CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVEN
Flora woke up the next morning, her body aching in all sorts of unfamiliar places. It wasn’t a bad thing, though. In fact, she felt deliciously sated and delightfully lazy, like a cat after consuming a whole saucer of cream.
She rolled over in the massive bed, which Apollo had carried her to the night before, and reached for him.
Only to find the other side of the bed empty.
Frowning, she sat up and looked around the spacious bedroom, but that was empty too.
Thrown across the end of the bed, though, was a swathe of white silk, which on further inspection proved to be the prettiest dressing gown Flora had ever seen. Her clothes seemed to have vanished—she couldn’t even remember what had happened to them after she and Apollo had arrived at the house the evening before. Apollo had hurried her from the limo, taking her in his arms the moment the big front doors had closed behind them, and then…
Well, then nothing had seemed to matter, except them both being naked together, with nothing between them but warm, bare skin.
He hadn’t been controlled then and neither had she. The leash she’d taken off him in the limo had remained firmly off the whole night, and it had been the most incredible, wild experience she’d ever had. He was an insatiable, inventive lover, indulging her and himself in a few sensual domination games that she’d absolutely loved.
She’d had no idea that sex could be like that. That it could be so consuming, so addictive and, yes, addictive was exactly the word she’d use to describe sex with Apollo. Part of her had wondered if it had been amazing because she’d never had sex before, but then…
It’s not that. It’s because of him.
Flora closed her eyes, her head full of memories of the night before.
He’d been demanding and hungry, but also gentle, as if he’d been aware of her inexperience. And of course he must have been. He’d had to guide her a few times, and had done so with a patience that belied the hunger he’d shown her in the limo, not to mention a certain tenderness that had made her chest ache.
She hadn’t had tenderness from anyone since her mother had died, and she’d had no idea Apollo could be both patient and tender. In fact, there appeared to be a few things about Apollo Constantinides that she hadn’t anticipated, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
This could end up backfiring on you if you’re not careful.
Oh, it could. But she wouldn’t let it. Losing control in bed was not the same thing as losing control of her emotions, and those she was holding very tightly.
Anyway, luckily, after the question about where she lived, he hadn’t asked her anything else about herself. No, he’d had other things on his mind, and talking was not one of them.
However, she knew he’d probably ask them at some point, in which case she’d better have a few easy lies on hand to give him.
Still thinking about it, Flora opened her eyes again, threw back the sheet and slid out of bed. Then she picked up the dressing gown and wrapped it around her naked body. The silk was cool against her skin, the most delightful indulgence.
She never allowed herself pretty things. Everything she did was in service to her plans. He’d seemed surprised the night before when she’d told him she lived in a bedsit, and given the amount of money he paid her, he might very well be surprised. But she’d put all that money into a savings account; she wanted to have some funds to help her disappear once she’d finished her heartbreak plans.
Tying her robe closed, Flora then opened the door and stepped out into the ornate hallway outside. It was empty, so she went along to the stairs that led down into the main entrance of the house. As she went down them, she heard voices coming from below. One voice was very familiar, and her heart gave the oddest little leap.
Apollo was standing in the entrance way, talking in French to an older looking man dressed in black. Apollo himself was in dark trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly mussed, and he seemed to sense her approach, because he suddenly broke off his conversation and glanced in the direction of the stairs where she stood.
His eyes glittered as he took her in, and even though the white silk was very decorous, she abruptly felt as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
‘Good morning, matia mou ,’ he said. ‘Come, I want to introduce you to someone.’
She came down the rest of the stairs, and when he took her hand and drew her in close, one arm sliding around her waist, she didn’t protest. Then she noticed that the other man was wearing a dog collar.
‘This is Father Bayard,’ Apollo said. ‘He is going to marry us.’
She couldn’t mask the ripple of shock that went through her, and Apollo must have felt her instinctively stiffen, because he said something in French to the priest, who nodded and went past them in the direction of the back of the house.
Flora could hear voices coming from that direction too. It sounded as if orders were being given.
‘You can’t mean we’re getting married today,’ she said, and didn’t make it a question since the very idea seemed preposterous.
One of those addictive, fascinating smiles lurked in the corner of Apollo’s mouth. ‘ Mais oui. Indeed we are getting married today.’
Flora blinked. ‘But—’
‘I know,’ he interrupted gently. ‘I should have spoken to you about this earlier, but I had arrangements to make, and you needed the sleep.’ His eyes glinted. ‘I was not exactly restrained last night.’
As if she needed the reminder.
‘No, you weren’t,’ she said, her cheeks feeling hot. ‘Not that I was complaining. But…a wedding? Now? Today? I thought you wanted a spectacle.’
‘I thought I did too. But last night was…’ His smile turned warm, deepening that ache in her chest. ‘A revelation. So, I thought, like I told you in the limo, that getting married as quickly as possible would be the best thing all round.’ He pulled her closer, the heat of his body burning through the silk, making her knees feel weak. ‘Also, given the level of media interest in you, the sooner we’re married, the sooner you’ll be protected. Plus, this will add credence to ours being a grand passion. We couldn’t wait to be married, so we had a quick wedding on the terrace outside. I’ve already got someone from PR to take a few informal photos that can be leaked to the press.’
Flora blinked again, feeling as if she’d somehow got on a rollercoaster and now couldn’t get off. No, wait, this had to be a good thing. He was right, it would look very romantic if they had a quick wedding today, and it would certainly be in her interests too. The less time the press had to be curious about her the better, and, anyway, once she was married to him, even if her links to his father’s scheme did come out, he might find it difficult to get rid of her. Also, he still wouldn’t know her real reasons for getting close to him. If and when he eventually did, with any luck he’d be so wrapped around her little finger, it might not even bother him.
Do you seriously think it won’t bother him that you’ve been lying to him?
No, she knew it would. He’d never made any secret of the fact that he didn’t like a liar. But if the sex was good enough, and she’d already managed to get under his guards emotionally, he might, after a few days of being angry, come round. After all, it wasn’t as if she knew nothing about how to deal with him. She’d been working with him for a year, and while he wasn’t an easy man, she’d developed a few little strategies to handle him.
Apollo frowned all of a sudden and abruptly lifted his hands, cupping her face between them. ‘You seem uncertain. Is this too fast? Do you have family that should be invited? I could fly them over here if you wish, and we could wait until then.’
The mention of family caught her off-guard. ‘Family?’ she echoed blankly.
‘Yes. I know this wedding is still a pretence, but it will look strange, I suppose, if your family isn’t here.’
Flora took a silent breath, trying to think of an appropriate response. The truth was the easiest. The best lies, after all, were always based on some aspect of the truth. She just wouldn’t mention her father’s name. she’d tell Apollo he’d died in a car accident or something.
‘I have no family,’ she said, trying not to avoid his gaze. ‘My father died when I was a kid, and my mother died a few years ago. Cancer. I’m an only child.’
Something shifted in his gaze, though she couldn’t tell what it was. Sympathy perhaps? It seemed strange to get sympathy from Apollo Constantinides.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Flora,’ he said, and yes, it was sympathy she could hear in his voice. ‘That must have been very hard.’
Inexplicably, the backs of her eyes prickled. It had been a long time since anyone had said anything comforting to her, as if they genuinely felt for her. The nurses at the hospital had been very kind, but also a touch impersonal.
Now, though, with Apollo cupping her face in his hands, understanding in his green eyes… There was nothing impersonal about this. Nothing fake, either. He was being utterly genuine.
Unlike you.
Guilt tugged inside her, unexpected and painfully sharp. He was being understanding and kind, while she was…
Just a liar.
Her chest felt tight, but she pushed the sensation away. She had to keep going. She had to. Her father might have done the most senseless thing she could imagine, and she had to acknowledge her own anger at him for that. Anger that he hadn’t stayed to be there for her and her mother. Anger that he hadn’t kept all the promises he’d made.
But he wouldn’t have been in that position if not for the man standing in front of her now. She needed some justice for her father, and Apollo Constantinides’s broken heart would have to do.
‘It was,’ she managed.
‘I lost my parents too.’ His thumbs brushed her cheek. ‘Though I was an adult when they died. It’s harder to lose a parent when you’re a child.’
Was that grief she saw in his eyes? For his father? Or was it for his mother?
Not that she was curious. His losses were nothing in comparison to hers, and she had to remember that, no matter how understanding he might sound.
‘I was ten when Dad died,’ she heard herself say, even though she could have sworn she wasn’t going to give him anything more. ‘My mother and I were left with nothing, so she had to work really hard to keep a roof over our heads. She thought she was so tired was from working all the time, but…it wasn’t that at all.’
Apollo frowned slightly.
God, what on earth had made her say that to him? What an idiot she was being. She was supposed to give him a grain of truth and then lie about the rest, not the truth wholesale. She couldn’t afford to give him anything more.
‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘That’s not exactly great wedding-day conversation.’
‘You don’t need to apologise,’ he murmured. ‘I would love to know more.’
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She needed to change the subject and quickly.
‘Later,’ she said lightly. ‘Don’t we have a wedding to go to?’
Apollo’s frown lingered, as if he was fully aware of her avoidance. ‘We will revisit this, matia mou .’
Her stomach tightened. Great. Him being curious about her was the last thing she needed.
‘Sure.’ She shoved the flutter of nerves aside, keeping her tone easy.
‘Good.’ His frown cleared and he dropped his hands from her face. ‘Come. The priest will be waiting for us.’
* * *
Apollo stood on the terrace of his family’s French chateau, in the brilliant Parisian sunlight, the roses around the terrace filling the warm air with their heady scent, and watched Flora walk slowly over to where he stood.
She wore the lovely white silk dressing gown he’d bought especially for her—the quickest way he could get a wedding dress—and her black hair was loose around her shoulders. In her hands she carried a bouquet of roses she’d picked from the garden, and a delicate flush stained her cheekbones.
She really was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.
The night before had been… Well, the best of his life, if he was being honest with himself, and he always tried to be. In bed, she’d been amazing. Inexperienced, he’d thought, but hungry too, welcoming everything he’d done to her, and then not just welcoming, but issuing her own demands in return. She’d been passionate and honest and generous, holding nothing back from him. He’d never had a lover like her.
He’d woken up that morning with her beside him, and in that moment he’d known that he absolutely had to make her his wife as soon as possible. Yes, it was to protect her, but also—and this he couldn’t deny—there was an element of possessiveness in his desire for her. He wanted her to be his wife because he wanted her to be his. His and only his.
For a limited time only, of course, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t start that time as soon as possible.
No one, surely, would raise an eyebrow at a very quick wedding. It would even look romantic if the appropriate story was put in place. They needn’t have a spectacle. All they needed was a few leaked photos of Flora looking charming, and himself looking pleased, and that would handle any rumours.
He’d managed to handle the logistics fairly quickly, expediting a marriage licence and getting the rings—simple platinum bands—from a jeweller he did business with. Nothing was a problem when large sums of money were involved.
Breaking the news to Flora had been the most concerning part, since it had only been last night that they’d first slept together, and he wondered if she would find it all a little rushed. When she’d come downstairs as he was talking to the priest—in that white robe and her beautiful hair in a tangle—he’d even found himself thinking that if she said no to him now, maybe he could elope with her somewhere else, take some time to convince her that this was a good strategy.
But he needn’t have worried. She’d been surprised but had agreed to his plan, and now here she was, walking to him where he stood with the priest.
She would be his wife.
The thought made something heavy and satisfied shift inside him, in a way it hadn’t with Violet. With Violet he’d discussed every aspect of a marriage, and he’d known exactly what it would be. It wasn’t the same with Flora, and yet…somehow the not knowing how a marriage with her would be was…exhilarating. Exciting almost. Like a mystery he couldn’t wait to start solving.
He knew nothing about her, except what she’d told him about her family, and as they’d stood in the hallway, echoes of an old grief in her eyes, he realised that they had a few things in common. He too, had lost his parents. He too, was an only child.
What more did they share? What other things did he not know? He wanted to find out as soon as possible.
Flora smiled as she came to stand beside him, and together they faced the priest.
He would take things slow, though. He wouldn’t demand everything from her immediately. He had two weeks of events and business meetings in various parts of the globe, and Flora would come with him. They could spend time together, getting to know one another, building the facade of a loving marriage to the public, while exploring their physical hunger for each other in private. It was the best of both worlds, really, and he couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome.
The priest began the wedding ceremony and Apollo nodded to the staff member standing with the housekeeper, who was here as a witness. The man took out his phone and began taking unobtrusive pictures.
Soon Apollo was sliding the ring onto Flora’s finger and she was doing the same for him, smiling up at him as she did so. And for some reason the fact that this was a sham, that this wasn’t actually real, seemed…strange to him.
It wasn’t real, he knew that intellectually, and yet a current of anticipation was running through him, a degree of excitement that he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Perhaps it was the sex. Or perhaps it was that she was his PA and not a stranger to him, that he’d known her and worked with her for at least a year, but it felt as if getting married to her was almost…right.
He couldn’t imagine, for example, standing here with Violet.
The priest pronounced them husband and wife, and then it was over. Apollo pulled her close and kissed her, while the designated photographer took some more pictures.
Then he raised his head and dismissed everyone, before taking Flora in his arms and carrying her inside.
‘What are you so impatient for?’ she asked, laughing as she threw the bouquet of flowers at the housekeeper on their way past. ‘Don’t tell me, I can guess.’
He approached the stairs and started up them, Flora all warm and silky in his arms. He gave her a wolfish smile. ‘I’m sure you can. That is, if you’re not too sore from last night.’
She was blushing again. It was delightful. ‘Should I be sore?’
They reached the top of the stairs and he began walking down the hallway. ‘You might be,’ he said as they came to the bedroom. He walked through the doorway, then kicked the door shut behind them. ‘Tell me, have you had many lovers, matia mou ?’
A strange expression crossed her face. ‘Oh…uh…not many, no.’
Apollo crossed to the bed, putting her carefully down on the edge of it. She was still blushing and a thought suddenly struck him. Her hesitancy. How she blushed. How he’d had to guide her…
‘Flora,’ he said. ‘Have you in fact had any lovers?’
She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then glanced at him. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘No, I haven’t.’
A ripple of surprise went through him. ‘You were a virgin last night?’
She let out a breath. ‘Yes.’
Apollo didn’t care how many lovers a woman had had. It didn’t matter to him. And yet… Flora the night before, in the limo, he’d been demanding, rough…
‘You should have told me,’ he said, suddenly concerned. ‘I would have been more gentle with you.’
‘Honestly?’ Flora’s gaze this time was level. ‘I forgot all about it. You made me feel so good that it just didn’t matter.’
At that, something in his chest tightened. He wasn’t a man who generally made people feel good. He did good, but that was different. Doing good implied some distance. Doing good wasn’t specific or personal. Just as caring for humanity in general wasn’t the same as caring for a person.
He didn’t want to care for an actual person. He’d done that once before, and it had led him to make the worst mistake of his life. He wasn’t willing to do it again.
Except…it was important for him to make Flora feel good. That was personal.
Unless she’s lying to you. That’s happened before, remember?
Oh, yes, he remembered. The conviction in his father’s voice when he’d told Apollo that there was nothing wrong with the scheme. His outrage when it was suggested that the scheme was illegal. The glow of approval in his eyes when Apollo had convinced yet another poor sap to invest his money…
No. That approval was real. And you liked it.
Apollo shoved the thought away. His father was dead and gone now, and he wasn’t going to put his suspicions on Flora.
‘I’m told it can hurt,’ he said, crouching in front of her and scanning her face.
‘Perhaps for some people it might. But there was no pain for me.’ She gave him a heartbreakingly lovely smile, the truth plain in her eyes. Then she reached out and ruffled his hair. ‘Truly, none at all. I wondered if last night was so amazing because sex is amazing, but now I think it was just because of you.’
The tightness in his chest squeezed, a strange kind of ache.
Dear God, he could get used to this. To someone looking at him the way she was looking at him right now, as if he’d performed some kind of miracle for her and her alone. To her touching him as a lover of years might, with gentleness and care, as if he mattered to her.
It shouldn’t be important to him. This marriage was all a pretence for the sake of their separate reputations, and yet… She’d done everything he’d asked, going way above and even beyond the call of duty.
She was something special, Flora McIntyre. And he hadn’t known quite how special until now.
Reaching up, he took her hand from his hair, turned it palm up and pressed a kiss in the centre of it. ‘I will take that, wife.’ He rose and gently pressed her back onto the bed, reaching for the tie of her gown. ‘Now, let me show you how good I can really make you feel.’