About the Authors

Irish author ABBY GREEN ended a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com or email abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.

Canadian DANI COLLINS knew in high school that she wanted to write romance for a living. Twenty-five years later, after marrying her high school sweetheart, having two kids with him, working at several generic office jobs and submitting countless manuscripts, she got The Call. Her first Mills & Boon novel won the Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best First in Series from RT Book Reviews. She now works in her own office, writing romance.

Also by Abby Green

The Virgin’s Debt to Pay

Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

An Innocent, A Seduction, A Secret

Awakened by the Scarred Italian

Rival Spanish Brothers miniseries

Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

Redeemed by His Stolen Bride

Rulers of the Desert miniseries

A Diamond for the Sheikh’s Mistress

A Christmas Bride for the King

Also by Dani Collins

Claiming His Christmas Wife

Untouched Until Her Ultra-Rich Husband

Cinderella’s Royal Seduction

Bound to the Desert King collection

Sheikh’s Princess of Convenience

Innocents for Billionaires miniseries

A Virgin to Redeem the Billionaire

Innocent’s Nine-Month Scandal

The Montero Baby Scandals miniseries

The Consequence He Must Claim

The Maid’s Spanish Secret

Bound by Their Nine-Month Scandal

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Greek’s Unknown Bride

Abby Green

A Hidden Heir to Redeem Him

Dani Collins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90023-6

THE GREEK’S UNKNOWN BRIDE & A HIDDEN HEIR TO REDEEM HIM

The Greek’s Unknown Bride © 2020 Abby Green A Hidden Heir to Redeem Him © 2020 Dani Collins

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

The Greek’s Unknown Bride

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

A Hidden Heir to Redeem Him

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

The Greek’s Unknown Bride

Abby Green

She doesn’t recognize her husband

But her body does…

Sasha’s life changes beyond recognition after a shocking accident—her amnesia has made sure of that. She can’t even remember marrying Apollo, her devastatingly handsome Greek husband! Although she does remember their intimate, searing passion…

Then Sasha discovers the truth behind their less-than-perfect marriage and is left with more questions than ever. Why can she remember only one night with Apollo? Why does their undeniable connection trouble him so? And is their tempestuous marriage strong enough to withstand revelations from her past…?

This is for Orwell, my fluffy little shadow, who enriches my life and provides vital moral support when I’m banging my head off the keyboard. Even if he is on his back, paws in the air, snoring softly.

CHAPTER ONE

APOLLO VASILIS STARED out of the window at the ornamental lake set in lush grounds. Athens lay under a hazy smog in the distance, and the sea was a barely perceptible line on the horizon. But he noticed none of that. His arms were folded tightly across his chest and tension wound like a vice inside his body. A tension he’d been feeling for months now. Three months, to be precise.

There was a faint rhythmic beep-beep coming from behind him and suddenly it changed. Skipped a beat, and became slightly faster. Heart rate increasing. She was waking up. Finally.

He turned around. A woman lay on a raised bed. She was as pale as the sheets underneath her. Rose-gold hair spread around her head. There was a gauze dressing on her forehead, over her right eye.

There were bandages around one arm. A scratch down her left cheek. All in all, minor cuts and bruises. A miracle, considering the car that she’d been driving was at the bottom of a narrow ravine about one hundred metres deep, a charred mass of black twisted metal.

He moved closer to the bed. Her almost blonde lashes were so long they cast faint shadows on her cheeks. Her brows were darker, finely etched. He frowned. Her face looked…thinner. The bones of her cheeks were standing out more prominently than he seemed to remember.

But then…looking at this woman in any kind of forensic detail was not something he’d done lately.

Not since he’d looked at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Four months ago, when they’d first met. When her naked body had filled his vision and made his blood roar so loudly it had deafened him.

He could still see her body now as if the image had been burned onto his brain. The small but perfectly formed breasts. Flat belly, gently curved hips. The cluster of tight reddish curls at the apex of her legs. Slender limbs. She’d looked so delicate and yet when he’d joined his body to hers, he’d felt the innate steely strength of her and it had been the most erotic experience of his life.

To Apollo’s surprise and consternation, a heat he hadn’t felt in months flooded his veins. He rejected it utterly. This woman had deceived him in the worst way possible.

He despised her.

At that same moment that her eyelids fluttered, the door opened and the doctor and a couple of nurses entered. The female doctor looked at Apollo. ‘I need to remind you not to expect too much at first. The extent of the injury to her head can only really be ascertained once she regains consciousness.’

Apollo nodded curtly, and watched as they tended to the machines around the bed. The doctor sat down beside the woman and took her hand. ‘My dear, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?’

Apollo could see movement behind the delicate eyelids. For a second he found himself holding his breath as her eyelids fluttered again. As if, for a moment, he’d forgotten, and a small part of him actually cared if his wife woke up or not.

She could hear the voice coming from far away. It was like a buzzing bee, distracting her, tugging her away from the lovely cloak of darkness surrounding her in blissful silence and peace.

A pressure, on her hand. The voice. Louder now. She couldn’t make out words, just intonation. Mmm. Mmm!

She tried to swat away the pressure but it only got stronger. A brightness was pricking at her eyes, pushing away the darkness. Her head felt so thick…fuzzy. Heavy.

And then, as if a curtain had been pulled back, very clearly she heard a sharp voice. ‘Mrs Vasilis, it’s time to wake up.’

For a second she lamented leaving the peaceful darkness behind but she knew she had no choice but to follow the voice. She understood the words but they didn’t make much sense to her… Mrs…?

She opened her eyes and light exploded onto her retinas, making her shut them tightly again. She became aware that she was lying in a bed. She could sense the flurry of activity around her. And also, disturbingly, the fact that in that split second she’d noticed a tall dark shape looming at the end of the bed.

A shape that was familiar and made her heart pound for no reason she could understand.

‘Mrs Vasilis, can you try opening your eyes again? We’ve lowered the blinds to make it easier.’

Experimentally, she cracked her eyes open again and this time it didn’t hurt so much. The face of a woman she didn’t know came into focus. There were a couple of other women, also strangers. They all had dark hair and dark eyes. There was a humming noise and rhythmic beeping of machines. White everywhere. Antiseptic smell.

A word popped into her mind: hospital.

There was movement in her peripheral vision and she looked towards the end of the bed. The tall dark shape was a man. She knew him. ‘A-A…’ Her voice cracked like rust. She tried again. ‘Apollo?’

‘That’s good.’

She barely noticed the relief evident in the doctor’s voice as she took in the man at the end of the bed. He wore a dark long-sleeved top. Round neck. Soft material. Broad shoulders and chest. Powerful. But not overly muscular. Lean.

Short dark hair. Strong masculine features. Deep-set eyes. Green eyes. She knew this, even though she couldn’t see their colour properly from here. Strong jaw. Stubble. Firm mouth. Hot, on hers. A shiver went through her. She’d been kissed by this man.

She felt her hand being pressed. The doctor’s voice. ‘You know who this man is?’

It was hard for her to tear her gaze away from him, as if she was afraid he might disappear. She nodded. ‘Yes…we just met, the other night. At a function.’ He frowned slightly, but she barely noticed as heat crept into her cheeks, remembering seeing him for the first time. How he’d stopped her in her tracks with his breath-taking beauty and charisma, wearing a tuxedo that had been moulded to his powerful body like a second skin.

He’d looked bored. People had hovered around him but at a distance as if too intimidated to get close.

And then their eyes had met and… Bam! Her heart had somersaulted in her chest and she’d never been the same since…

Slowly it was sinking in that she was in a hospital. But what was she doing here? With a man she barely knew?

But you do know him. Intimately.

She felt it in her bones, like a deep knowing. But how did she know this if she’d only just met him? She tried to latch onto the question to find the answer but it skittered out of her grasp.

Confusion clouded her brain and for the first time she had a sense that something was very wrong. A tendril of fear…or panic…coiled in her belly. She looked at the doctor. ‘What’s happening? Why am I here?’

As she said the word I, she stopped. I. Nothing. Blank. A void. The fear grew. ‘Wait… I don’t know…who I am… Who am I?’

Then something popped into her head. The doctor had called her… ‘You said Mrs Vasilis…’

The doctor looked at her with an expression that was hard to decipher. ‘Because you are Mrs Vasilis. Sasha Vasilis.’

Sasha. It felt wrong. Not her. ‘I don’t think that’s my name.’

‘What is your name?’

Blank. Nothing. Frustration.

The doctor spoke again. Soothingly. ‘Sasha. Your name is Sasha and you are married to this man, Apollo Vasilis.’

She looked at the man again. He was definitely frowning now and he didn’t look particularly happy to be married to her. She shook her head briefly but it caused a sharp pain over her eye. She stopped. ‘But that can’t be possible, we just met.’

So, if you just met, how can you know him intimately? How can you be married?

A headache was forming, right between her eyes. A dull throb. As if sensing this, the doctor said briskly, ‘That’s enough for now, she needs to rest. We can come back later.’

A nurse stepped forward and did something to a drip beside the bed. Soon that comforting blackness was enveloping her in its warm embrace again and she eagerly shut out the growing panic and fear, and disturbing questions. And him, the most disturbing thing of all, and she wasn’t even sure why.

Two days later

‘We think your memory loss came from the traumatic experience of the crash. There’s no perceptible or obvious injury to your brain that we can see after the scans we did, but you can only remember meeting your husband for the first time and nothing else. Nothing from before or after. Sometimes the brain does this as a form of protection when an event occurs. We’ve no reason not to believe that in time your memory will return. It could come in small pieces, like a jigsaw coming together, or it could happen all at once.’

Or it might not happen at all?

She was too scared to voice that out loud.

‘Which is why…’ here the doctor looked expressively at Apollo Vasilis, who was a forbidding presence as he stood by the window with his arms folded ‘…you need to be monitored closely while you recuperate.’

The doctor looked back at Sasha, who still didn’t feel like a Sasha. ‘Don’t worry too much about trying to make your memory come back. You need to focus on recovering from your injuries. I’m sure everything will return to full functionality.’

Sasha wondered what her brain was protecting her from.

The doctor stood up. ‘You can go home now. We’ll keep in touch to monitor your progress and let us know as soon as you start to remember anything.’

That felt like a very dim and distant possibility. Her brain still felt as if it was just a dense mass of grey fog. Impossible to penetrate. And where was home? The doctor had told her she was English, so presumably she’d been born and brought up there.

When she’d enquired about family, her husband had told her that her parents were dead and she had no siblings. Just like that. Stark and unvarnished. She’d felt an ache in her chest near her heart but when she couldn’t put names or faces to her parents it was hard to feel profound grief.

The doctor left now and Sasha looked at Apollo Vasilis. Her husband. He looked as grim as he had when she’d regained consciousness. Wasn’t he pleased she’d survived the accident? He wore a three-piece suit today, steel grey, with a tie. He oozed urbane sophistication but Sasha sensed the tightly wound energy in his body. As if he was ready to cast off the trappings of civility to reveal a much more elemental man underneath.

Ironically, the one memory she did have, of the night they’d met, she remembered him smiling. Laughing even. His face transformed from breath-taking to devastatingly gorgeous. She remembered his voice. Deep and accented.

Except she’d been told that that night had been four months ago. And since then they’d been married. And she’d apparently moved to Greece from England. It was all too huge to absorb and Sasha found herself avoiding thinking about it too much.

‘Are you ready? The car is waiting outside.’

Was she ready? To leave here with a man who was little more than a stranger to her? In a foreign land she had no memory of coming to? But she nodded once, briefly, and stood up, her limbs still feeling a little weak.

Apollo picked up a bag. He’d brought her clothes to change into and they only compounded her sense of disorientation because she couldn’t imagine choosing clothes like this. Flared cream-coloured silk trousers with slits up each side, a matching silk singlet top and a cropped blazer jacket. Spindly high-heel sandals that made her feel even more wobbly.

He opened the door and stood back. Sasha locked her limbs and walked out of the room with as much grace as she could muster.

Apollo walked down the corridor beside his wife. She was walking slowly, as if she’d never worn high heels before, with all the grace of a spindly-legged foal. Which was bizarre because the only time he could recall ever seeing her in flat shoes had been when they’d met that first night.

She stumbled a little and he took her elbow to steady her. She glanced up at him, her cheeks a little pink. ‘Thank you.’

Her hair was down around her shoulders in soft natural waves that he knew she usually preferred to be straightened.

‘It’s nothing.’ He gritted his jaw at his body’s reaction to the feel of her arm under his hand, her slender body brushing against his ever so slightly. She wasn’t wearing the scent she usually did. He’d watched her take it out of the bag earlier and she’d tested it on her wrist, immediately scrunching up her nose. She’d looked at him. ‘This is my perfume?’

He’d nodded. Privately he’d always had the same reaction when he’d smelled it. To recoil. It was too overpowering. Sickly sweet. She’d put it back without spraying any.

But now all he could smell was her. Soap and something uniquely and mysteriously feminine. Her scent reminded him uncomfortably again of meeting her for the first time when he’d been blown away by her fresh-faced beauty. Her impact on him had been like a punch to his solar plexus, driving the breath out of his lungs.

And to this day he couldn’t figure it out. He’d seen plenty of women who were more beautiful than Sasha. Slept with them too. But something about her, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, had got to him. Captivating him. As much as he hated to admit it.

She’d seduced him with her wide-eyed act of innocence, and had then trapped him with the oldest trick in the book. The burn of that transgression and the burn of his momentary weakness for her was like permanent bile in his gut.

His desire for her had dissipated as quickly as it had blown up, and he’d welcomed it, in light of her betrayal, but now it was back, as if to mock him for ever believing he’d had it under his control.

She was playing him all over again but this time he wouldn’t stand for it.

Sasha winced as Apollo’s fingers tightened almost painfully on her arm. She tried to pull away and he looked at her. ‘I’m okay now, you can let go.’

Instantly his expression blanked and he took his hand away, saying smoothly, ‘My car is here, just outside the door.’

Sasha saw a sleek silver SUV waiting for them, with a driver holding the open back door. It reinforced her sense of being in an alternate dimension where nothing made much sense.

She stepped out of the hospital and gulped in fresh air, hoping that might make her feel more grounded. The Greek sun was warm but the early summer air wasn’t too humid yet.

Sasha climbed into the car. Her shoes were pinching painfully after only walking a few feet. She couldn’t believe that she wore this kind of shoe on a regular basis.

Or… She slid a look at Apollo, as he got into the back of the car on the other side, maybe Apollo liked them and she wore them to please him?

That thought sent another shiver through her. The thought of pleasing him. Except, if the frosty vibes were anything to go by, he wasn’t pleased and she had no idea why.

The car pulled away from the hospital and Apollo exchanged a few words in Greek with the driver, who then put up the privacy partition. Sasha was so aware of him it was as if an outer layer of skin had been removed.

A hand rested on one thigh. Square, masculine. Long fingers. Blunt nails. His suit looked as if it had been made specifically to hug his muscles and emphasise his powerful physique. He looked at her and she didn’t have time to pretend she wasn’t ogling him.

‘Okay?’

She nodded. It was a civil question but the tension was palpable. Instead of asking a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to, she asked, ‘Where are we going now?’

‘The villa. It’s not far from here.’

‘Have I lived there long?’

‘For the past three months, since we married.’

‘Where did we marry?’ It suddenly struck Sasha at that moment that, if not for the fact that this man had turned up to claim her after the accident, when apparently she’d been found wandering by the road in a disorientated state a day and night after being reported missing, he could be anyone.

He looked at her for such a long and assessing moment that she could feel heat creeping back into her cheeks but then he plucked a small sleek phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen and handed it to her. ‘We married in Athens in a civil ceremony.’

She looked at the screen of the phone. On it was a link to an official press release announcing their marriage with an accompanying picture. Sasha enlarged it. It was her. But it didn’t feel like her. She wore a knee-length floaty silk sleeveless dress, cut on the bias and slashed almost to the navel. Eye-wateringly high heels. Her hair was teased into big curls and she seemed to be wearing a lot of make-up. Gold jewellery. An enormous-looking diamond ring. She felt a rush of exposure and embarrassment when she looked at the picture. And then she looked down at her bare fingers. ‘Did I have rings?’

‘Yes. The doctors said you must have lost them in the accident.’

She looked at Apollo. ‘I hope they weren’t too valuable.’

He gave her a funny look. ‘Don’t worry, they were insured.’

Sasha looked back at the picture on the phone. She was clutching Apollo’s arm and beaming; however, her new husband looked anything but happy in the picture. The memory she had of him smiling had to be a figment of her imagination. A conjured-up image.

She skimmed the press release.

Apollo Vasilis, Greek construction tycoon, weds his English girlfriend Sasha Miller in a private civil ceremony.

The bare minimum of information. Sasha handed the phone back, feeling even more disorientated. A million questions buzzed in her head but she could feel a headache starting and the doctor had told her not to overdo things.

She looked out the window and saw glimpses of huge houses set in verdant grounds behind tall wrought-iron gates or massive walls. Clearly this was a wealthy area.

Before long the car turned in towards a massive pair of wrought-iron gates. They opened mechanically and a man in little security hut outside waved them in after a few words with the driver.

Sasha stared out the window in awe as lush grounds opened up around them. The driveway led up to a massive courtyard and a two-storey villa-style house with steps leading up to the front door where a woman in a uniform was waiting.

Apollo got out when the car had stopped at the bottom of the steps and before Sasha could figure out where the handle was, the door was being opened and she saw his large hand extending towards her.

She had no choice but to put her hand in his and her skin prickled with a kind of foreboding, as if her body knew it would react in a certain way and she had no idea what to expect.

Yes, you do.

Her hand touched his and an electric jolt went right through her. Reflexively her fingers curled around his. Face flaming at her reaction, she let him help her from the car and as soon as she could, she snatched her hand back.

Her reaction to him on top of the fog in her brain was too much. She resolved not to touch him again if she could help it and then that little voice reminded her that they were married.

She stopped at the bottom of the steps at the thought that they must be sharing a room. A bed. Her heart seemed to triple its rate. Apollo was almost at the top of the steps. He turned around and she saw a look of something almost like impatience cross his face.

‘Sasha?’

She thought furiously as she climbed the steps, taking care in the impractical shoes. Maybe she could suggest they sleep separately until her memory returned? Surely he wouldn’t expect her to share his bed when she felt as if she hardly knew him? No matter what her body might be telling her.

At the top of the steps was the older woman in the uniform. She was a stranger to Sasha. And she didn’t look welcoming. Dark hair pulled back and a matronly bosom. She seemed to be eyeing Sasha warily, as if waiting for her to do something unexpected.

Sasha stepped forward and held out a hand. ‘Hello.’ The woman flinched minutely and then she glanced at Apollo and seemed to get some kind of sign because she looked back at Sasha and took her hand, saying in heavily accented Greek, ‘Welcome home, Kyria Vasilis.’

Sasha felt a light touch on her back that distracted her from the woman’s odd reaction. ‘You don’t remember Rhea?’

She shook her head, ‘I’m so sorry, but no.’

The women let her hand go, eyes widening. Apollo said, ‘I’ll show my wife around the villa. We’ll eat something light in a couple of hours, Rhea. On the smaller terrace.’

The woman nodded and disappeared into the villa. Sasha looked into the massive circular reception area. She felt absolutely sure, at that moment, that she’d never seen these marble floors or set foot in this place before.

Which was wrong. She’d been living here. She obviously couldn’t trust her own instincts.

She stepped over the threshold warily, and followed Apollo as he led her into the first of a dizzying array of rooms leading off the circular hall. There was a formal reception room, informal reception room. Formal dining room, informal dining room.

The rooms were all furnished with sumptuous but elegant furniture. Muted colours in varying but complementary shades in each room. It was modern but felt classic. Huge canvases adorned the walls and antiques nestled among more modern artefacts.

Each room had huge French doors that led out to a terrace that ran the length of the house, overlooking the impressive garden. Even more impressive was the view of Athens in the distance.

Sasha walked out of the formal dining room onto the terrace. They were far above the teeming ancient city, the air heavy with the scent of the flowers that climbed the wall of the terrace in colourful profusion. She tried desperately to conjure up a memory of having looked at this view from here before, but her mind stayed blank. Apollo came and stood beside her on the terrace and her skin prickled. Sasha asked, ‘Is this an old house?’

‘No, I built it on this site.’

Sasha looked at him. ‘You built it?’

His jaw tightened. ‘Not me personally. My construction company.’

Sasha turned to face him. ‘So…you own a construction company?’

He looked at her and nodded. ‘Vasilis Construction.’

Sasha frowned. ‘Is it a family business—do you have family?’

An expression flashed across his face so fast she couldn’t decipher it but it had looked for a second like pain. ‘My family are dead. A long time ago. My father was in construction but he worked for someone else so, no, it’s not a family business.’

‘I’m sorry to hear your family are gone.’ Both their families were dead. ‘What happened?’

For a long moment she thought he wouldn’t answer and then he said, ‘A series of unfortunate events.’

He stepped back. ‘Let me show you the rest of the villa.’

Sasha pushed aside her curiosity about ‘a series of unfortunate events’ and followed the broad shoulders of her husband as he led her back into the hall and up a majestic flight of stairs. Villa seemed like an ineffectual word for what was, clearly, a luxurious mansion.

She wondered what it must have been like to come here with her new husband for the first time. A small voice pointed out that she was getting to relive that experience right now. Except, she wondered, had he been any warmer the first time round?

The villa retained that modern but classic feel throughout. Little touches of period features to give it a sense of timelessness.

In the basement there was a state-of-the-art gym and media room, which could convert into a home cinema. On the same level there was a lap pool and steam and sauna room. Not to mention the extra rooms for massage and treatments that opened out onto a lower-level garden with a couple of sun loungers and a hammock hung between two trees.

Apollo waved a hand towards the gardens, ‘There’s also an outdoor pool and changing area.’

He showed her his study on the first floor. A very masculine room with walls lined with shelves and books. Across the hall he opened another door and said, ‘This is your office.’

She couldn’t contain her surprise. ‘I had an office?’

He put out a hand and she went in, not sure why she suddenly felt reluctant. The room was pretty but overdone. A plush white carpet and a white desk were the simplest things in the room. There was an expensive-looking computer on the desk.

The walls were covered with flowery chintzy wallpaper and there were framed prints of the covers of glossy magazines on the wall. Lots of shelves that were mainly empty. A handful of books.

A pink velvet chair and matching footstool. It looked as if it hadn’t been touched.

‘What did I use this for?’

Apollo was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, a look of almost disdain on his face. ‘You said you wanted to set up a PR business.’

Sasha looked at him. ‘Is that what I did? PR?’

He shrugged. ‘When we met you were serving drinks at a reception. I don’t think your knowledge of PR extended beyond the service end of the industry.’

There was a tone to his voice that Sasha chose to try and figure out later. She followed him up to the second level where the bedrooms were situated. He led her past several guest rooms to the end of the corridor, opening a door. ‘This is your room.’

She went in and stopped, turning around. ‘My room?’

‘Your room.’

Apollo filled the doorway easily. Sasha’s mouth felt dry. She was aware of her feet hurting from the high sandals. And a dull ache at the front of her head.

‘We weren’t sharing a room?’

Slowly he shook his head. ‘No.’

Sasha desperately wanted to know why and he looked as if he expected her to ask that question but for reasons she couldn’t understand she didn’t want to know. Just yet.

Because this would also, surely, explain his cool and aloof manner. Why the housekeeper had looked at her so warily.

She had a very tenuous grip on reality as it was, and she didn’t know if she was prepared to hear more revelations about herself.

So she said nothing and walked into the room. It was luxurious, as she’d come to expect in a very short space of time. Carpet so plush her heels sank right into it. Instinctively, she slipped off the sandals, relishing the relief and the sensation of the soft covering underfoot.

She was aware of the massive bed dressed in cool and pristine-looking linens to her left-hand side but ignored it, not liking the way she was so aware of it.

She carried the sandals in her hand over to where French doors opened out onto a balcony that was big enough to hold a sun lounger and table and chairs. From here she could see that the villa had another wing, one storey high, with a smaller terrace covered over with trellis. The outdoor pool was just beyond this area, surrounded by bougainvillea. There were loungers and a changing area.

The grounds sloped away from here, down the hill, leaving the vista open to Athens and the sea beyond.

The full extent of this sheer luxury sank in. It was overwhelming.

She turned back into the room, blinded for a moment by the sun. When her eyes adjusted again she realised that Apollo was a lot closer than she’d expected.

Immediately her pulse quickened and her skin seemed to get tight and hot all over. The bed loomed large behind him. He looked at her with a strange expression, as if fixated, for a moment. She noticed that he had undone his tie and it hung loose now. His top button was open, revealing the strong column of his throat.

He blinked, and the moment was gone. He stepped back and went to a door in the wall, opening it. ‘This is your walk-in closet and the bathroom.’

Sasha followed him, feeling light-headed and a little jittery. But those disturbing sensations and the way he’d just looked at her fled her mind when the space revealed itself and she looked upon more clothes than she could have ever possibly seen in her life. And shoes. And jewellery, in a special glass cabinet.

The clothes—dresses, skirts, trousers, shirts, jeans, leisure-wear—were stacked, hanging and folded in a room the size of a small boutique. There was every colour of the rainbow.

Without even realising she’d moved, Sasha found herself reaching out and touching a glittering lamé dress in dark blue. It slid between her fingers. It looked hardly capable of staying on a body.

She dropped it and looked around, half-horrified as much as fascinated. ‘These are all…mine?’

Apollo was still trying to get his body back under control. For a moment when Sasha had turned from the balcony back into the bedroom, she’d been backlit by the sun, turning her hair into a blazing strawberry-blonde halo around her head.

Her flimsy silk top had clung lovingly to her breasts, the lace of her bra just visible under the delicate material. And he’d had an almost uncontrollable urge to stride forward and take her by the arms and demand to know what she was playing at with this wide-eyed act of innocence. She’d played that card before.

But that urge had fled, to be replaced by a far more dangerous one when she’d looked at him as if he was a wolf about to gobble her up. Instead, all he’d wanted to do was crush that temptingly lush mouth under his and punish her for reawakening this desire, which had lain mercifully dormant for the past three months, in spite of her best efforts to seduce him.

But not any more. It was awake and ravenous. And she was playing him with this little game. After all, feigning amnesia would be child’s play to a woman who had feigned a lot worse.

He’d had enough of the charade. His anger burned bright and hot and he told himself it was that, and not desire that he was feeling.

He said in a low voice that barely contained his anger, ‘You know damn well these are all your clothes because you spent many vacuous hours shopping for them with my credit card. You might have fooled the doctors and nurses at the hospital but there’s no one here but you and me now, so who are you trying to fool with this act, Sasha? What the hell are you up to?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT THE HELL are you up to?’

Sasha looked at Apollo and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in, they were so unexpected. But then there was almost a strange sense of relief to have the tension bubble over into words so that she could find out why he’d been acting so coolly with her.

She felt his anger but it didn’t scare her. It perplexed her.

‘What are you talking about?’

He waved a hand, bristling all over. ‘This…farce. Pretending to have lost your memory.’

Sasha felt confused. ‘But I’m not. Don’t you think I want to know who I am, or what’s going on?’

She shook her head. ‘Why would I do such a thing?’ But just then a pain lanced through the building dull ache in her head. She winced and put a hand to her forehead, feeling light-headed all of a sudden.

Apollo’s voice was sharp. ‘What is it?’

Sasha was about to shake her head again but she stopped for fear of making it worse. ‘It’s just a headache, the doctor said that they might be frequent for a few days. If I do too much.’

The recent outburst hung between them, the atmosphere charged, but after a few moments Apollo stepped back and said tightly, ‘You should rest for a bit. I can have Rhea bring some food up in a couple of hours.’

Sasha remembered the way the woman had flinched earlier. ‘No, I’ll come down. I’m sure I’ll be feeling better.’

Apollo walked out of the closet space, leaving Sasha with the throbbing pain in her head and feeling utterly bewildered. He thought she was lying?

She heard a noise in the main bedroom and went back out to see a young girl she hadn’t met placing her hospital bag on the bed. The girl looked at her but didn’t smile. She backed away, staring at Sasha as if she might jump at her, and said in halting English, ‘Your bag, Kyria Vasilis.’

She left and Sasha stared after her for a long moment. After Apollo’s outburst just now, it was patently evident that their marriage was not a harmonious one, and that people didn’t seem to like her very much.

Her head throbbed even more, and Sasha went over to the bag that had just been delivered and pulled out the box of painkillers she’d been prescribed. She saw a tray on a table with water and glasses, and took two of the tablets.

She explored further, into the bathroom, which was almost as big as the bedroom. A massive bath and walk-in shower. Two sinks. Cream tiles and gold fittings that looked classy, not tacky.

She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and sucked in a breath. She was deathly pale. No wonder Apollo had asked if she was okay. She looked a wreck. Shadows under her eyes. The scratch on her cheek. The yellowing of the bruise on her forehead where she’d bumped her head.

She felt disconnected from herself, which she supposed was only to be expected. But she felt as though didn’t belong here, in this hushed rarefied place. Where people looked at her as if she’d done something to them. Where her husband accused her of lying.

Why would he think she’d do such a thing?

She pushed that to one side for the moment, it was too much to absorb and think about.

‘Sasha…’ She said the word out loud. It still didn’t feel right. ‘Hello, my name is Sasha Vasilis.’ Nothing but a faint echo.

She didn’t need to have bruises and scrapes to know that she was very far out of this man’s league. But a memory flashed into her head at that moment of feeling effervescent. Of him, smiling at her indulgently.

She’d been so happy.

If anything, that memory only made her feel more disorientated. She spied the bath behind her and suddenly wanted to wash away this confusing chain of events. If such a thing was possible.

She ran the bath and stripped off, stepping into the luxuriously scented silky water a few minutes later. It soothed her bruised and injured body, but it couldn’t soothe the turmoil in her belly or clear the pervasive fog in her head.

Apollo stood looking at the woman on the bed. She was in a towelling robe that dwarfed her body, her hair spread around her like a rose-gold halo. One arm was on her chest, the other flung above her head.

One slim pale leg was visible through the gap in the robe and Apollo could see the smattering of freckles across her knee. And it made his blood run hot.

Damn her.

Damn her to hell and back.

He’d met her four months ago and he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since then. First of all because he’d been unable to get her out of his head and then because she had shown him who she really was. A manipulative, conniving, mercenary—

She moved on the bed and made a small sound.

Those pale eyelids flickered open and he was looking down into two bright pools of blue. So blue that the first time he’d seen her huge eyes he’d been instantly reminded of the skies of his childhood, before things had grown much darker.

She blinked and Apollo came out of his trance, suddenly feeling exposed. He took a step back. ‘I knocked on the door but there was no answer.’

Sasha sat up. He caught a scent of something like crushed roses. And clean skin. He gritted his jaw before saying, ‘Dinner is ready. I can have the food delivered to your room.’

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.

For a crazy second she almost thought he was going to kiss her. But then he broke contact and stepped back. His eyes were so dark in the dim light they looked black. Sasha felt a little dizzy, as if they had kissed.

He said curtly, ‘You should go to bed, Sasha. It’s late.’ He went to the door and held it open.

Sasha couldn’t understand what had just come over her. The depth of the need to have him kiss her still left her shaken.

Dear God, had she actually asked…?

She all but ran out of his office before she could read the disgust on his face or, worse, let him see the awful surge of humiliation climbing up from her gut.

Apollo waited until Sasha had disappeared before closing his door. He went back to his desk and downed his drink in one, as if that might burn away how close he’d come to taking what she was offering, lifting that lush mouth towards him, begging with those huge eyes to kiss her.

One minute he’d been wondering how she’d managed to sneak under his guard again, and the next he’d been on the verge of hauling her closer to relive that night they’d shared—which was exactly what she’d been angling for since they’d married.

His hand tightened around the crystal glass so much he had to relax for fear of breaking it.

Sexual frustration bit sharply into his gut. He’d spent the last three months without so much as a flicker of arousal when he’d looked at his wife. And now it wasn’t a flicker. It was an inferno.

He couldn’t understand what was happening. But he knew that, no matter how intense it got, he would not be weak. He’d been weak for her once before and she’d upended his life. It wouldn’t happen again.

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.’

He took her by the arm and led her out of the villa and into the passenger seat of his car.

Sasha took in the view of Athens as they came down from the hills and entered the ancient city. The view was helping to distract her from the proximity of Apollo’s all too masculine presence beside her.

The city was bustling, full of young people out on the streets, enjoying the weekend, laughing and enjoying life. She could see the Acropolis standing majestically over the city, like a sentinel. ‘Have I been to the Acropolis?’ she asked, as the thought occurred to her.

Apollo glanced at her, slowing to a stop at a set of lights. ‘No, you didn’t express an interest in seeing it.’

Sasha frowned. It was so disconcerting that someone else knew more about her than she did. Before long, they were driving into a wide leafy street with tall exclusive townhouses, and then through huge wrought-iron gates manned by serious-looking security men. They pulled up outside what could only be described as a neo-classical mansion.

Lots of people were milling around outside, then slowly making their way inside. Women dressed in long glittering dresses, men dressed like Apollo, in tuxedoes.

Nerves erupted like butterflies in her belly. Again, she regretted ever saying anything about coming. But the car had stopped and Apollo was uncoiling his tall body out of the car and handing the keys to a young man.

Then he was opening her door and holding out a hand. She took a deep breath and let him help her out. Not even her awareness of him was able to eclipse her nerves. Her palms were clammy. She didn’t belong in a place like this and she didn’t need to regain her memory to know that.

CHAPTER FOUR

APOLLO’S HAND WAS on Sasha’s elbow, guiding her through the throng. He noticed the looks from his peers. The widening eyes as they registered his wife by his side. He gritted his jaw. He’d never asked for this—to be married—but he’d been surprised at what a difference it had made. Much as he hated to admit it, Sasha had been right in her estimation of the worth of having a wife by your side.

It made his married colleagues less nervous. It kept predatory women at bay. And it had lent a more stable veneer to his business. A couple of business associates he’d been trying to meet with for years had finally agreed to meetings and Apollo had realised that it had been because they were family men and they hadn’t totally trusted him when he’d been a bachelor. He’d been seen as a rogue operator.

He looked down at Sasha to check how she was reacting and saw her expression. Genuinely awed, as if she’d never been in this kind of environment before. Certainly not how she’d reacted the first time he’d brought her to an event. Then she’d looked as entitled as everyone else here. Or, at least, she’d tried to.

Now she wore the kind of expression that one would never see in a place like this because everyone was too used to this level of luxury, or wouldn’t be caught dead admitting to being impressed. Or too cynical.

To his surprise, her reaction reminded him of how he’d felt when he’d first started being invited along to high society events: out of his depth and as if he didn’t belong.

He quickly quashed the sense of empathy. Sasha had led him a merry dance for months now, and she owed him. She seemed determined to act the part of his wife again and he’d be an idiot not to take advantage of that. After all, they wouldn’t be married for much longer—as soon as she had fully recuperated—

She interrupted his thoughts, asking, ‘What is this place?’

‘It’s the French Ambassador’s residence. He’s hosting this evening. His wife died of cancer some years ago and now he and his family host this ball every year.’

‘Oh, that’s sad.’

Apollo looked at her suspiciously. But she seemed genuinely concerned. A little frown between her eyes. Mouth turned down.

Sasha was unaware of the speculative look from her husband. She was too consumed and awed by her surroundings. She’d never seen such glittering opulence. The ceilings had elaborate frescoes and the walls seemed to be made out of gold.

Hundreds of candles and sparkling chandeliers imbued everything with a golden glow. It truly was another world. She was sure she’d never seen so many beautiful people in one place. Or maybe she had, if she’d been serving them drinks. But not like this…not as one of them.

Frustration bit at her insides. She hated this…not knowing. Being at the mercy of her mind choosing to reveal memories totally at random. When it chose to. Like when she’d seen Apollo in the tuxedo.

To distract herself, Sasha tried to tune into the conversation Apollo was having with some men, but she gave up as it was in Greek, or other languages she didn’t understand.

Waiters came around offering champagne and canapés. Sasha was too afraid to eat in case she ruined her dress. Then they were led into another large and impressive room with round tables set around a small stage. They sat down and a charity auction took place. The items up for auction included cars, date nights with famous celebrities and even a small island off the coast of Ireland.

Sasha gasped when that lot was announced. ‘That’s outrageous!’

Apollo looked at her and his mouth twisted slightly. ‘That’s the super-rich.’

Then a lot came up for a luxury yacht. To her shock and surprise, Apollo started bidding on it. Within a few short minutes people were clapping him on the back and cheering. He’d paid an extortionate amount of money for it.

Sasha was in shock. ‘You just bought a yacht.’

He looked at her. ‘Well, I already have an island and an island isn’t much use without a yacht.’

He said that without any discernible sense of awe that he owned such fantastical things. In fact, he almost sounded…bored.

‘You don’t seem very excited to own such things.’

Apollo felt something hitch in his chest at Sasha’s comment and the way her blue eyes seemed to be looking right inside him, to the place where a sense of novelty had become something else. Something less novel. When had that happened?

He shrugged nonchalantly when he felt tight inside, not relaxed, ‘Like I said, an island needs a yacht.’

‘But will you use it?’

Apollo was surprised at the hollow feeling that seemed to spread outwards from his centre. He hadn’t even consciously bought the yacht with a view to using it. More as a reflex to do what was expected of him. But now he couldn’t help imagining the vessel bobbing in azure waters under a clear sky, and this woman laid out in all her slender, pale glory…red hair spread around her head—

The crowd seemed to stand en masse as the auction came to an end and Apollo seized the opportunity to divert Sasha’s attention. Since when had his wife had the ability to probe so insightfully and deeply with just a casual question?

He stood up and reached for her hand. ‘It’s time to move on.’

Sasha had a very keen sense that Apollo hadn’t appreciated her innocent questions. Clearly she’d hit on a nerve and maybe she was being spectacularly naive: in this world, islands and yachts were mere luxury trinkets to be added to a portfolio of even more luxury items.

There was just something about his lack of enthusiasm that struck at the heart of her, making her feel a little…sad.

The crowd was moving into yet another glorious room, even bigger. A ballroom. There was an orchestra and a singer singing sultry jazz songs. The lighting was dim and intimate. French doors were open, leading out to a terrace lined with flaming lanterns. Dusk was falling and the sky was a deep lavender colour. It was like a scene from a fairy-tale or a movie.

Her hand was still in Apollo’s and she was very conscious of his long fingers wrapped around hers, so much so that she didn’t even notice that he was leading her onto the dance floor. When she realised where they were, it was too late. He was drawing her in front of him and wrapping one arm across her back.

She went rigid in his arms from the impact of his body against hers as much because of where they were; in the middle of a dance floor. Around them, couples were moving sinuously to the music. Graceful and elegant. At ease.

Apollo started to move, taking Sasha with him, and she hissed, ‘I don’t even know if I can dance.’

‘Just follow my lead.’

After a few robotic moments, Apollo pulled her even closer to his body. Sasha couldn’t fight the force it took to remain rigid and so she softened against him.

She was surrounded by him, his steely strength. They were so close she could smell the sharp tang of his aftershave. Her heels put her even closer to his jaw and mouth. She wanted to press her lips there, taste his skin. Immediately she tensed again and he lowered his head, saying in her ear, ‘Relax. Just let me lead.’

After a few torturous seconds she allowed herself to soften again. She realised they were moving around the floor with relative grace. She looked up, avoiding looking at his jaw and the faint line of stubble.

‘Where did you learn to dance?’

She felt the tension come into his body. ‘My mother. She loved to dance, she used to dance with my father all the time.’

‘That’s romantic.’

He looked down at her, his expression anything but romantic. ‘It was, until he had the accident and couldn’t dance any more.’

Sasha thought of what he’d told her about getting revenge for his father’s death. She shivered slightly, thinking of how ruthless he must have been. Single-minded. But she remembered him being like that with her—until she’d agreed to go for a drink with him.

She wondered how on earth she’d caught his eye in London when they’d been surrounded by women as beautiful as the ones here tonight, in their peacock dresses and glittering jewels. Even though she was dressed like them now, she felt dowdy and colourless in comparison.

She noticed one dark brunette pass by in the arms of her partner, her voluptuous body poured into a silver sheath dress. She also noticed how she looked at Apollo, and then at Sasha, dismissing her with a flick of her hair. No competition.

The song came to an end and Sasha seized the opportunity to escape for a moment, hating this feeling of insecurity. Especially when she thought of how close she’d come last night to showing Apollo how much he affected her. When he clearly felt nothing similar. She pulled back from Apollo’s arms. ‘Excuse me, I just need to go to the bathroom.’

Apollo watched Sasha hurry from the dance floor. Her face had been the colour of milk. He couldn’t stop the spike of concern. Was she feeling ill? Was it her memory? Was she remembering more?

He cursed and made his way over to the bar. Concern for his wife was a novel and unwelcome sentiment. Also unwelcome was the raging arousal still lingering in his blood after that dance. Holding her so close, smelling her scent. The thin fabric of her dress doing little to hide how her slender curves had felt against his body…no other woman had ever had such an effect on him.

He took women he desired to bed. He told them up front that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. Except her. Everything about his experience with her had been so novel, and that’s why he’d let his guard down momentarily. A moment she’d exploited when she’d come to him in London a month after their night together with her shock announcement.

But all of that was in danger of being forgotten with the rush of hot desire in his blood. Clouding his judgement. Blunting his control. Changing things. He should never have agreed to let her join him tonight. They weren’t a couple.

They never would have married if it hadn’t been for—

Apollo saw Sasha return to the room. Her head was turning left and right, clearly searching for him.

She looked vulnerable. Out of place. He saw more than one man look at her twice, caught by her fresh-faced beauty. She stood out in a crowd of rich and jaded cynics. And that’s why she’d appealed to him that very first night.

But it had all been a mirage. Her memory loss might very well be real, but underneath it lay the true Sasha Miller. A liar and a mercenary bitch. It wouldn’t be long before she showed her true colours again. At that moment, as if hearing his thoughts, she saw him and their eyes locked across the room. Apollo vowed not to forget who she really was.

The journey winding back up the hills to Apollo’s villa was taken in silence. Sasha was engrossed in her own thoughts. The questions buzzing in her brain were growing increasingly loud and hard to ignore. Especially after tonight when she’d gone out in public, pretending to the world that she was this man’s wife. When reality couldn’t be further from that truth.

Apollo parked the car at the foot of the steps leading up to the front door of the villa. Sasha turned to him in the gloom of the car. ‘Why did you let me come with you tonight?’

Apollo put his hands on the wheel. ‘Primarily because I didn’t expect you to be ready on time. You never were before.’

‘So that would have been your excuse for leaving me behind.’

He looked at her and shrugged minutely, unapologetic.

Sasha shook her head. ‘What happened, Apollo? Why are we like this? You liked me in London. You pursued me…asked me for a drink. Took me for dinner.’

Took me to bed?

She couldn’t remember those details but she sensed yes, because her body was attuned to his on a level that she couldn’t deny. And would a man like Apollo have married her without sleeping with her? He didn’t strike her as the traditional type.

Was she? Had she been a virgin?

‘You really want to get into this now?’

Once again she wasn’t sure. Did she want to know everything? But she heard herself say, ‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready?’

Sasha swallowed the rising fear. ‘I need to know. I feel like I’m the only one left out of a secret.’

‘Very well. But not here—inside.’

A feeling of panic eclipsed the fear as Sasha followed Apollo inside the villa. Was she really ready for this? No. But she knew she couldn’t continue not knowing either.

It was quiet. The staff had gone home or were in bed. He led the way into one of the less formal drawing rooms, flicking on low lights.

He went over to a drinks cabinet, tugging at the bow-tie around his neck. He looked back at her, ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘Will I need one?’ Sasha joked, but it felt hollow.

He arched a brow and she said, ‘A small brandy, please.’ She wasn’t even sure if she’d ever had brandy before but felt like it might be necessary.

Apollo poured a drink for himself and brought her over a small tumbler. She took a sniff and wrinkled her nose at the strong smell. She took a tentative sip and the liquid slid down her throat and into her stomach, leaving a trail of fire and a lingering afterglow of heat. It wasn’t unpleasant.

Apollo shrugged off his jacket and Sasha wished he hadn’t because now she could see the play of muscles under the thin material of his shirt. He faced her. ‘What do you want to know?

Everything.

She swallowed. Where to start? ‘Did we sleep together?’

‘Yes. We spent one night together.’

An instant flush of heat landed in Sasha’s belly that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Her instinct had been right. She’d slept with this man.

That was why her body remembered.

But she didn’t.

She swallowed. ‘The night we had dinner in… The Shard?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, then you came back to my apartment.’

Ridiculously she almost felt like apologising for not being able to remember. Instinctively she felt that it had been memorable, and that a man like Apollo wasn’t easily forgotten.

Her hand gripped the glass. ‘Was I…? Was it my first time?’

His jaw clenched. ‘I believed it was, yes. But since then…let’s just say that I can’t be sure you didn’t make it seem that way.’

Sasha felt something like shame creep up inside her. ‘Why would I lie about being a virgin?’

He looked at her and she couldn’t escape that green gaze or the clear admonishment. ‘To make yourself appear more innocent than you were. Because you thought it would appeal to me, a jaded cynic? Who knows?’

‘I didn’t tell you beforehand?’

He shook his head. ‘You said you were afraid that if I’d known how inexperienced you were, I wouldn’t want you.’

Sasha sat down on a seat behind her, her legs feeling distinctly wobbly.

‘What happened then?’

Apollo drank the contents of his glass and put it down carefully. He faced her and folded his arms across his chest. He looked like a warrior, preparing for battle. All sinew and muscle. Not an inch of softness.

‘After that night we went our separate ways.’

Sasha absorbed that. Had it been a mutual decision? She shied away from asking that question now. It was enough to absorb that he’d been her first lover.

Or had he?

She felt an instinctive need to reject his claim that she might not have been innocent. But how could she defend herself when she didn’t know for sure?

She took another sip of the fiery drink, her hand not quite steady. ‘If we went our separate ways…then how…did we end up here, married?’

For a second her heart palpitated. Maybe he’d come after her? Maybe one night hadn’t been enough?

He paused for a moment and then he said, ‘Because a month after that night, you came to my offices in London and you told me that you were pregnant with my child.’

Sasha stood up slowly, there was a roaring sound in her ears and she had to shake her head to clear it. ‘I’m sorry… I what?’

He spoke slowly. ‘You told me that you were pregnant with my child.’

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