours again. He’d found her by the pool countless times before, surrounded by the detritus of afternoon snacks and sugary drinks. Dog-eared magazines.

Once he’d questioned whether it was good for her, but that had been before he’d found out about—He came to an abrupt standstill as he rounded the bush that artfully hid the pool from prying eyes.

Apollo lifted his sunglasses onto his head. Sasha lay on a sun bed under an umbrella. At first he thought she was naked and his blood rushed straight to his groin. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’d habitually sunbathed topless, scandalising Rhea. Trying to tempt him. Not that it had worked.

But, no, he realised she wasn’t naked. She wasn’t far from it though, in a flesh-coloured one-piece, which was low-cut enough to reveal the plump pale flesh of her breasts. He could already imagine what it might look like if she stepped out of the pool, her red hair slicked back like a wet flame down her back. The clingy material would leave nothing to the imagination. The way her nipples would have gone hard in the water, pressing against the—

Christos.

Disgusted at his lack of control, Apollo tore his gaze off his wife’s body. There was no detritus around her. Just a book. And a glass of water.

He could still recall how close he’d come to hauling her against his body last night, crushing that rosebud mouth under his. He could try to convince himself that he’d just been testing her, but he knew his motivations went much deeper and darker than that.

He wanted her again.

When his assistant in London had told him that she was waiting to see him three months ago, a month had passed since their night together. She’d been on his mind constantly, especially at night, when he’d got used to waking from erotic dreams, aching with frustration.

He’d taken more cold showers in that period than he’d ever taken in his whole life.

And he hadn’t been able to stem the tide of something that had felt a lot like...relief. That she’d been the one to make the move. To expose herself for wanting more.

But then as soon as she’d walked into his office that day, he’d felt...nothing. Less than nothing. Not a blip of response. Even though she’d looked exactly the same. Fresh face. Hair loose around her shoulders. Innocent. Tremulous.

He hated to admit it now but relief his desire for her had waned hadn’t been the overriding sentiment. It had been a sense of disappointment. Because it was proof that she wasn’t different from any other woman he’d slept with. And that what they’d shared that night couldn’t have possibly been as amazing as he’d remembered it. Amazing enough to make him regret telling her—

Suddenly her body jerked on the bed and a sound came out of her mouth, like a cry. Indistinct words. Something like, ‘No, please don’t stop!’

Before Apollo knew what he was doing he’d come down beside the bed, two hands on Sasha’s bare arms. They felt impossibly slender. Her body was tense all over, he could see a slight sheen of perspiration on her skin. His insides clenched with an emotion he didn’t want to name.

‘Sasha...wake up.’

Apollo’s hands were on her skin. Burning. She ached all over with a hunger she’d felt only once before. It was so clear now. She needed him to assuage that hunger...to make her come alive—

‘Sasha!’

Sasha opened her eyes and all she could see were the deepest pools of green. A kind of green that made her think of mysterious oceans. Vast. Impenetrable.

‘You were dreaming.’

Apollo’s voice. Hard. Unyielding. Suddenly Sasha’s consciousness snapped back. She was on the lounger. She’d fallen asleep. But Apollo still had his hands on her. She could smell his scent. See the stubble on his jaw. She wanted to reach out and see how it felt. She imagined it would prickle against her skin.

She remembered how that felt.

Dreams and the present moment were meshing disturbingly and she felt disorientated.

She sat up abruptly, dislodging his hands. He stood up. She reached for the robe, pulling it on awkwardly, very conscious of the revealing swimsuit. It had been the only one-piece she could find in a sea of brightly coloured string bikinis.

‘Apollo, I didn’t hear you. What time is it?’

Sasha looked deliciously tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes sleepy. Apollo gritted his jaw as his eyes tracked her movements, her small breasts high and firm under the stretchy material. She was so pale her skin was almost translucent. He frowned. She’d been more tanned before. But, of course, it must have been fake. A welcome reminder of who he was dealing with. Memory loss or no memory loss.

The lingering tendrils of concern for her distress made his voice harsh. ‘You should watch yourself in the sun,’ he said. ‘You can burn even in the shade.’

Sasha flinched inwardly at his abrupt tone, belting the robe tightly around her. The robe chafed against her tingling skin. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her arms. Defensively she said, ‘I found sun block in the bathroom, of course I put some on. I may have lost my memory but I’m not clueless about the dangers of the sun.’

She risked looking up at Apollo now that she was covered up again, diverting her mind from the vividly disturbing dream. He was wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt and cargo shorts. Unexpectedly casual and effortlessly sexy.

He said, ‘I just came to tell you that I’m going out this evening.’

‘Oh.’ It was strange but for the first time she was aware she hadn’t left the confines of this estate since her return from the hospital. She had a sense of claustrophobia. ‘Where are you going?’

‘It’s a charity ball, in aid of research into cancer.’

For some reason that struck a chord with Sasha and for a moment something hovered on the edge of her mind but then it was gone.

She stood up. ‘Should I come with you?’

He shook his head. ‘No need. I’m just letting you know I won’t be here for dinner.’

It wasn’t as if they’d been having cosy dinners all week but Apollo was the only constant familiar thing in her world right now and she was determined to try and improve relations. What else could she do? She couldn’t continue to exist in this limbo where they circled each other like suspicious foes.

She still didn’t know exactly what had happened between them and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know what she’d done to lead to this impasse, but she could work with what she had. She wanted to at least try to mend bridges.

‘Didn’t I go to events with you? As your wife?’

Apollo searched for any hint of a crack in her facade but she looked utterly guileless. Did she really not remember saying to him, ‘Why not use me? Surely it’s better for you to be seen with a wife than not? It’ll help your business to be seen as more settled.’

When they’d married, he hadn’t had any intention of involving her in his life more than he’d had to, but he’d had to admit that on some level she was right. And so he’d taken her to a couple of events.

Sasha was looking at him now. ‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘You don’t remember?’

She went pale. ‘No. What did I do?’

‘Let’s just say that you ruffled some feathers.’

‘How?’

‘You were rude to staff and visibly bored when you realised that the social and corporate events I attend aren’t generally designed for entertainment purposes.’

Sasha felt queasy. Was there anything she had done right? ‘I can’t keep apologising for things I can’t remember. But maybe this is an opportunity to make it up to you. No matter what I did, won’t your friends and colleagues be wondering where your wife is?’

He didn’t refute her question so she asked, ‘What time do you have to leave? It won’t take me long to get ready.’

He arched a brow. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ He put his sunglasses back over his eyes and without that laser-like gaze stripping her bare she breathed easier.

‘I have to leave in an hour. If you’re coming, be downstairs waiting for me, or I go alone. I won’t wait, Sasha.’

Less than an hour later, Sasha waited nervously downstairs in the main hall for Apollo. After his ultimatum she’d panicked. She had no idea how on earth to get ready for such an event. She’d found Kara in the kitchen and had begged the young woman to come with her to help her. Initially she had been reluctant but then she’d relented, telling Sasha that Apollo had asked for his tuxedo to be ready for him so at least they knew it was black-tie.

They’d managed to find a dress that was suitable and not too revealing, and Kara had helped with her hair and make-up. And now Sasha stood here, wondering what on earth she’d been doing, saying she’d go along to an event—she had no idea if she would be able to handle herself in such a milieu. She’d been serving drinks when she’d met him, not drinking them!

She would make a fool of herself and any hope she had of redeeming herself in Apollo’s eyes would be gone. And what deeper impulse was whispering to her to look for redemption? Then what? Did she want him to like her again?

Want her again?

Panic gripped her. She couldn’t do this. She turned to flee back to her room before Apollo saw her—he’d obviously not expected her to be ready anyway. But it was too late. He was at the top of the stairs and staring at her as if she were a total stranger. Her own eyes widened and her chest constricted as the air rushed out.

He was wearing a classic black tuxedo. White shirt, black bow-tie. She was not prepared for his impact on her. And yet she’d seen him like this before, the first night they’d met. A vivid flashback assailed her before she knew what was happening—Apollo had been helping her with her heavy tray of drinks and she’d been laughing and getting hot with embarrassment. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. If my boss sees you helping me, I’ll get into trouble.’

He’d kept hold of the tray, ‘I’m not letting go unless you agree to come for a drink with me afterwards.’

She’d seen her boss then, across the room, clocking her. Terrified she’d lose the job, she’d said, ‘Okay, fine! Now, please...let me go.’

That memory faded but, as easily as if it had been there all the time, just hiding behind a curtain, she now remembered that evening, and fragmented images from another evening, a date...going for dinner with him in a beautiful restaurant in a tall glittering building with London laid out before them, a sea of twinkling lights... She’d been so excited. Nervous. Incredulous.

Happy...

Apollo couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sasha, waiting for him. Ready. And looking presentable. More than presentable.

Beautiful.

She was wearing a black silk one-shouldered dress, with ornate silk flowers trailing over one shoulder. Cut on the bias, the dress fell in soft billowing folds to the floor.

A braid framed one side of her face and her hair was pulled back into a low bun. It was all at once pretty and youthful but also elegant. Discreet diamonds shone in her ears. Her hands and throat were bare. Her make-up was minimal.

The starkness of the black dress only served to highlight her delicate fair colouring. Those vivid blue eyes. It was a far cry from her usual style, which was showing as much skin as possible, with lots of make-up, jewellery and big hair.

Desire pulled taut like a drum inside him. He had to force himself to move down the stairs. When he got close, her eyes were huge, on him, as if she’d never seen him before. She looked pale and he could see that her fingers were holding her clutch bag so tight her knuckles were white.

‘What is it? Are you okay?’

She swallowed and nodded jerkily. She sounded a bit breathless. ‘I just... I just remembered London. More about that night we met. And another night?’

He nodded slowly. ‘I took you out the following evening for dinner.’

‘We were in a building...it looked like a piece of broken glass.’

‘The Shard?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. I still don’t remember much else beyond that building, the view...but it’s a start.’

Something uneasy moved through Apollo. If she was acting then she’d gone beyond a point that most people could keep up a pretence. He said carefully, ‘That’s good.’

A little colour came back into her cheeks and now she looked nervous. She gestured to the dress. ‘Is this okay? I wasn’t sure... Kara helped me.’

‘Kara?’

She nodded and then looked worried. ‘Is that a problem? Shouldn’t I have asked her?’

Apollo, for the first time, had to bite back a smile. ‘On the contrary, she tried to help you before but you insisted on getting in a professional stylist.’

Sasha looked tortured. ‘I had no idea. I should apologise.’ She made to go towards the kitchen but Apollo caught her hand, aware of how small it felt in his.

‘It’s not that big a deal, you can tell her another time.’ But he couldn’t seem to let her hand go. His gaze swept up and down, taking in the way the swells of her breasts pushed against the thin fabric of the dress. He wondered if she was wearing a bra—imagined cupping one firm weight in his hand, feeling the stab of her nipple—He shut down his rogue imagination and let her hand go. ‘We should leave, or we’ll be late.’