CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
Flora’s heart was beating so loud and so fast she wondered if she might faint.
The event was being held in a lavish, eighteenth-century palace that had been lit up like Versailles, with lights that mimicked flickering candles. At the front was a set of magnificent sweeping stairs, where the paparazzi had gathered like flies, taking photographs of the rich and famous as they made their way inside.
The gala was for a well-known children’s charity and Helios was a major donor, hence Apollo’s invite. Normally, Flora would have leaped from the limo first before rushing around, managing his timetable for the evening, checking guest lists and making sure the people he wanted to speak to were available, not to mention also ensuring that the people who wanted to speak to him did so.
But now it was different. Now, she was on his arm, and there was nothing to manage but her own reckless hormones, which was turning out to be far more difficult than she’d ever imagined.
Back in the Constantinides residence, before they’d left, he’d taken her in his arms and she’d been powerless to move. Powerless to resist. He’d drawn her close, one large hand pressed to her hip, the other cupping her cheek, and she hadn’t been able to think.
He’d been so gentle with her, that was the trouble, and it was something she hadn’t expected. That such a cold, blunt man could ever have such gentleness inside him had been a surprise, let alone him turning it on her.
He would never let the press hurt her, that’s what he’d promised, and some part of her very much wanted to believe that. Some part of her very much wanted his protection, and that was insanity. She’d believed her father when he’d told her he’d always look after her, and look how that had ended.
Apart from anything else, he was also the man who’d caused her father’s downfall, so how could she want that from him? He could she want him, full stop?
She didn’t understand, but not knowing didn’t change the fact that she did, in fact, want him, no matter how much her mind told her that it was wrong.
Not that she had much time to think about it, because Apollo had now got out of the limo and was in the process of opening the door for her, letting in a sudden cacophony from outside, people shouting and calling and clapping.
Now was the moment of truth. Now she had to get out of the car and present herself to the world as Apollo’s fiancée. Now she had to pretend that she was desperately in love with him, and had crossed all kinds of boundaries to be with him.
Now she had to ignore the fact that this entire situation was of her own making and that if she had anyone to blame for it, it was herself.
Gripping hard to her courage, Flora had no choice but to step out of the limo.
Instantly they were mobbed by paparazzi, all calling out to her and using her name, as if they knew her. She felt momentarily bewildered by the scrum, not knowing where to look or how to respond. Then Apollo’s hand came to rest gently at the small of her back, the warmth of his powerful figure beside her as he urged her up the stairs.
‘Ignore them,’ he murmured in her ear, his breath warming her skin. ‘We’ll walk to the top of the stairs and then pause to give them a photo op. Relax and follow my lead.’
So she did, allowing the pressure of that warm hand resting at the base of her spine to guide her as she climbed the stairs, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t fall flat on her face. It had all seemed so much easier when the attention wasn’t on her, when she was merely managing the situation rather than taking part.
At the top of the stairs, she turned around when Apollo did. and when he slid an arm around her waist as the cameras flashed, she let herself rest against his side so the press could get their photos.
She was very conscious of the questions people were shouting at Apollo, such as how did he reconcile his business practices with an affair with his PA? Had they slept together? What did Violet think? Was he worried that he might lose some major investors? Et cetera, et cetera. Then there were the questions shouted at her, such as who made the first move? Was she still his PA? Did she have any comment about the rumours that Violet had stormed into the Helios offices demanding an explanation?
‘Ignore those questions too,’ Apollo said quietly, somehow making himself heard beneath the cacophony. ‘Flash the ring and smile.’
So she did, the smile feeling forced and fake.
‘Yes,’ Apollo said, answering one shouted question. ‘Flora is my fiancée, and we’ll be getting married as soon as we can. And yes, Violet has given us her blessing. If you have any more questions, please direct them to my PR people.’
Then, without saying anything further, he turned around and stalked inside the building, ushering her along with him.
Inside it was less chaotic, with music from a string quartet playing, the interior of the old ballroom lit by glittering chandeliers, with bouquets of white roses overflowing from urns and vases and large copper buckets. Wait staff circulated, carrying trays of various drinks and small canapés.
Apollo snagged them both a couple of tall flutes of champagne before finding a quiet part of the ballroom near some stairs.
She was breathing fast, her adrenaline spiking, making her feel as if she’d just taken a trip on a wild and terrifying rollercoaster.
‘You did well on the stairs with the paparazzi,’ Apollo said, his attention on the crowd in the ballroom. ‘Now we have to be convincing for everyone else.’
Flora took a steadying sip of champagne, the dry yeasty flavour exploding deliciously on her tongue. Now she was here, and the initial chaos of the photographers was over and done with, she felt better.
It was fine, she could do this. Her hormones might be all over the place when it came to Apollo, but all she actually had to do was trust in them. She didn’t have to hide her attraction to him here. In fact, hiding it was what she shouldn’t do.
She just had to remember that her very real feelings were supposed to be an act.
You also have to remember that the potential for all your secrets to come tumbling out has never been higher.
The shard of ice that had lodged inside her the day before, when Apollo had told her how he’d solve the issue of the photos, seemed to gain sharp edges.
It wouldn’t take much interest from the media to blow her fragile cover, and given the scrum on the way in, the media would want to know. They’d want to know who she was and where she’d come from. What exactly was it about her that was enough to tempt a man such as Apollo Constantinides. A man famous for his spotless, impeccable reputation.
But now she was caught between a rock and a hard place, with no choice but to keep going.
She had to hope any discovery the press made about her real identity wouldn’t be until after she’d gone through with her heartbreak plans. And if it was before? Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Right now, she had to get through this night.
‘Thank you,’ she said, a warm glow expanding in her chest in response to his praise, which was silly of her. Then again, he wasn’t a man who gave out praise often. For example the most he’d ever given her was ‘adequate’.
Wrong. He also called you exquisite, remember?
The warm glow grew warmer at the memory. She’d never even been called pretty before, let alone exquisite, and even though she might tell herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care what he thought of her, a part of her had loved that he’d said it. He wasn’t a man who dispensed compliments, so it meant something coming from him.
Stop thinking about this. You can’t let him distract you from what you’re supposed to be doing.
No, she couldn’t. She had to keep her eye on the prize, remember what she was here for, which was to get close to him. Make herself irresistible to him, make him love her. Then break that cold heart of his before anyone found out the truth about her.
Justice must be served.
Justice for her father, for her mother, and for herself.
‘Are you ready to brave the rest of the room?’ Apollo asked. ‘You can let me do the talking if you’d prefer.’
The champagne must have loosened her tongue, because she found herself smiling up at him, and saying, ‘Really? With your famous people skills? You hate doing the talking.’
His jungle green gaze settled on her, focusing with the laser intent that indicated she’d said something that had surprised him.
A dark little thrill arrowed through her. Good. That meant she had to keep on surprising him, make sure he forgot all about Flora the PA, who never teased or flirted or disagreed with him in any way. She had to become Flora, his fiancée. The femme fatale who was exquisite and surprising, intriguing and passionate.
A liar…
Flora shoved that thought away hard.
‘I’ll manage.’ His tone was brusque, but the look in his eyes glittered.
Well, the die was cast. She had to commit to her new plan and she had to do it now, when they were on display, even though her experience with seduction was nil.
She was just going to have to wing it.
Taking a risk, Flora stepped closer to him, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. ‘I’ll be okay, Apollo,’ she said, relishing saying his name. ‘Thank you for being concerned about me, though.’
He didn’t look away. ‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered softly.
‘You have a thing for hands, don’t you?’ She extended it, feeling the usual jolt as he took hold of it.
‘Just yours.’ He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed the lightest of kisses on the back of it, his hunter’s gaze locked on hers.
Another thrill shot through her at the heat of his lips on her skin, her heart beating even faster.
‘I assume that was for the press?’ She didn’t bother to hide the breathlessness in her voice.
‘Of course.’ One black brow rose. ‘Did you want it to be for you?’
She should say no, of course she didn’t want it to be for herself. This was an act, a show. This was pretend. Except what came out of her mouth was, ‘Maybe.’ And then she added, ‘Pull me in closer.’
Something flared in his eyes then, a flame, and abruptly she found it difficult to breathe. He obviously liked this side of her, because he didn’t hesitate, tugging her towards him, bringing her so close they were almost touching. She breathed him in, relaxing her tense muscles, because it didn’t matter if she allowed herself to revel in his presence, to let her desire show in her eyes. This was all part of her plan.
Then she lifted a hand to his hair, touching the thick, inky softness, brushing a strand back from his brow. A tender touch that a woman might give to the man she loved.
His eyes widened as she touched him, which meant once again she’d surprised him, and that flame lost deep in the jungle green burned higher, brighter.
Flora couldn’t look away.
Then he reached out slowly, almost lazily, and slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back, before capturing her mouth with his.
* * *
Apollo hadn’t intended to kiss her. In fact, it was something he’d told himself he absolutely wasn’t going to do. All that was needed was for them to stand close to each other, for his arm to go around her waist in a decorous embrace, that was all the touching required.
Except then he’d taken her hand and kissed the back of it, and then she’d touched his hair in a natural, familiar way, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking things further and tasting her mouth. Even now, with her lips warm and silky beneath his, he didn’t fully understand how he’d got to this point.
Perhaps it had been the way she’d touched him just before, gently, hesitantly, as if he was a work of art and she was afraid of breaking him. No one had ever touched him like that, not even when he’d been a child, and it had robbed him of breath. The silvery glints of mica in her grey eyes had been glittering, and her mouth had had the most delectable curve. He hadn’t seen her smile, he’d realised with a small, electric jolt, not even once, and that was clearly a tragedy. Because her smile was a thing of beauty, and he found himself thinking of all the things he could do to get her to smile at him that way again.
It was madness.
Madness to draw her in as she’d suggested. Madness to have her so close, the sweet scent of her surrounding him and making his mouth water. Making him remember that kiss, and how delicious she had tasted.
Madness to kiss her again, especially when he knew how addicted he was to the rush and adrenaline surge that came with doing something reckless.
Yet he just couldn’t stop.
He could blame it on the media, that it was part of their performance tonight to convince everyone that they were actually in love, but deep down he knew the truth.
He wanted to kiss her to see if the chemistry that had lit him up inside the day before was still hot, still strong, and yes. It was. It very definitely was.
Yet again, there was glory in her lips against his, silky and soft. She tasted of champagne and strawberries, the kind of summers that contained picnics and ice cream and swimming in the sea under the hot sun. The kind of summers he’d only ever had as a child back in Athens, back when his father was still the hero Apollo had looked up to, not the charlatan he’d turned out to be.
Summers where his mother had loved him and not blamed him for the ruination of their family.
Summers he would never have again.
His fingers tightened in Flora’s hair, curling into a fist, holding her tightly as he chased that sweet summer taste, his tongue pushing into her mouth, exploring deeper.
She made a husky, needy sound deep in her throat and leaned into him, her body pressing to his, all heat and softness. There was a hunger to her that he found almost unbearably sexy, because it had been an age since anyone had been this hungry for him. Violet certainly hadn’t been. She’d enjoyed his kisses, but he knew she’d been as ambivalent as he was about the thought of actually sleeping together.
Flora wasn’t ambivalent. Her blatant desire for him was the purest aphrodisiac he’d ever known, and he wanted to crush her to him, tear the midnight-blue silk from her shoulders and explore the silken curves of her body. Stroke them. Taste them. Bury himself inside them…
But he couldn’t. Not here, and not anywhere else either.
She was untouchable. She was on the other side of all the boundaries he’d put around himself, and he couldn’t cross over them. He wouldn’t. That way lay the slippery slope into ruination, and he’d already been there once before. Someone had died because of him, because he’d grown addicted to the rush, the surge of adrenaline that had hit him whenever he’d talked another person into investing in his father’s scheme.
But he’d liked the admiration and approval in Stavros’s eyes even more.
Love had led him down that slope, and he couldn’t even set foot on it, which meant he had to be on his guard.
With as much gentleness as he could muster, Apollo relaxed his grip on her hair and lifted his mouth from hers. She was delicately flushed, her grey eyes glowing with desire, and he knew it was for him. It was all for him. His beautiful PA, and yes, she was beautiful. He’d been right about what he’d said to her earlier that day. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was exquisite.
His heart was a drum in his ears and there was a tightness in his groin that definitely shouldn’t be there. Damn. What had he been thinking? He had to be better than this.
‘Come,’ he said brusquely, releasing her. ‘There are people I need to introduce you to.’
He couldn’t bear it suddenly, to keep on looking at her lovely face and the desire in her eyes, so he turned to the rest of the room and took a step towards the crowd. Only to be brought up short as she grabbed his hand, her fingers lacing through his, as if he belonged to her and she was staking her claim.
Strange to be the one who suddenly wanted to pull away. To be the one putting distance between them. Given her earlier responses, he’d expected it to be her, not him, who couldn’t bear their physical closeness.
Everything in him wanted to shake off her hand, because the temptation to pull her closer was nearly overwhelming, but he couldn’t. Not in the middle of the ballroom with all eyes on them. He’d been the one who’d decided on this lie after all, and changing his mind now would be ridiculous, not to mention an acknowledgment that his control wasn’t what it should be.
Shoving away the fierce desire that burned in his blood, Apollo made himself curl his fingers around Flora’s, holding on as he stalked towards one particular knot of people.
From then on, the whole evening began to take on the shape of a nightmare.
He couldn’t get rid of his intense physical awareness of her. There seemed to be a part of his brain constantly monitoring where exactly she was in relation to him at all times. How close she stood, whether he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, how the feel of her hand in his made it difficult to think.
Talking to people was almost impossible, since he kept losing his train of thought, and quite often she had to take over the conversation. And perhaps that was the worst thing—or possibly the best, he couldn’t decide—because then he had to watch her smile and chat easily to people, charming them, and not with the kind of manipulation his father used, but with a natural effervescent spirit that he’d had no idea she possessed.
It was like realising a previously insignificant daisy was actually a sunflower, and now it was blooming in all its glory, and he couldn’t stop staring.
How was this utterly delightful, beautiful woman the same as his impassive, unquestioning PA? In her boring black-and-white PA uniform? Who did everything he said and never complained, never protested?
He watched her now, chatting to the CEO of a global bank, as if she’d known the woman all her life and not only met her seconds ago. The CEO was smiling and laughing, introducing her husband to Flora, totally ignoring Apollo, standing tall and unsmiling beside her.
No, she wasn’t his PA tonight. She was wearing his ring. She was his fiancée.
A lull came in the conversation, and abruptly Apollo couldn’t stand being in this ballroom with her so close a second longer. Couldn’t stand the lie this was, a lie that held a component of truth he couldn’t escape.
He wanted her. It was all purely physical, nothing to do with the brightness of her eyes or the brilliance of her smile. It was simply common lust, nothing special, yet he was having difficulty resisting, and that was an issue. He had to get her away from him as quickly as possible.
Gripping her hand tightly, he said to the group at large, not caring if he was interrupting the conversation, ‘If you’ll forgive me, we really must be going.’
His words fell into the glittering edifice of the conversation like stones smashing through glass. His voice had come out harsh and blunt, but he didn’t bother tempering it. He was harsh and blunt, and people could do what they wanted with it.
Everyone stared at him in surprise, and he supposed he should murmur some meaningless platitudes and smile, but he’d never felt less like smiling.
Instead he turned and strode in the direction of the exit without another word, tugging Flora along with him.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked breathlessly as they came out of the ballroom and into the glittering hallway.
‘Nothing.’ Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he texted his driver, even as he kept heading for the front doors, his other hand still holding hers and tugging her along. ‘It was merely time to leave.’
‘Really? Right now? But we’ve only been here an hour.’
He ignored her, striding outside, continuing to lead her along as he went down the stairs to meet the limo that had just pulled up.
After they’d got inside and the doors had closed, she turned to look at him, concern in her eyes. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? That was very sudden.’
‘You know I don’t like events.’ His voice was probably too harsh, but he didn’t care. ‘As I said, it was time to leave.’ He was overwhelmingly conscious of her gaze on him. He’d been conscious of it all night. Every time she looked at him, he’d felt it like an electric shock, and it was slowly driving him insane. ‘Stop looking at me like that,’ he growled, staring straight ahead as the limo pulled away from the kerb.
‘Like what?’ She sounded bewildered.
Apollo couldn’t stand it. He turned and met her silvery gaze, unable to keep himself from glancing at her bare shoulders where her black hair licked like dark flames over the creamy expanse of her skin, before looking back to her face again. ‘How do you think?’ He snarled the words like a beast.
There was nothing but puzzlement on her face. ‘I’m sorry, did I—’
He reached for her before she could finish, suddenly beside himself with frustration as he hauled her into his lap. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t protest, and when he took her hair in a fist and pulled her head back, she didn’t tell him to stop. And when he took her mouth as if he’d been kissing her for years, as if she was his, she opened it, sliding her arms around his neck and clinging onto him for dear life.
This was a terrible idea, and he knew it. He should stop, take his mouth from hers and put her back in her seat, but he didn’t.
He leaned forward instead, still kissing her, hitting the button that activated the screen between the driver and the backseat. Then he kissed her deeper, harder. Sliding his tongue into her mouth and exploring, feasting. She was a delectable treat, tasting of all those long-forgotten summers, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. He was quite sure he’d never tasted anything as delicious as she was.
Flora gave a soft little moan in the back of her throat, the way she’d done back in the ballroom, and he dug his fingers into the soft black mass of her hair, closing them into fists. Pulling her head back further so he could taste her deeper.
Her body was pliant as warm wax, no resistance in her at all, as if she too had been waiting for this moment between them, as if it had been inevitable, only a matter of time.
And maybe it was. Maybe this chemistry between them had only been hidden, buried and smouldering, waiting for the right moment to catch alight and burn bright.
You were supposed to keep your hands off her.
He was. Now, though, it was too late. He was crossing boundaries he shouldn’t be crossing, the self-imposed boundaries he’d put there for the good of his reputation and to protect people. Protect them from him.
But he didn’t think he could stop. Certainly not with her fingers tugging at his tie, trying to undo it so she could get at the buttons of his shirt. She kept shifting her weight in his lap, and the pressure against his aching groin was maddening.
He had to do something to stop this, or else he’d fall all the way down that slippery slope to the bottom.
Gathering all his considerable will, Apollo wrenched his mouth away, holding tight to her hair to keep her still. ‘This should not happen,’ he growled.
Her eyes were black in the dim interior of the limo, her mouth full and red and open as a flower. ‘Why not?’ Her own voice didn’t sound much better than his.
‘Because you work for me. Because I’m your boss.’
‘So?’ She touched his jaw, her fingertips lightly tracing the line of it. ‘I don’t care if you don’t, and everyone thinks we’re already sleeping together.’
The caress of her fingers… It made him want to grab her hand, maybe bite her fingertips, nip them, watch her face while he did it and see if she liked it—
No. He had to stop this and now, while he still could. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to touch her, and if he couldn’t control simple lust, then what kind of man was he?
The kind who ruins people. The kind who sold out his own father.
‘No,’ he said flatly, both to her and the voice in his head.
But she ignored him. ‘Apollo.’ Unexpectedly, she took his chin in her hand, holding him the way he’d held her the day before. ‘Look at me.’ Her skin was so beautifully flushed, her hair tangled. She looked like a woman well tumbled already, and they hadn’t done more than kiss. ‘I want you,’ she went on. ‘I want you badly. And it doesn’t have to mean anything, not if we don’t want it to. We could just have one night. Just one. We’re not hurting anyone, and the next day we’ll go back to pretending.’
She let go of his chin, her fingertips sliding down his throat, to where his pulse beat hard, resting there. She didn’t look away from him, her eyes a dark sea he could fall into and drown in. ‘Please. Please, don’t make me beg.’
His control should have been strong enough to resist her. In fact, it should have been easy. But it wasn’t and easy was the last thing it was. His brain felt full of treacle, the usual smooth turning of cogs and gears heavy and sticky. It seemed to take a lot of effort to even think why he was supposed to keep his hands off her, especially when something inside him kept straining at the leash he’d put on it, wanting to break free. The wild, reckless part of him, which he’d imprisoned the night he’d picked up the phone and called the police.
One night. What would it hurt? She wanted him. And the way she looked at him, as if she might die if she didn’t get to have him, was making him harder than he’d ever been in his entire life.
‘One night,’ he ground out eventually. ‘Just one.’
Her eyes seemed to catch fire then and he couldn’t wait. Just couldn’t. The leash on his control broke, and he was leaning forward, taking her mouth in a savage kiss before she could speak.
She didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t courteous or restrained. She only sighed as if in relief, as if his kiss was cool water on a burn, taking away the pain, making it better. Then her hands resumed their attack on his tie, clawing at the fabric and the shirt buttons beneath it, as hungry for him as he was for her.
She wasn’t lying. She did want him.
The desire raging inside him had fully broken away and, like the tide, there was nothing he could do to stop it from swamping him. Nothing mattered. Not where they were, not who they were. Nothing except this relentless, aching hunger, and the surge of adrenaline spiking in his blood, flooding him with that familiar recklessness.
He took her hands and pulled them away from him, because that touch of hers was too much, putting them behind her back and imprisoning her wrists in an iron grip. Then he looked straight into her darkened eyes. ‘Here,’ he demanded. ‘Now.’