by Abby Green
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 Apol
lo 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?’