CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
Their afternoon interlude almost made them late to the party that evening, held in a rooftop bar in one of Kowloon’s sky scrapers.
Flora—in a silvery, clinging cocktail dress that Apollo had bought for her, and her hair loose—tried to ignore the kernel of ice that sat in the pit of her stomach. Even the heat she and Apollo had generated in bed that afternoon hadn’t managed to get rid of it.
She hadn’t expected him to even mention his past, let alone talk about his own role in his father’s scheme, or the moment he’d discovered that Stavros was a crook. Every word he’d said had been weighted down with regret, and it had been in his eyes too. The toll it had taken on him had been obvious, just as it had been obvious that he’d meant every word he’d said. He’d enjoyed deceiving all those people, her father included.
But he’d been deceived in turn. By Stavros. It had happened a long time ago, so he’d have been young, and like all young men he’d have wanted to prove himself to his father. And naturally, if he’d loved Stavros, then he’d have believed everything Stavros had told him.
It had all made sense to her.
She’d been a child when her father had died, and her mother had never gone into the details. She hadn’t known that David had heard rumours surrounding the scheme, nor had she known that he’d called Apollo to ask if the rumours were true, or that Apollo had told her father everything was fine.
In the years after the scheme’s collapse, Apollo had never made a secret of his own involvement in the scheme, or his regret for what had happened, but as she’d worked towards her goal of ruining him, she’d told herself that he must have been lying. That his regret and admissions of guilt weren’t sincere, especially when he’d been given immunity for turning his father in.
Then, as she’d got to know him as a boss over the past year, his cold, brutally honest manner had seemed like dispassion, making her sure that he was only paying lip-service to feelings of guilt and regret. He didn’t actually feel it. He didn’t seem to feel anything at all.
Now though, after listening to him explain what had happened, she’d heard the pain in his voice. Heard the regret and the guilt, and, somewhere inside her, that icy effigy of him that she’d built up in her head, already undermined by the past two weeks of glorious passion, cracked right through.
Of course he cared. The man who held her in his arms every night, making her gasp and shudder and shake, wasn’t some cold, unfeeling statue. He was honest, yes, but that honesty came from a genuine desire to tell the truth. To not lie to other people the way his father had lied to him.
And not only that, but he’d been affected deeply by the death of that investor he’d mentioned. An investor that could only have been her father.
She hadn’t been able to look at him when he’d spoken about that, hadn’t wanted to look into his eyes and see the truth, that the man she’d spent her life wanting to bring down had been as much a victim of his own father as hers had been.
Apollo had answered her questions with the same unflinching honesty that he answered any questions. Yes, he’d convinced her father to invest his money. Yes, he’d told David that there was nothing wrong, the scheme was totally legitimate.
Yes, he’d made a mistake and he regretted it. He blamed himself for it.
You were wrong about him. All this time you were wrong.
Flora’s throat closed, tears prickling behind her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to blink them away. He was a good man, and she’d known it for a while now. Honest, protective, kind. He was everything the media said about him. More, he was also passionate, feeling things on a deep level. His heart was true.
Unlike yours.
The limo opened its doors into the sultry Kowloon evening, with the inevitable gathering of the press pack outside the skyscraper party venue.
Despite the humidity, Flora felt cold. She’d felt cold all afternoon, the knowledge sitting inside her that it wasn’t him who was the liar and the cheat, it was her. She was a con woman who’d taken in a good man, and not only was she lying to him, she was lying to herself.
Telling herself that it didn’t matter if she lied to him. It didn’t matter if he was hurt. That her parents deserved some kind of justice for how he’d ruined their lives.
Except he’d been ruined too, and by his own father.
How can you continue with your plan now? His heart has already been broken once, and you’re intending to break it again.
Her throat closed, anguish collecting inside her. The thought of hurting him now felt like a knife in her side, and she knew all those doubts she’d had—that this plan had the potential to break her heart too—were true. It would.
In ruining him, she’d ruin herself.
The thunderstorm of the early afternoon had long gone, but the streets were still damp, neon staining the puddles everywhere. Cameras flashed and the press pack shouted questions as she and Apollo exited the limo.
He held out his arm to her and, even though she should have been used to seeing him in black tie by now, she was still caught by how devastatingly handsome he was. How her heart instinctively leaped whenever he turned his jungle green gaze on hers, glittering still with the remains of their afternoon passion.
This was the man she wanted to ruin. To cause him the same kind of pain that her father must have felt when he’d taken his own life. The same kind of hurt and betrayal she and her mother had experienced after David died.
She’d wanted to break him, yet now she knew the man behind that incredible gaze and list of accomplishments a mile long. The man who brought her coffee in the mornings and shielded her from the media, and who held her at night. The man who’d talked to her about everything under the sun, and who’d been nothing but honest with her…
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.
She’d thought he was the villain all this time, but he wasn’t.
The villain was her.
Flora clutched Apollo’s hand as they walked up the steps to the building’s entrance, tears filling her vision, her legs feeling unsteady. He glanced down at her with some concern, obviously spotting that she was in distress, which was a bad thing. He’d want to know what was upsetting her and, if he asked, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to lie again.
She was so tired of lying.
What about justice for your parents’ deaths?
But was it really justice to intentionally hurt someone? To cause them pain, simply because you yourself were hurting?
She knew the answer to that. It had been there all along, she just hadn’t wanted to see it. Of course it wasn’t justice. It was mean and petty and cruel. It was revenge, and there was nothing just about that.
Apollo had done what he could to mitigate his father’s actions, and his own. He’d apologised and he’d paid out compensation. It wasn’t his fault that her father had chosen the path that had caused the most pain. It wasn’t his fault that her mother had refused that compensation in anger, before becoming ill with the cancer that would kill her.
None of that was Apollo’s fault.
You need to tell him the truth then.
Yes, she did. Her mouth went dry at the thought of admitting that, for the entire year she’d been employed by him, she’d been hiding her background. That she’d planted those cameras. That his reputation was being called into question because of her. That she was the daughter of the man who’d killed himself…
She didn’t know what he’d do when he found out the truth, but she did know one thing. He hated a liar. And there would be no more lazy afternoons in bed with his hands on her, making her feel beautiful and giving her pleasure. No more coffee in the morning, or little tasting plates. No more warm baths and him washing her hair.
No more of him at all.
He’d be furious with her, and he’d have every right to be.
As they reached the top of the steps, someone from the media pack yelled, ‘What do you know about your secretary, Apollo? Do you have any comment to make about the rumours that she isn’t who she says she is?’
Flora’s blood turned to ice, and for a second she froze, completely unable to move. Apollo gave no sign of having heard the question, merely glancing at her, the concern in his eyes deepening.
Pull yourself together.
She gripped his arm, forced herself to give him a nod to indicate she was fine.
‘Apollo!’ The same person shouted again. ‘Ask your wife about her background!’
Apollo’s dark head turned in the direction of the media pack, and Flora wanted to tell him to keep moving, to go inside and get away from the questions, to find a quiet place where they could talk. But she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than she already had.
‘Flora!’ someone else shouted, taking advantage of their pause at the top of the steps. ‘Does your husband know about your family?’
Apollo’s head whipped around in the other direction. Flora gripped his arm even tighter, feeling sick. ‘Can we go inside?’ she asked urgently. ‘Please, I’m not feeling well.’
He glanced at her again, then nodded, ushering her into the building. The door slid closed, shutting out the clamour.
Inside was a vast marble foyer with lifts at one end, and Flora felt as if she was traversing a mountainside, her heels clicking on the floor and echoing in the silence.
Apollo said nothing as they came to a stop in front of the lift that would take them to the rooftop bar. A man in evening clothes waited outside the doors. He smiled and greeted them, then pushed a button, opening the lift doors and gesturing at them to step inside.
The ice inside Flora wouldn’t go away as the doors slid shut.
The interior of the elevator was large and mirrored. She could see herself standing there in her glittering silver dress, Apollo tall and darkly beautiful standing beside her. Her face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
In the mirrored doors, she met his gaze, and felt her stomach drop away.
‘Is there something that you’re keeping from me, Flora?’ he asked.
Her fingertips had gone cold, her heart beating hard and fast, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was telling this man the truth she’d been hiding from him all this time.
He will hate you for it.
He would. And she would deserve that hate.
Her father had taken his own life for a reason, after all, and it hadn’t just been because of the money. It couldn’t have been. None of the other investors caught up in the scheme who’d lost everything had, so why had he?
You weren’t enough for him. You never were.
The words whispered in her head as she looked helplessly back at Apollo, hoping desperately that the lift would finally stop, or maybe even plummet back down to the ground, and this terrible moment would end.
But neither of those things happened.
Say it. Tell him. Now.
He turned and his hands were heavy on her shoulders, turning her to face him. There was concern in his eyes and worry, and she knew it was for her. Because he cared.
And in a sudden flash of insight, she suddenly understood why this moment was so hard, and why the thought of telling him made her feel physically sick.
Why, in the end, there was no other option for her but to give him the truth.
Because, despite all her justifications to herself about how this was only physical, that her heart wasn’t involved, that she was perfectly in control, she wasn’t.
She was in love with him and had been for the past two weeks, and if there was one thing this man deserved, it was the truth.
‘Flora?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Flora. Answer me.’
His grip on her was firm. There was no escaping his gaze.
No escaping this moment either.
She swallowed, her mouth bone dry, and made herself hold his gaze. She couldn’t be a coward about this. He deserved the same honesty that he’d given her.
‘Flora McIntyre is my legal name,’ she said in an unsteady voice. ‘But it’s my mother’s maiden name. My father was David Hunt. The man your father convinced to sink his life savings into that investment scheme. The man you told that the rumours were unfounded, and there was nothing to worry about.’
For a moment, Apollo just stared at her, as if he hadn’t heard what she’d said. Then it must have penetrated, because his eyes widened in shock, and he dropped his hands from her shoulders, then took an unconscious step back, staring at her. ‘What? What are you talking about?’
Flora forged on. ‘Those statements the press were throwing at us… It’s going to come out at some stage, but I hid my background from you. When I took the job at Helios, I didn’t want you to know my history.’
He said nothing for a long moment, his expression still one of shock. Then, like water in a lake slowly freezing over, his expression hardened, his eyes becoming cold chips of dark green glass. ‘And why would that be?’
Flora’s fingers curled into fists. ‘Because I’ve been planning to ruin you.’
* * *
Apollo couldn’t move. Shock had frozen him where he stood. All he could do was stare at the woman in front of him, the same woman he’d married and had spent the last two weeks exploring every inch of. The woman who’d relaxed with him and laughed with him. Who’d unleashed her passion onto him every night and hadn’t been afraid to have him do the same to her. Who was the only person he’d ever met who hadn’t treated him either like a criminal or a paragon, but just as a man.
The woman who’d apparently been lying to him all this time and he hadn’t known.
She’d been his PA for an entire year and had given no sign that she was anything but the woman he’d hired. Unflappable, calm, serene. He’d known nothing about her, but at the time he hadn’t thought he’d needed to. Then, when he realised he did want to know more about her, he’d thought he’d take it slowly, since she hadn’t been very forthcoming with details about herself.
Except, there was a reason she hadn’t been forthcoming.
If what she’d just said was true—if indeed he could believe anything she said—then she was David Hunt’s daughter. The man who’d killed himself over the loss of his life savings. It had been years before Apollo had managed to get Helios into a position where he could give compensation to the victims. He’d located Hunt’s family, but David’s wife had refused any money, and nothing he’d been able to do had changed her mind.
It had been one of his life’s biggest regrets.
Yet now, the daughter of that man was standing right in front of him, telling him she’d been lying about who she was all this time, and all because she wanted to ruin him. Lies of omission were still lies.
‘Why?’ He managed to dredge the word up somehow.
Flora had gone pale, yet her chin was held at a determined angle, and her grey eyes were clear. ‘Because you ruined my parents’ lives,’ she said simply. ‘So I was going to ruin yours.’
The shock echoed, ricocheting inside him and rebounding like a rock bouncing down a mountainside.
‘How?’ Apparently he’d been reduced to one-word questions.
‘I wanted to get close to you,’ she said. ‘I spent a few years, actually, working towards getting hired by Helios, and then becoming your PA.’ She swallowed then, the first sign of tension she’d shown, apart from her pallor. ‘I was going to start with your reputation, and then I was going to ruin you financially, too.’
He stared at her, still trying to process what she’d said. ‘You really thought you’d be able to ruin me?’ he asked, because he couldn’t get his head around it. ‘By being my PA.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was flat, as if she was having to force out the words, and he noticed that her hands were in tight fists at her sides. ‘But then the photos came out and you offered to marry me instead of Violet, and… I decided financial ruin would affect too many other people, so I thought if I could get you to fall in love with me, then I could…hurt you. I could leave you, break your heart, the way my mother’s and mine had broken.’
She used you the way your father used you, and you didn’t see it. You only saw what you wanted to see, because you were obsessed with her. Just like you were obsessed with gaining your father’s approval.
Something twisted inside him then, something else that had nothing to do with the present moment, and more to do with the past. A bitter grief, an endless guilt at what he’d done and the consequences that followed. But he shoved that aside, because the anger he felt about his own actions was a bottomless pit he couldn’t afford to fall into.
Far better to be angry with her and her lies, at what she thought she could do to him, make him fall in love with her. As if he’d ever be so stupid.
Aren’t you, though? You thought she was something she wasn’t…
The rage inside him grew, at her for lying to him. For being so beautiful and passionate, and so accepting of him and his demands. For making his heart skip a beat every time he walked into a room. For smiling and laughing with him, for teasing and flirting with him. For being too good to be true.
And no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he couldn’t escape the fact that he was complicit in this too. For believing what she’d told him. For thinking that she was honest, that there was nothing manipulative about her. For baring parts of his soul to her, and not even realising that all this time, she must have hated him for it.
Yes, and for letting his heart take control when it should have been his brain. And he knew, deep down, that no matter what he told himself, it had been his heart that was involved, tthough how deeply, he didn’t want to think about.
Because he should have been able to laugh this off. Fire her and put in place more stringent HR guidelines for Helios. Divorce her and send her away, never see her again, or take her to this event and pretend nothing had happened. Act as if it didn’t matter.
Except he couldn’t seem to find his usual cool veneer. His measured manner. There was only a blinding, hot rage, and a sense of deep betrayal.
‘So all of this was a lie then?’ he demanded, his voice much rougher than he wanted it to be. ‘Every night we spent together, every time you called my name. That was all an act?’
Something flared in her eyes then, something that looked like anguish. ‘No,’ she said hoarsely. ‘No. None of that was a lie. That was all real, I promise.’
‘Promise?’ The word was acid on his tongue. ‘How can you give me promises when you’ve been lying to me for months?’
‘I know.’ She swallowed yet again. ‘I just didn’t know—’
‘Didn’t know what?’ His voice was as sharp as a whip-crack, and he didn’t bother to temper it. ‘That I hated liars? That I thought what we had together was something special, something different? That I thought you were different?’
She’d gone white. ‘I didn’t know you thought that. And I didn’t know that you were everything people said you were.’
‘So you thought that I was being insincere, did you? You thought that I was a liar, even though—’ He bit the words off, swallowing them down. They were in a lift going to a party, and this was neither the time nor the place to have this confrontation.
Then he realised something else. She was the daughter of David Hunt, and once that came out, there would be interest in his past again, in the collapse of his father’s scheme, in what had happened all those years ago. Tongues would wag, and he knew how it looked. He’d seduced the woman who’d been one of his father’s victims—one of his victims…
There will be no divorce. Not yet at any rate.
Further down, beneath his anger, was something else, something that felt like pain, but he didn’t want to acknowledge that. He didn’t want to acknowledge anything at all except rage, and that he forced away, because he couldn’t give into it, not here, not now.
‘So,’ he said finally into the heavy silence, ‘I suppose I have you to thank for those photos?’
She was the colour of ash now, but he told himself he felt no sympathy. She’d brought this on herself. ‘Yes,’ she said faintly.
This time there was no shock, not even any surprise. Of course she’d engineered the photos. Of course. She was the reason he was now in this position. It was all her fault.
And you believed it, don’t forget that. It was your idea to marry her.
Oh, he wouldn’t forget. How could he? When the ring on her finger and the dress she wore was his?
‘So this is revenge?’ he asked.
She didn’t flinch, and he would have admired her courage if he hadn’t known that the only reason she was telling him all this now was because the press had somehow found out.
Another silence fell and still she didn’t look away, her shoulders squared, as if bracing for a blow. ‘I thought it was justice,’ she said. ‘What I told you in Paris was true. My father did die. He took his own life, and it broke my mother’s heart, and mine. Mum didn’t want the compensation you offered, she was too angry, so we had nothing. We had to sell the house, and then we were on the breadline. She had to work two jobs to keep us solvent, and then…’ Her voice faltered. ‘That’s when she got sick. I lost her a couple of years ago.’
He’d felt sorry for her back in Paris when she’d told him about her parents. But he didn’t feel sorry for her now. She’d had the opportunity to tell him the truth then, and she hadn’t. She’d lied to him. She’d done exactly what his own father had done.
‘My father went to jail,’ he said, fighting to keep his voice level. ‘My mother and I were left with nothing, also. Was that not justice enough?’
The look in her eyes flickered once again, darkening. ‘You were the one who convinced him to sink all his money into that scheme. And you were the one who told him there was nothing to worry about.’ She blinked, and he saw then that there were tears in her eyes. ‘But that was before I…before you told me about…’ She stopped.
Before tonight, he might have taken her in his arms and kissed away the tears. But it was tonight, and she’d dealt him a mortal blow. She’d hurt him knowingly, in the one place he was vulnerable, and he was too furious to care about her feelings.
Furious, and getting more and more so by the second.
The lift chimed, having reached the rooftop, but he put his hand on the button, keeping the doors closed. ‘You worked for me for a year,’ he snapped, unable to help himself. ‘Did you not think, even for one moment, that I might have been a victim of my father, just as yours was? Did you really think that everything I’ve done to put right what he did wrong was a lie? That I didn’t mean any of it?’ His voice had risen, but he didn’t try to quiet it.
Flora was still facing him, her chin high, but she was starting to tremble now and a tear had escaped one eye, slowly tracking down her cheek.
He was too angry to care about her tears. If she was hurt then good. She’d hurt him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was wrong.’
He didn’t bother to ask himself why this mattered to him so much, why she mattered to him so much. He didn’t bother to question why the sight of that tear made him feel an obscure kind of pain.
He only knew that he was angry, and there was an event they needed to get through, and none of what was happening between them could be allowed to show in public.
‘It’s too late for that,’ he said coldly. Then he reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it tight within his.
She stiffened. ‘What are you doing? You can’t want me to go with you now.’
‘No, I don’t,’ he said, brutally honest. ‘But if your background comes out, what do you think people will say if I divorce you? If they think you seduced me, charmed me into believing you were who you said you were, I’ll be a laughingstock. And if I get rid of you, I’ll be the bastard who kicked one of the victims of my father’s scam to the kerb. Either way, my reputation will suffer, so, yes. You’ll have to come to the party with me, just as I’ll have to pretend I knew who you were all along.’
He took his finger off the button and the doors slid open.
‘Come,’ he said brusquely. ‘We have a party to go to.’
And he stepped out of the lift, into the noise and lights of the bar beyond.