Chapter Three #2
She, on the other hand, merely picked at her food, despite it being utterly delicious.
His chef, a kind-faced older Italian woman, had seemed delighted by Astrid’s sudden appearance and had already come out once to see if the food was to her liking before retreating back to the kitchen area.
Guilty at her lack of appetite, Astrid forced herself to take another large mouthful of chicken and felt Apollo’s eyes follow the movement.
‘Eat up; we kept the dungeons underneath the estate for a reason.’ He smirked, reaching across her to grab the jug of water. At Astrid’s shocked look, he laughed low and huskily in his throat. ‘Chef Linnea won’t be offended if you’re not hungry, so relax.’
‘The food is wonderful… I’m just out of sorts today.
’ She pushed away her plate and focused on sipping the iced lemonade she’d selected from the drinks trolley.
Part of her wished she’d selected something a little stronger.
Her insides still hadn’t quite recovered from that strange moment of déjà vu in the gym and, as Apollo began casually to discuss the gym renovations he’d had installed in the house, she struggled to focus.
She knew he was making small talk for her benefit.
He was smoothing the way before getting into the difficult subject of how to rectify the PR situation that she had been sent here to tackle.
But she had an entirely different problem now, one that involved a certain scar and its connection to a night she had long ago decided to forget.
Perhaps…it wasn’t him.
Perhaps the stress of her journey to Italy had induced some kind of emotional hysteria and she’d been pulled back into the memory of the one night in her entire life in which she had allowed herself to lose control completely.
Of course, she had been in Italy many times since that fateful stormy night in Venice, but maybe her intuition was off. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe…
Memories of that night washed over her: memories of strong hands soothing the anxiety from her shoulders as they spoke softly in the dim light of the broken-down lift.
She’d been twenty-one, and it had been a few months after the break-up with her first boyfriend, Ian, and their disastrous, short-lived engagement.
She’d craved freedom and something that was all of her own choosing instead of her parents’.
At some point, soft conversation with her masked stranger had turned into frantic kissing, undressing and pleasure such as she’d never experienced in her only other sexual relationship, which had been mediocre in comparison.
She’d walked away, confident in her anonymity, considering the only reason she’d been in Italy was as part of a random challenge in her very first Elite One internship to try to win a golden helmet statue in a secret auction.
That one night had changed the course of her life in every way possible.
First, she’d failed to get the helmet and had wound up trapped for an hour in a dark lift with a stranger.
They’d used protection, but somehow it must have failed, as against all odds she’d discovered she was pregnant.
She’d tried to find her mystery lover by enquiring from the same Venetian hotel, but she’d fallen foul of guest confidentiality clauses.
She’d been sheltered and na?ve, and had gone from being the good and dutiful daughter of fiercely traditional parents to being a complete pariah.
Perhaps that was why she’d decided to hide her pregnancy for much longer than she should have in her brand-new job for one of the mid-league racing teams. One of their drivers, Grayson, had discovered her secret and become an unlikely friend and ally, demanding she be given a permanent contract as part of his personal media team with full maternity pay, and taking her up the ranks with him as his fame had grown and other teams had vied for his attentions.
She’d moved with him to Falco Roux just as their team’s PR operation was crumbling.
She’d taken the helm, becoming their youngest head of PR by the time Luca was two.
She’d maintained a dignified silence on the circumstances of Luca’s conception, only ever saying that the father was not in the picture.
But she refused to regret it; that one scandalous experience that had given her the greatest gift she’d never known she needed.
She inhaled a deep breath, doubt flooding her mind even as the details glared at her.
This could all be a wild coincidence, right?
Surely she should try to confirm her suspicions and find out if Apollo had been there that night in Venice?
Then, only then, would she try to tell him the reason why she’d nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of that oddly distinctive scar, enhanced by a clever tattoo.
Would he even believe her?
As though he sensed her inner turmoil, Apollo stood and suggested that they move their drinks to his private study so that the staff could tidy up.
The summer sun was high in the sky, a light breeze making small waves glitter beautifully across the lake.
She followed along the narrow corridor, feeling as if she were in a dream…
or perhaps a nightmare would be more accurate.
This man was her assignment, for goodness’ sake.
Her boss had all but told her that the company’s reputation hung upon her convincing Apollo to stay with the team and release a statement squashing the rumours.
If she questioned him about a random encounter, and if she was wrong about it having been him, she’d be humiliated.
But she couldn’t even begin to think about how it might affect Luca’s and her future if she was right.
She prized her simple life with her son, their home in London and her career.
They were thriving in their new routine and everything seemed to have fallen into place.