by Maisey Yates
He had approached her as she’d gotten out of the pool and she’d felt... Naked. Alive. Afraid. So she’d defaulted to her usual position.
She could remember turning to him, her lips curled. They’ll let anyone into the estate, won’t they? How my family’s standards have fallen over the years.
His eyes had blazed then. With anger. And he’d grabbed hold of her arm. She hadn’t been afraid, though. She’d been...electrified.
He had held her there, looked at her hard, and for one moment, one desperate moment, she had imagined that she had seen lust in his eyes. That she had seen interest. But then, he had released her and turned away, leaving her there as though nothing at all had happened.
But now, somehow, for some reason, he wanted her, too. This is your chance. To put it behind you once and for all so that you can move on.
“All right,” she said, ignoring the thrill of excitement that shot through her. “I agree. We have to get back on proper footing so that we can deal with each other as business partners.”
“You are not my partner.”
“Whatever. Terminology aside I am agreeing to the idea of an affair. But it has to stay a secret. Can you imagine the scandal? Me. Dating my wicked stepbrother who stole my family legacy after he wormed his way into my father’s good graces.”
“Of course. I have no interest in parading my intimate association with you in front of the world. As I already said.”
His words, his tone, rankled. “I find it funny that you speak of it as though you find it distasteful. Of course I do. Everyone who moves in business circles fears you. I can see why I would want to disassociate from you. But not why you would wish to disassociate from me.”
He arched a brow. “I have a type, Elle. It is not buttoned-up redheads. As you know, gentlemen prefer blondes. Or, in my case, scoundrels prefer blondes, brunettes or redheads so long as they’re willing to part their thighs. I like women who know how to smile. Who know how to have fun. I do not like little harpies who claw at me even as they tear my clothes off.”
“You like it when I claw at you.”
Heat flared in his dark eyes and she took that as a win. “I consider this a unique circumstance.”
She wanted to ask him why he thought heat was exploding between them the way it was. She wanted to ask him if it was ever like this for him and the other women he had sex with. But that would betray her inexperience. And that was something she wasn’t willing to do. She wanted to protect her vulnerable places. Wanted to shield everything she didn’t know from him.
That was an old defense, and one that she employed daily. She hated asking for help. Hated appearing ignorant.
Her father was a hard man, and she had always had the impression that he was standing by waiting for her to disappoint him. So she never let him see when she was floundering. Never let him detect one bit of uncertainty in her. She had wrapped herself so tightly in her ironed-on exterior, so careful to never show a wrinkle. She had difficulty letting go of it under any circumstances.
And if she was determined to never let her father see her sweat that went even more for Apollo.
That meant she couldn’t ask the questions that were gnawing a hole inside of her. They would just have to go unanswered. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing was going to come from her association with Apollo. Nothing except freedom from the bizarre hold he had over her—and her life.
She had spent far too long being preoccupied with him. She would just be glad to have it handled.
And if she was a little bit...giddy over the thought of some time to deal with the attraction...well, that was normal. People acted ridiculous when it came to sex. History was filled with examples. Wars were started over sexual desire. She could hardly expect herself to be above the kind of insanity that captured almost all of humanity.
She spent the rest of the plane ride musing about restraint and dozing on and off while Apollo continued to work. Every time she opened her eyes and looked at where he was sitting, he was maintaining the same position, his focus never broken from his laptop, or the spreadsheets in front of him.
It was strange, watching him from across the darkened cabin. He had changed so much in the past few years. The lines on his face becoming more pronounced, as though each year had left a mark behind, evidence of the living he’d done.
And as a teenager, he had never worn a suit. He had always kept his hair slightly longer back then, too. Now it was cropped ruthlessly short, as though he was trying to look like he had sprung out of the ground a very conservative billionaire.
She wanted to find that boy again. Strip off the layers and layers he’d put over the person he’d been. The one she had... Well, the one she had felt so many things for.
She let her eyes flutter closed again, and when she opened them, they had landed in Greece. Customs and passports and the like were handled in an efficient manner involving people coming to them and apologizing for any delays. After that, they were ushered into a limousine, all their bags packed quickly into the trunk as they departed straight from the plane to the highway.
Athens was an incredible sprawl she hadn’t accurately pictured in her mind. The rolling hills were capped with white, not from snow, but from the stone houses packed tightly together, flowing along with the landscape.
The downtown wasn’t anything like the glass-and-steel jungle of Manhattan. Ancient structures mixed with more modern buildings, the history and heritage of the nation evident in the intricate stonework, the massive pillars and marketplaces scattered throughout.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a villa just outside the city.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “But I thought we were going to your offices?”
“We will. At some point. But some adjustments have been made to accommodate some of our new goals.”
“Meaning what?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from the scenery to look at him.
“I don’t think it’s that difficult to guess.”
They drove out of the city, winding up the steep, packed hillsides. They escaped the sprawl, moving to an area where trees were more plentiful. Where houses were a little bit less common. Until they reached the top of a completely vacant hill that overlooked the sea. There, behind a secure set of wrought-iron gates was a white stone house that was even more imposing than the St. James family estate in upstate New York.
“Is this your primary residence now?”
He lifted his shoulder. “As much as any place, I suppose. It is my home, after all.”
“I do know that. You were born here. You left here when you were eight.”
His focus sharpened. “Have you been reading unauthorized biographies?”
“No,” she said. “I just paid attention when you used to speak around the dinner table. I used to know you, Apollo, as difficult as it is to remember back that far.”
An emotion she couldn’t put a name to flashed through his eyes. “I did not realize such memories were worth saving.”
“Know your enemy, and all of that.”
“I suppose so.”
The limousine pulled closer to the house, and the driver put the car into Park. Elle opened up her own door, stepping out and looking up at the house. To her, it looked like a lot of cubes of varying sizes stacked on top of each other, large windows on all sides looking out at the hills behind them, and the ocean before them.
“It doesn’t seem like you’re afforded very much privacy,” she said.
“Are you concerned that the village will see you naked? Because make no mistake, most of the time spent in this house will be spent without clothes.”
The dark, sensual promise should have frightened her, offended her. Instead, it excited her.
“The thought crossed my mind,” she said. No point in playing the prude no
w. Not when he knew full well she wasn’t.
“Never fear. I can tint the windows at the flick of a switch, and we won’t even have to sacrifice the view. But good to know you are on the same page as I am.”
“I have great concern for my modesty.” And her sanity.
“Well, I hope you don’t concern yourself much with it in my presence.” He walked ahead of her, moving to the front of the house. “Our things will be brought in momentarily. Come, let me show you around.”
She followed him inside, her heart hammering, her mouth suddenly dry. She didn’t know what might happen next. If he was going to strip her of her clothing immediately and press her up against a wall again. And if he did, what would she do? She would capitulate. She knew that from experience.
But he didn’t make a move to touch her. Instead, he paused in the expansive entryway. “I think this is self-explanatory,” he said, indicating the living area with the low-profile couch that was up against the wall, curving around to another. “Beyond that is the pool.” He walked ahead, up the open staircase that led to the second floor. She followed him. “My office,” he said. “The library, kitchen and dining area. I felt the second floor made for a slightly better view.” He continued straight up the stairs, to the third floor and she quickened her pace to keep up. “That way is my room,” he said, pointing down to the left. “And then here you will find yours.” The opposite direction from his. He began to walk to her room, and she followed, feeling a little bit like a lost puppy afraid of losing sight of her master.
He pushed the door open and revealed a light and airy space. Everything was white. The bedspread, the gauzy curtains that hung around the bed frame. There were no curtains on the windows, just as with the rest of the house. The square, unobstructed glass pane afforded a brilliant view of the jewel-bright sea, and let in the pale, sun-washed light.
“There are several settings for the windows. One is a blackout setting. That way the sun won’t disturb your sleep,” he explained.
She nodded. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said, looking around the room. “I thought we would be sharing a room.”
He chuckled. “I don’t sleep with my lovers, agape. I have sex with them. We don’t need to share a bedroom for that.”
Dammit. He managed to make her feel completely gauche and out of her depth even though she was doing her best to appear like all of this was commonplace for her. She’d been feeling like she was succeeding. Until this moment. She gritted her teeth. “Of course. How could I be so silly?”
“I imagine you typically date nice boys who like to spend the evening making love before they pull you close and cuddle you.”
His mocking tone burned her down deep. She was starting to feel at a disadvantage again. She would not allow it. “Do I seem like the type of woman who enjoys cuddling?” she asked, arching a brow. “You cannot possibly guess at the sort of man I typically associate with. You don’t even know me. Not even a little bit. You know what I’ve bothered to show you, and that’s all.”
“My mistake. If you will excuse me, I’m going to get ready for this evening. And I have a bit of work to catch up on.”
“You worked the entire time we were on the plane.”
“Impatient for me?”
She swallowed hard. She swallowed her honest answer, which was most definitely yes. “Just concerned you’re going to fall over at the age of twenty-nine from high blood pressure or something.”
“Your concern is touching. I will see you this evening for the charity gala.”
He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
She turned and looked out the window, gazing at the view. For some reason, this time, she had the feeling of being inside of a terrarium, but it didn’t feel quite so open. Once that thought entered her mind she felt as if she were some kind of creature he was keeping in a cage until he was ready to take her out and play with her.
Somehow, back in New York this had all felt equal, like they were in the same space, wanting the same things. But not now. Silly, because he owned her company. She should not have felt equal with him in the workplace. Should not have felt like they were on the same footing at all. And yet, for some reason—her pride, her intense dedication to her business persona—she had felt like they were.
But not here. In his house, in this show of his incredible wealth, she felt vulnerable. Powerless. She was in his home country, a place where she didn’t even speak the language, trapped in his house on the hill.
She wondered, for a moment, if this was what he had felt. Walking into her family home as a teenager, his mother engaged to a powerful man so far above her station. And he had been greeted by a stepsister so consumed with her own feelings, her own issues, that she’d been nothing but horrible. Had done nothing but try to make him feel completely unequal to the place.
She blinked, pushing back an unwanted wave of sympathy. That was in the past. What she’d done had been out of girlish fear of the strength of her feelings.
Apollo was not acting as a boy, reacting to fear. He wasn’t reacting at all. He was a man on the warpath, and God help her if she got in his way.
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN ELLE APPEARED at the top of the stairs that evening wearing the silk gown that he’d had sent up to the room earlier, Apollo wasn’t sure he had the strength to attend the gala. No, most of him wanted to grab hold of her and drag her straight into her bedroom and strip it off her.
The emerald green silk gown seemed almost demure in the front. It had a high neckline, the delicate, shiny fabric skimming her curves. It rippled when she walked down the stairs, flowing over her body like water.
But it was the back he couldn’t wait to see. He had selected the dress for that very reason. True to his word, he was intent on raising her profile in the company. All the better to make her family’s humiliation more apparent. If no one knew who the St. James family were, if they were only aware of the companies, while the family itself remained faceless, his disgrace of them would not carry the impact he required.
In a few weeks he would cut ties completely. He would let her drown along with her father and the rest of the St. James family.
It was cruel. But what David St. James had done to Apollo’s father, the way he had manipulated Apollo’s mother...
He forced himself to smile at her. To practice some form of charm. He did possess it, after all. Though he didn’t often exercise it when dealing with Elle. He could have any woman he wanted, and had, even before he had become the man he was now.
The girls he had associated with from nearby all-girls institutes back when he had been a teenager had found him fascinating. None of them had ever intended on taking him home to meet their parents. But a great many of them had taken him to nearby gazebos, backseats of cars and vacant dorm rooms. He might not be the kind of man they could proudly claim, but they had certainly found him attractive enough for certain uses.
Of course, Elle had already proven she had no issues using him for her physical satisfaction while she despised him on a personal level. So, he supposed that there was no point in attempting to be charming now.
All thoughts of charm or anything else were completely emptied from his mind when he saw the side of the gown as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He could think of nothing more than the possibility of stripping it from her body now.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice hard.
“Why?” she asked, turning to face him, her hands clasped in front of her, demure, as though she had no idea what she was doing to him.
“Turn around,” he said, deciding that he would forgo charm completely.
A flash of color spread up her neck, into her cheeks. Clearly, even if it made her angry, she quite enjoyed it when he gave orders. She turned slowly, teasing him by taking her time. And when she revealed
her back fully, his stomach tightened, his blood pooling in his groin.
The back of the dress was a deep V ending just above the curve of her rear, exposing her entire back, the edges glittering with delicate beadwork. The seams over the silken material served to enhance the round shape of her backside, creating an even more dramatic shape to her curves.
He wanted to take her back upstairs, not just so he could have his way with her, but so he could keep any other man from laying eyes on what he thought of as his.
“It does not matter how many men have come before me,” he said, not realizing he was speaking the words out loud until they had already escaped his mouth. “You are mine now. You have always been mine, Elle.” The words were more raw, more real than he’d intended.
But then, this feeling was more raw, more real than anything that had ever come before it.
He saw attachments for what they were. Saw clearly how easily feelings could be manipulated. But what he felt for Elle was beyond him. It could never be distilled into one neat emotion. Could hardly ever be defined.
He needed it gone. Needed to burn it out. So that in the end he could walk away from the St. James family and never look back.
Walk away from her.
She turned to face him, her signature red ponytail swinging along with the movement. “That’s quite possessive,” she said.
“I’m kind of a bastard. You have agreed to be my mistress until such time as we have burned out the attraction between us. That means you are mine. And mine alone.”
“I hardly make a habit of overlapping lovers.”
He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, planting his hand firmly at the center of her back and drawing her close to him. “I would not permit it.”
“You might own my company, Apollo,” she said, her voice low, sultry, “but you do not own me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, I think,” he said, sliding his hand up the center of her back, cupping the back of her head. “Because for now those two things are the same. I own both the company and you.”