CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Flora McIntyre wanted nothing from life.
Nothing except the total ruination of Apollo Constantinides.
She stood on the other side of his vast antique oak desk—placed in lordly splendour near the window of his London office—and watched with some satisfaction as he stared at the photos she’d laid down in front of him.
They were all grainy images—she’d made sure they looked grainy—of his office, of him and her in various positions. Compromising positions. In some he had his hand on her waist, as if he was holding her, while in others he was bent over her, looking as if he was kissing her. In one she was sitting on the desk and he was crouched in front her—one stilettoed foot on his knee—while his hand cupped her bare calf, as if he was stroking it.
The images told the tale of a torrid affair they’d been having with each other, which was exactly what Flora had hoped.
Eventually, after an aeon of icy silence, Apollo lifted his head and looked at her, his dark green eyes blazing with barely contained fury. ‘Where did these come from?’
He was the most coldly controlled man she’d ever met, so for him to betray anger meant he was truly in a titanic rage.
How satisfying.
Flora schooled her expression to show nothing but concern. ‘I was sent them anonymously.’
Apollo looked back down at them for a moment, muttered a curse, shoved back his chair and stood. He turned his back on her, staring out the windows to the London skyline beyond.
It had taken her six months of careful planning to get the photos, and then another couple of weeks to choose the ones that looked the most incriminating. The ones that would appear to indicate that Apollo Constantinides—billionaire investor, Nobel-nominated, well-known philanthropist, winner of various awards for his ethical business practices, including landmark sexual harassment policies—was having an affair. With his PA.
Apollo Constantinides, who’d just got engaged to Violet Standish, head of a global charity aimed at helping women who had survived such crimes as domestic violence, sexual violence, trafficking and drug abuse. Violet’s charity had won awards, too, and the news of their engagement had been the subject of much positive press.
Sadly for Apollo, Flora had just torpedoed said engagement, and she didn’t feel a single shred of regret about it. Especially when she knew for a fact that it wasn’t a love match, but a business arrangement. In fact, Flora had often wondered if Apollo was even capable of such a soft emotion as love.
He was a hard man, blunt to the point of offensiveness—his commitment to honesty was total. He was also cold, ruthless and utterly determined to get what he wanted. Really, she was doing Violet Standish a favour, even if the engagement was purely for strategic business reasons. Violet would soon learn that she’d married a shark, not a man, and Flora wouldn’t wish that on her own worst enemy.
She glanced down at the photos again and gave herself a mental pat on the back.
The photos were all part of the plan she’d put into motion years ago, after her beloved father, David, had taken his own life, having lost everything in an infamous Ponzi scheme run by Apollo’s own father, Stavros Constantinides.
That Stavros had been sent to jail and died there wasn’t justice enough for Flora. Not for the pain her mother, Laura, had endured, after David had selfishly taken the easy way out. Not for the years of living on the poverty line, because her mother had refused all offers of compensation, calling it ‘blood money’. Not for how she’d been left alone—physically, due to the two jobs Laura had to take on, and emotionally, due to her mother’s grief. Laura had eventually died of cancer far too young. Cancer she’d ignored the signs of because she was too tired and too broken to care about her own health.
Not for the powerlessness Flora had felt after her father’s suicide, then watching her mother slowly get sicker and sicker, knowing there was nothing she could do to help her.
Not for a life bled dry of hope, happiness and the promise of a better future.
No. The only justice for Flora was the total and complete annihilation of everything Apollo Constantinides cared about.
Because while Stavros might be dead, his son was still alive, and his son was the man who’d convinced Flora’s father to invest in Stavros’s scheme in the first place. It didn’t matter that Apollo had turned his father in. It didn’t matter that subsequently he’d given compensation to all those affected by the scheme, and then tried to rehabilitate the family name with his ethical business practices, and philanthropic donations. It didn’t matter that he and Violet had been jointly nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, for their charitable work in human rights and, most importantly, the rights of women globally.
As far as Flora was concerned, the only thing that mattered was never feeling that sense of powerlessness, of helplessness, ever again. And she would do that by channelling every ounce of her rage into making sure Apollo lost everything. His engagement to Violet would be the first casualty.
Flora stood quietly before his desk, watching his tall, powerful form as he directed the full force of his fury to the cityscape beyond the glass, and allowed herself a small, private smile.
She’d spent three years at Helios Investments, his investment company, initially as a junior secretary in the HR department, before steadily working her way up the chain, until she’d finally landed the position she’d been aiming for. Apollo’s PA.
She’d been in that position for a year now, gaining his trust, making herself indispensable. He had no knowledge of her links to Stavros’s scheme. He didn’t know who she was—her parents hadn’t been legally married, so she’d kept her mother’s name as her own legal surname—and she’d make sure he never would.
Hiding those links hadn’t been difficult, despite him being a very sharp, astute and intelligent man. After all, no one was particularly interested in the family history of one of his employees, even if that employee was his personal PA. She’d passed all the stringent background checks he ran on all his staff, signed the NDAs that were mandatory, and no one had said anything to her.
It had been easy.
There was, however, one small problem with Apollo Constantinides. One teeny, tiny issue she’d never completely managed to solve. And that was the fact that he was literally the hottest man she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting, and every time he got close—every time he even looked at her—her heart would beat fast and her mouth would go dry.
She hated it.
She hated his beauty.
She hated him.
Six foot three, with short black hair. Eyes the colour of a deep, dark jungle, with winged soot-black brows. A straight nose that harkened back to his Greek heritage, and a mouth that haunted her dreams. He was also intensely charismatic, with the sort of authority that made emperors kneel. He held the whole world in the palm of his hand and he knew it.
And that had made every one of those compromising photos she’d taken an enormous trial, because of how near she had to get to him. It had been a test of both her resolve and her ability to dissemble, but she’d aced it, if she did say so herself.
Not that there was any doubt. Working with him as closely as she did was its own form of exposure therapy and, after those photos, she could safely say she was now fully inoculated.
Apollo turned abruptly from the window and, despite herself, despite all her bracing thoughts of how impervious she was to him, her breath caught as she was pinned by his intense green gaze.
He was in her favourite suit today—dark grey wool, tailored perfectly to his powerful figure—and a plain white shirt. His silk tie was a myriad of different greens, reflecting the colour of his eyes.
‘This is unacceptable,’ he said, his normally cool, deep voice hot with leashed anger. ‘I want a full investigation as to where they came from.’
Flora made sure none of her considerable satisfaction showed. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said smoothly. ‘I already have that in hand.’
‘What about online? Have the pictures reached the wider public yet?’
‘I have the tech department looking into that right now.’ She adjusted her expression, so it showed the appropriate amount of concern. ‘Unfortunately I think some of them have made their way into online spaces.’ And they had. She’d posted them on various platforms herself. ‘And once it’s out on the web…’
A muscle in the side of Apollo’s impressive jaw twitched. ‘Get IT onto it. I want the pictures taken down. All of them. Immediately.’ He turned back to the desk again. ‘How is this even possible?’ He leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk, staring at the photos as if he was trying to light them on fire with the power of his mind alone. Which, given his ruthless determination when he wanted something, could very well happen. ‘These were taken in this office.’
‘It seems so,’ Flora said carefully. ‘Perhaps they used a telephoto lens or planted a small camera somewhere. Those things are pretty small these—’
‘What are people saying?’ His gaze came to hers once more, a laser focus that always managed to steal her breath away. ‘What about the media? What’s PR doing?’
He did not, she noted, ask how she felt, which, considering she was also in the photos, was yet another black mark against his name.
‘I’ve informed them.’ She kept her tone cool and controlled. ‘I also made sure they knew that, despite the photos, there is nothing going on between us.’
And there wasn’t. Apollo was a model employer. He’d never crossed any boundaries with her, never betrayed the slightest hint that he was even aware she was a woman, let alone anything else.
It was almost disappointing in a way. Ever since she’d started work at Helios, she’d been looking for hard evidence that he was the same man who’d convinced her father to buy into Stavros’ scheme, yet she hadn’t found any. That didn’t mean it wasn’t there though.
David had always been looking for get-rich-quick shortcuts, and had been convinced by Apollo that Stavros’s investment scheme was legitimate, no matter how much it had looked too good to be true.
But then that was Apollo Constantinides. He’d made an art out of looking too good to be true. When his father had gone to jail, Apollo had somehow avoided a sentence himself. He’d acted contrite in the interviews he’d given in the news media. Portraying himself as also a victim of his father’s lies, garnering sympathy with his blunt honesty and his willingness to offer compensation.
Flora knew the truth though. The only thing he really cared about was his reputation, and that was it. People were there to either be used to help polish that reputation or they were seen as hindrances and got rid of. She’d personally seen him fire a man who’d been using the company credit card to pay for a few little treats of his family. It had been wrong, yes, but the amounts of money spent had been small, and the man had confessed. In fact, he’d pleaded with Apollo to let him stay, but Apollo had fired him with the same cold indifference with which he treated most people.
‘There is nothing going on between us whatsoever,’ Apollo agreed, glancing down at the photos scattered over his desk, dark brows drawing down into a scowl. ‘Inform Violet,’ he added. ‘She needs to—’
He broke off abruptly, dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His scowl deepened as glanced at the screen, but he hit the answer button all the same. ‘Violet.’ His tone softened as he said her name. ‘Yes, I’ve seen the pictures. You must know that Flora and I have nothing to do—’ He stopped, sent a furious glance at Flora, before turning to the windows once again. ‘What?’ he asked.
Flora moved over to the desk and began to gather the pictures up slowly, keeping half an ear on the conversation with Violet.
‘I realise what people will say,’ Apollo was murmuring. ‘But my PR department is excellent, you know that. It’ll all blow over and… Yes, I understand the media is harder on women. Which is why I’ll… What?’ He was silent, but Flora could feel the rage emanating from him like an icy breeze straight off a glacier. ‘We can change the optics,’ he went on after a moment. ‘You can’t possibly let this—’
Flora stole a glance at him.
He stood gazing out of the windows, his face in profile, as perfect as that of a king on a coin. But that muscle jumped again in the side of his jaw.
‘Yes,’ he bit out, his tone now icy. ‘I see. Well naturally I wouldn’t want anything to compromise the integrity of your business… Fine. Will you let me do the honourable thing at least? You can play up the part of being the wronged woman. Yes… Yes… Good. I’ll send over the press release beforehand.’
Flora couldn’t resist another private smile. Sounded as if Violet was breaking things off, which was exactly what she’d hoped. The world needed to see just how cold and ruthless he was, and she would expose him.
She’d make the world see the truth about Apollo Constantinides if it was the last thing that she did.
* * *
Apollo couldn’t believe it.
Violet had broken off their engagement.
Their wedding was supposed to be the icing on the cake, the crowning achievement of all the work he’d put into rehabilitating the Constantinides name. Marriage to Violet Standish, head of one of the world’s leading philanthropic institutions, was going to be the perfect union of two pillars of the global community.
When they’d announced their engagement—after the NDAs and other contracts had been signed, naturally—the press had had a field day. His PR department had told him that faith in the Constantinides name had never been so high and Helios’s stocks were through the roof. Everyone was totally for their ‘ship’, sharing opinions and photos and memes on every internet platform there was. Apollo had been thoroughly satisfied with the optics. He hadn’t even minded the press calling their partnership ‘ViLo’.
But now…
Violet had been adamant that their union could not possibly go ahead. Associating herself with a ‘cheater’ would irreparably damage her charity’s brand, and considering it was a charity dedicated to helping women from all walks of life and in different situations, he couldn’t blame her.
Except right now, he very much wanted someone to blame.
And then that someone to pay .
His jaw ached from clenching it, all his muscles tight with fury. He didn’t know how those pictures had been taken from inside his office—someone must have sneaked in a camera somehow—but all of those images were totally innocent. The strap on Flora’s shoe had broken, so he’d told her to sit on the desk. Then he’d kneeled in front of her to try and fix it, that was all. His hand cupping her calf was to steady her because she’d been ticklish, it had not been a caress.
Then, that one of him sitting back in his chair while she bent over him… She’d said there had been a spot on his shirt, and he’d let her double check the cotton was clean, because he’d been busy talking on the phone.
All the pictures looked compromising, yes, but they weren’t. He hadn’t touched her like that , and he never would.
Someone had set him up.
Apollo bit back the growl that formed in his throat as he furiously went over possibilities. An employee with a grudge? Could be. He was a demanding boss, and plenty of people didn’t like that, even though they were paid handsomely for it. A spurned lover? Probably not. He hadn’t indulged in lovers since his engagement, and even before that he only slept with women who wanted what he did—sex and nothing more.
A business rival? That was very possible. Helios was, after all, a global company, and there were those who still remembered his father transgressions.
Not that the question of who or even why mattered in the greater scheme of things.
He’d worked too hard, for too long retrieving the Constantinides name from the gutter his father had thrown it in, and he wasn’t going to let some nameless fool use clumsily staged photos to throw it back.
Taking a couple of silent breaths to get his fury under control, he turned from the window.
Flora was gathering up the photos on his desk with careful hands, her expression, as usual, impassive. Over the year he’d had her as his PA, he’d found her not only to be cool, calm, collected, but also extremely competent. An excellent employee, who never complained about the amount of work he gave her—and it was a lot of work, he was a very busy man.
Today she was in her normal PA uniform of a plain black pencil skirt and plain white blouse, buttoned all the way up. Her black hair was smooth and sleek, coiled into a neat bun on the top of her head, and she radiated no-nonsense competence. He’d never seen her with a hair out of place or look flustered in any way. She was as serene as a swan, the best PA he’d ever had.
Even now, even with those pictures of herself in all those positions, she seemed unflappable. No doubt she’d weather it with her usual calm.
It was different for him. He had more to lose than she did.
‘We will need to draft and send a press release,’ he bit out. ‘Violet has called off the engagement.’
No expression of shock moved over Flora’s delicate features. She was, as ever, perfectly composed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ she said. ‘How quickly will you need a draft?’
She’d always called him ‘sir’, even though he’d never insisted. It had never bothered him, but today, for some reason, it got under his skin, as did her entire cool manner.
Wasn’t she concerned about those pictures? Didn’t it matter to her? Not even for her own sake?
‘As soon as possible.’ He kept rigid control over his own tone and expression. It would not do to betray just how furious he was. His emotions were kept under lock and key; as he’d learned, there was no room for them in business. ‘You do not seem unduly concerned, Flora,’ he noted coolly. ‘And you should be. This is a serious problem, and it involves you.’
‘Yes, I understand that, sir.’ She gave an elegant little shrug. ‘But there’s not much I can do about it. The photos are in the public arena and it will be next to impossible to get them all taken down.’
Again, she said it all with zero emphasis, as if her own reputation and his good name were of no importance to her.
‘I don’t care how impossible or otherwise it is,’ he snapped icily, trying to keep the lid on his temper. ‘I want them gone.’
‘Of course, sir,’ she murmured, long black lashes veiling her gaze.
Was she placating him? If so, that was a mistake. He hated being managed. ‘I will not have the Constantinides name dragged in the mud,’ he said, insistent. ‘I want whoever is responsible for these pictures found.’
‘Naturally, sir.’ She collected the photos into a neat little stack, then began sliding them back into their envelope.
Every moment was precise, calm and controlled, and for some reason he found that extremely aggravating. ‘Leave them,’ he snapped. ‘I will be handing them on to the police.’
‘I’m quite happy to—’
‘No, I will do it.’ He really was having difficulty keeping the annoyance from his voice, which was concerning. Normally he had no problems mastering himself. Then again, the potential crumbling of the Constantinides good name was not a normal situation. ‘Since the pictures concern you and I,’ he continued, ‘we’ll need an explanation for them as soon as possible. Now, in fact. Violet and I have agreed that I will break off the engagement, and I won’t have her waiting.’
Flora’s eyes, the dark charcoal grey of river stones, gave nothing away. ‘What do you suggest regarding explanations?’
‘Denial will only stir up more fuss.’ Which was true. He’d observed that when his father’s investment scheme had collapsed. Stavros had kept up his protestations of innocence, that the scheme was perfectly legitimate, all the way to court—and then all the way to jail. It had made the media circus of the trial more intense, the sensational suicide of one of his victims adding more fuel to the fire.
Apollo would not make the same mistake. He was adept at manipulating his public image—he’d learned in a hard school after all—and the best way to deal with a media blaze was to deprive it of oxygen. Either that, or encourage the wind to turn, so the flames burned in the opposite direction.
Unfortunately, Flora was likely correct, the pictures would be impossible to take out of circulation, and attempting to do so now would only make things worse. No, the only way to play this was to not deny what the photos implied, but to take the speculation and turn it on its head.
That meant he’d have to admit that he and Flora were in fact involved. It would be a complete and total fabrication, which went against everything he believed in, but there was no help for it. His reputation and that of his company was more important. Helios was supposed to be a model employer, and it would not do to look as if he’d thrown one of his own employees under the bus. Which meant protecting Flora from any blowback was also vital.
So, how to make all of this sympathetic? He couldn’t say it was a passing affair, that wouldn’t help his cause, especially since he was her boss. His rigorous sexual harassment policies had been lauded around the globe as an example of new, progressive business practices, and having such an obvious affair would label him a hypocrite.
He couldn’t stand that. He’d never crossed the line with his employees and never would, and he believed totally in those policies. He’d drafted them himself.
However, there might be those who didn’t like his management style, who might see this as an opportunity to take him down peg or two. They might use it as an example of his behaviour to bring spurious claims against him.
So, no affair then. He’d have to claim that Flora was something more than merely his PA, and that their affair was more than merely an affair. It would have to be a grand passion, a meeting of soulmates, or something along those lines. All nonsense, of course. Love was a vice he’d never be guilty of, but it was the best way to save the Constantinides name.
People loved a romance, they were gullible like that, as he would know, since his father had taught him all about how gullible people were. How to prey on their little weaknesses, their little vulnerabilities, and turn them to his advantage. It wasn’t manipulation, he’d told Apollo. It was merely business, and where business was concerned anything was allowed.
Of course, he’d soon learned that his father’s ‘lessons’ were nothing but Stavros manipulating his own son, but Apollo had learned them all the same.
Now, though, he went still, as his brain offered him a solution that would allow Flora and himself a modicum of respectability, not to mention a way out for Violet also. A way that would limit the damage of the pictures as much as possible. It wasn’t the most elegant of solutions, since it would involve a lie. But it was a harmless lie, which would hurt no one and, most importantly, would potentially rescue the Constantinides name.
‘Then what else do you suggest?’ Flora asked, her expression still unruffled.
‘I suggest that we don’t deny it,’ he said, holding her gaze. ‘In fact, I think the perfect solution is for me to marry you instead of Violet.’