CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
Flora fiercely blinked back the tears as he tugged her into the bar. Her heart hurt, everything hurt, but what he’d said in the lift made sense. She could plead a headache and go back to the apartment, but she was the one who’d created this mess. She was the one who’d lied to him, deceived him. Put at risk everything he’d worked for, and betrayed the growing understanding between them.
It was the least she could do to attend a bloody party, even if looking like she was enjoying herself was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
She couldn’t believe he’d thought that everything that had happened between them in the past two weeks had been a lie. Surely he must know that it had been real. Surely… Then again, she could understand why he didn’t. Everything else had been a total fabrication, so why wouldn’t he think that?
Except her feelings for him weren’t a lie. They were deeply and distressingly real, and they hurt. They hurt so much, because she had hurt him, and that was the worst part. A month ago, she’d believed all those untruths she’d told herself, believed the worst of him, based on nothing more than her own anger and pain. And in the space of a couple of weeks, everything had changed.
She’d fallen in love with the man she was supposed to hate, the man she was supposed to ruin, and what might have been the start of something wonderful was now in ashes, and she only had herself to blame.
She’d broken his trust, and he was never going to forgive her.
She was never going to forgive herself.
Before, whenever they’d arrived anywhere, he’d shortened his stride to match hers, but now he strode ahead without slowing, his hand still securely holding hers, leaving her to trot in order to keep up with him.
Her throat was tight and she wished with all her heart that she’d never decided on this little revenge plan of hers—and yes, it was revenge. Cold and petty and mean.
She didn’t even feel a sense of relief that he knew about it now. No, all she could see was the flaring shock in his gaze and the look of betrayal that had crossed his face. Then the fury…
She’d come to love the distinct emerald glow in his eyes that was a sign of his passion. But the vivid emerald she’d seen in the lift had been nothing but rage.
Perhaps she should take some comfort in the fact that, if he’d been so furious, it must mean he felt something for her. But she wasn’t comforted. All she knew was that she’d hurt him terribly, and she hated herself for it.
The bar had soaring ceilings and massive floor-to-ceiling windows, which gave magnificent views over the city and the harbour. The decor was very minimalist, the seating upholstered in black, the carpet too, with drama and colour brought by gold light fittings.
A beautiful space, but Flora couldn’t appreciate it. All she was conscious of was Apollo’s tall figure, tension radiating from him, as he stopped by a small group of people and glanced at her. His gaze couldn’t have been colder if he’d tried, but she forced a smile on her face anyway. She would do this, she would bear it. It was the least she could do for him.
Apollo introduced her to them, even as the names sailed straight out of her head. All her attention was on him, watching him talk, his green eyes glittering. He was smiling, but she could see his rage. It was seething in the air around them, making it difficult to breathe, much less think.
She kept the smile plastered to her face, tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but it was. Everything was wrong and it was her fault.
You’re just like your father, giving out empty promises you had no intention of keeping. Betraying the people you care about because of your own pain. You’re selfish, just like him.
Something ached deep inside, something sharp and edged, cutting away at the core of who she was, hurting, bleeding.
A woman she’d just been introduced to was looking at her with some concern, and Flora knew she’d been asked a question. But she couldn’t remember what the question had been, and she couldn’t get any words out anyway, and now everyone was looking at her.
‘You look very pale, dear,’ the woman said. ‘Are you quite all right?’
Flora could feel Apollo’s gaze on her, the pressure of his anger pushing down on her, squeezing the life out of her, and abruptly she couldn’t stand it anymore. She’d been pretending for too long, the course of her life directed towards a goal that had now been revealed to be a hollow, pyrrhic victory.
She’d wanted to ruin him, and yet all she’d done was ruin herself.
Flora wrenched her hand from his and turned, making her way blindly through the knots of people until she found the doors to the rooftop terrace. She pushed them open, and stepped outside, the humid air instantly wrapping itself around her.
The massive city stretched out below her, the glittering neon turning Hong Kong into some kind of science fiction fantasy.
There was no one else on the terrace, so she stood there for a time, looking over the magnificent view of the city and the bay, struggling not to let the tears fall, feeling as though someone had ripped a hole in her chest.
‘Flora.’
His voice came from behind her, deep, rough, and she turned around sharply, swiping a hand across her cheek to make sure there were no tears. She didn’t want him to see how awful she felt. It was her problem to deal with. She didn’t want to make it his.
His face betrayed nothing, his gaze level and flat. ‘What are you doing out here? We need to show a united front, remember?’
‘Yes,’ she said, trying to keep her tone as even as his. ‘Of course. I just…needed some air.’
His cold green gaze swept over her, studying her as if she was a stranger, which was of course what she was to him now. ‘Why are you upset? You were the one who put us in this distasteful situation. Deal with it.’
His voice was like ice, and her heart ached for the warmth and the heat that she’d had for the past two weeks. The little displays of care and concern that had made her feel so good, the desire in his eyes that had made her feel beautiful.
You don’t deserve any of it. You never have.
No, she didn’t, she understood that now. And he didn’t either. He didn’t deserve what she’d done to him, and that whispered apology in the lift hadn’t been nearly enough.
She turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said starkly. ‘I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I put you in this situation. I should have known the kind of man you were when I first started working with you, but… I didn’t. I shouldn’t have done it, but…’
He said nothing.
She took a breath, and went on, wanting him to understand that the problems were hers, not his. ‘I loved my father. I loved him so much, and he always promised that he’d take care of Mum and me. That we were the most important things in his life. And then…he left us. He broke all those promises he made, and left Mum and me with nothing, nothing at all. She had to go out and work two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. And then…it was six years after Dad died that she got cancer. I don’t know if it was the stress or what, but… It was incurable.’ Her throat was tight and she had to swallow to even breathe. ‘When she died, I was all alone.’ Somehow there were tears on her cheeks, even though she hadn’t known she was crying, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. ‘After they were gone, I had nothing and no one, and I was just…so angry. Angry at Dad for leaving us the way he did, for not even thinking about the effect it would have on us. But he was gone, and you and your father weren’t, so… I blamed you instead.’ She stopped, her throat aching. What was the point of telling him this? Why would he care? It was justification after justification, and she knew it. ‘I’m sorry, Apollo. I didn’t know what kind of man you were until…’
He took a step towards her, the lines of his beautiful face hard. ‘You think I care about any of that? When you lied to me? When you put me in a situation where I had to go against everything I believed in, and lie too? After I’ve made my entire life about transparency and honesty.’ He took another step. ‘You made me a liar, Flora. You duped me, the way my father did, then you turned me into a liar like him.’
Rain had begun to fall again, a sudden and thick tropical downpour.
Flora ignored it as her dress soaked through, his words like stones being thrown at her, causing an abrupt protective anger to flicker to life.
He had a right to his anger, but there were some choices he’d made that had turned the whole situation into something more complicated than it had needed to be.
She took a step towards him, the rain making her dress stick to her skin. ‘You didn’t have to lie,’ she shot back. ‘This marriage was your idea in the first place. There were other things you could have done. It didn’t have to involve—’
‘You?’ He was standing right in front of her, as soaked to the skin as she was, his emerald eyes blazing. ‘ You involved me, Flora! You put at risk everything I worked for. Everything I—’
‘You destroyed my family!’ She shouted, uncaring who heard, all the pain and rage overflowing inside her. ‘My father died and so did my mother, and I was left all alone. Dad didn’t care what would happen to us after he was gone and, as for Mum, I was nothing but a millstone around her neck that she didn’t need!’ She kept on shouting, the hurt demanding some kind of outlet. ‘I lost everyone I loved and everyone who loved me, and all because of you!’
Apollo was so close, staring down at her, the look in his eyes electric, blazing. ‘Don’t act as if this was something you were forced into, Flora,’ he bit out. ‘It’s all about choices. Your parents had choices, and if you didn’t like them, that’s got nothing to do with me!’
His tall figure was wavering in front of her, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the tears in her eyes or the rain. Even now, even like this, hurling yet more painful truths at her, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
She took an unsteady breath. ‘I know,’ she said, in a voice thick with tears. ‘I know. I believed him. I thought he’d take care of us, that he’d never let anything bad happen to us, but I was wrong. I was wrong about everything .’ She swiped her hand over her face again and turned away, not wanting him to witness the breaking of her heart, but then a firm hand gripped her shoulder and she was pulled around to face him again.
He was breathing fast, the lines of his face taut. Then he glanced up at the sky, muttered a curse, grabbed her hand in an iron grip and strode towards the doors, pulling her inside.
Unable to break his grip, Flora had no choice but to run behind him to keep up. He shouldered through groups of people, apparently not caring that they were soaking wet and everyone was staring at them.
He led her down a short hallway, before finding a door and opening it, dragging her inside and kicking the door shut behind them.
It was a small powder room, with a couch and an armchair, and a mirror above a little vanity along one wall, not that Flora was taking much notice.
She was soaking wet and shaking with emotion. Fury and guilt and a pain so sharp and raw it felt as if someone had taken a scalpel to her soul. She opened her mouth, to say what she didn’t know, but then Apollo was reaching for her, gripping her shoulders and pushing her against the wall.
His hair was soaked, licking across his forehead like black flames, his eyes a dark blazing emerald. Her heart kept tripping over itself just looking at him.
The grip he had on her verged on painful, every inch of his magnificent, powerful body tense with fury. ‘I don’t care what you lost,’ he said through gritted teeth, his Greek accent becoming pronounced. ‘I was only trying to protect you, that’s all I was ever trying to do with this farce of a marriage. And as for breaking my heart… You’d never be able to do that, not in a million years. How could I ever love a woman who lied to me?’
She was shivering now, but it wasn’t because she was cold. Not even with her wet dress plastered to her and the air con in the room. No, it was because of him, because the heat of his body was radiating into her like a vast, dark fire, and all she could think was how had it come to this?
He’d been the target of her anger for so long and she’d told herself she hated him. Except she didn’t, it was the opposite, and now the tables had been turned. She was now the object of his anger, his hate, and the thought that she’d broken his trust so selfishly made her feel like the worst person in the entire world.
She wanted to say something, offer another apology, but he saved her from answering by bending his head, his mouth suddenly on hers, and it felt as if the very air around them caught fire, ignited by the heat of their connection.
It was a raw kiss, fuelled by rage and pain, guilt and hunger.
He bit her bottom lip hard, making her gasp, and then she was kissing him back, trying to bite him the way he was biting her, draw blood, take out this aching swell of emotion on him in some way. But he wouldn’t let her.
He grabbed her wrists and forced them down to her sides. ‘I can’t divorce you,’ he said low and rough. ‘No matter how much I want to. We have to stay married for six months to a year in order for the blowback about your background to die down. But now you owe me, Flora. For all the months you lied to me, and for those ill-advised photos. For the trust you betrayed. Do you understand?’
She was breathing very fast, her mouth full and sensitive, her whole body wanting him desperately. She wished she could tell him that he was wrong, she didn’t owe him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lie any more.
‘Yes, I understand,’ she said hoarsely, because what else could she say?
‘So here is how our marriage is going to be.’ He gripped her wrists tighter. ‘I want something in return, and that will be you, in my bed every night, because as much as I don’t want to want you, I do. You will act on the outside as if you’ve never been happier than to be in my presence. You will give me anything I want whenever I ask, and you will not refuse.’
She swallowed. ‘Why?’
‘Because I never gave you any reason to doubt me, and yet you did, this whole time. So this will be your apology. You will give your trust to me without receiving anything in return.’
‘And if I don’t want to?’
‘Then leave. I won’t stop you. But you will never see me again if you do.’
Flora knew she should take the escape he offered, run away and never see him again, that it would be kinder to both of them if she did. But she couldn’t, she already knew that. The thought of leaving him was even more unbearable than the thought of staying with him.
‘Okay,’ she said hoarsely.
‘Your agreement,’ he bit out. ‘Say it.’
‘Yes, I agree. To everything.’
The look in his eyes flared. ‘Now, I want you. And you will let me do anything I want to you, right here, right now.’ There was a cruel twist to his mouth. ‘But you will get no satisfaction from it, understand? If you come before I say so, you will be punished.’
A quiver ran the length of her body. The tattered remnants of her pride wanted to push him away and walk out, but it was too late for that, far too late. All she could feel was his heat, the smell of rain and his aftershave were making her dry-mouthed with desire. He still wanted her, that was something, and so she would give herself to him. She couldn’t do anything else.
She would give him anything and everything.
She stood there as he dropped to his knees in front of her, pushing her wet dress up to her hips, before grabbing the fine lace of her underwear and ripping it away. She was trembling by then, her knees weak, the ache between her thighs almost as needy and raw as the ache in her heart.
He looked up at her, his gaze fierce. ‘You will not touch me. That, you’ll have to earn.’ Then, without waiting for her to speak, he put his hands on her thighs and gripped them, then used his thumbs to delicately spread the soft folds of her sex. Then he leaned forward and covered it with his mouth.
A raw bolt of electric pleasure lanced through her, making her gasp as his tongue began to explore. She’d learned over the past couple of weeks that he was extremely good at this, and now he used his knowledge of her to devastating effect. Licking, teasing, stroking her so that her knees became so weak only his hands on her thighs were holding her up.
It was all she could not to grab his shoulders or thread her fingers through his hair, touch him the way she was desperate to, but he’d forbidden her. She didn’t have to do what he said, she knew that, but he’d made it impossible for her to do otherwise.
She did owe him.
She loved him and she’d broken his trust, and now all she wanted to do was make it up to him.
He did something with his tongue then that made her shake like a leaf, and she had to put her hands over her mouth to stop the cries. She tried to think unsexy thoughts, anything to stop the relentless drag of pleasure, but nothing seemed to work. She wanted to prove to him that she didn’t doubt him by doing what he asked and hold back her orgasm, but she didn’t think she could. And then his tongue sank deep inside her and she closed her eyes, screaming against her own hands as pleasure exploded around her and she was lost to it.
* * *
Apollo felt her tremble, heard her hoarse, muffled scream, tasted the flavour of her orgasm as she came, so sweet it pierced his soul. He didn’t understand that sweetness, didn’t know why it still had that effect on him, even knowing now what she’d done to him.
He was still furious, too. As furious as he’d been the moment she’d lifted her chin and told him that she’d been lying to him. That she was nothing but a con woman and a charlatan, just like his father.
Perhaps that’s why he was so angry. Because of what Stavros had done to him all those years ago, duping him the way Flora had duped him. Perhaps the sense of betrayal had nothing to do with her specifically, but was only an echo of that long-ago breach of trust his father had committed. Because yes, he’d trusted her—he’d had no reason not to—and she’d broken that trust.
He shouldn’t be here now with her. He should have continued walking through the party, pulling her along behind him. They could have left via the back way, out of the bar, without anyone being the wiser, then gone back to his apartment where he would have left her in the bedroom alone.
He hadn’t needed to drag her into this room. He hadn’t needed to tell her exactly how their marriage would proceed from now on. All he’d needed, to continue this farce, was her presence in public, not in private.
Yet, as he’d stood on the outside terrace in the pouring rain, watching her eyes go silver with fury as she’d told him about her anger, about how she’d lost everyone she’d ever loved and that he was to blame, all he could think about was how much he wanted her, even now, even after what she’d done.
Beneath his own anger, there had been the ghost of something softer, something that had ached for the pain he’d seen in her eyes, but he’d ignored it. He hadn’t wanted to feel sorry for her. He’d tried hard to hold on to his control then, but even standing amid the shards of his broken trust in her, somehow she managed to get under his skin. She’d been standing there in the rain with her wet dress plastered to her, the neon skyline making her look as if she’d been dipped in molten silver.
She was so beautiful, and all his fury, looking for an outlet, had been alchemised full force into breath-stealing desire before he’d even been aware of it.
All that seemed to matter was having her, pouring out his rage into her willing body, punishing her for what she’d done to him by giving her pleasure but no release. It would all be on his terms now, not hers. She’d given up the right to that when she’d forced him into this lie of a marriage.
‘You didn’t have to lie…’
The words she’d flung at him on the terrace outside, about the choices he’d made himself, echoed in his head, but he ignored them. He was too angry with her to accept his own culpability in this mess, and now he was too hard to think about anything but having her.
She was shaking as he rose to his feet. He didn’t touch her, didn’t bother to adjust her dress. Instead, he reached into his pocket, got out his wallet and found a condom. ‘You disobeyed me.’ He’d planned to sound cold and brusque, but his voice came out hot and rough instead. ‘You came when I told you not to, which means you don’t deserve to have anything more. This is for me, Flora. Just for me.’
She didn’t move as he ripped open the condom packet, then unzipped his trousers. Her eyes darkened even further as he dealt with the protection before stepping closer to her. He slid a hand down the back of her thigh and behind her knee, then he hauled her leg up and over his hip, spreading her open. She gasped softly, arching back against the wall, damp black hair tangled over her shoulders.
‘Do you hear me?’ He positioned himself before thrusting hard and deep, pinning her. ‘It’s my turn.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered on a gasp. ‘Oh…yes…’
He pushed deeper, holding her pressed to the wall, grey eyes gone ever darker, nearly black, staring into his as if he’d mesmerised her. ‘Why you?’ The words escaped before he could stop them. ‘Why can I not stop thinking about you? Why can I not stop wanting you?’
She shuddered as he began to move, a deep insistent rhythm that made her arch and her mouth open, soft panting breaths escaping. ‘I…have hated you,’ she said softly. ‘I hated you so much, and yet…it changed. I didn’t know…that it would.’
Pleasure had him in a vice, even as he felt her inner muscles tighten around him, holding him, giving him the most exquisite friction. ‘This could have been something.’ He slid the strap of her dress roughly down, uncovering one beautiful breast. ‘ We could have been something, Flora. But you ruined it.’
A shiver rocked her as he toyed with her nipple—her lashes lowering, her pallor gone, washed away by the flush of pleasure staining her skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so selfish. I hurt…the people I love.’
Through the building heat, he could hear the note of pain in her voice.
‘Look at me.’ He pinched her nipple hard, making her lashes lift abruptly, her gaze coming automatically to his, and he could see the same pain in her eyes too. ‘What are you talking about?’
She swallowed, her breath coming harder, faster. Watching him as he moved inside her. Her eyes were reddened and a tear slid slowly down her cheek. ‘I…l-love you, Apollo, and I hurt you. And you will never know how sorry I am for that.’
The strangest bolt of electricity went through him then, part pure physical pleasure, part a surge of what felt like joy, and over the top, another flare of anger. Because why tell him this now? After she’d conned him. Broken his trust and betrayed him.
‘Liar,’ he ground out. ‘How will I ever know if you’re telling the truth?’
‘I told you,’ she murmured, another tear sliding down her cheek. ‘The past two weeks…it was all real. My feelings for you are real too.’ Her eyes were wide and dark, and he thought she was telling the truth, but again, how would he know?
Now wasn’t the time for this discussion, though, so he didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned forward and licked her tear away, then covered her mouth with his.
He kissed her with raw passion, and a savagery he hadn’t thought was in him, pouring all his anger out and into her, and she didn’t pull away, didn’t protest. She didn’t touch him either, as he’d told her, only moved with him.
He wanted to take his pleasure first, to leave her hungry and wanting and desperate, but even in the depths of his rage, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. So, as the orgasm began to take him, he slid a finger between her legs, down to where they were joined, and felt her body convulse around his, a cry of release escaping her.
Then he was moving harder, faster, until the rising pleasure blinded him, swamping him utterly.
Afterwards, he leaned against the wall, crushing her against it, her body soft and warm despite the fact that they were both damp from the rain. She felt small and fragile, and she was shivering, and the protector in him wanted to gather her up and hold her close, to soothe her somehow.
He crushed the urge.
She’s still your wife, though. There’s no point in being needlessly cruel.
He’d never been a cruel man, and he wouldn’t be cruel now. But things wouldn’t go back to the way they were before all of this had happened either. He’d given her the new terms of their marriage, and had offered her a way out, and she hadn’t taken it. Which meant this was their marriage now. He still wanted her, and he’d be damned if he was going to spend six months to a year being celibate, but she’d get nothing else from him.
She’d betrayed him. The same kind of betrayal he’d felt when he’d walked into the office that day and found his father shredding documents, and realised that the man he respected and loved had been lying to him. Had charmed him and manipulated him into doing the most terrible things, and all for his own gain.
Flora was just like that. Charming him, manipulating him, causing him to go against everything he believed in, and all because she was angry.
He couldn’t forgive it, as he’d already told her. And he never would.
Pushing himself away from her, he dealt with the condom and adjusted his clothing. Then he turned back to her and, without a word, helped her cover herself. Her hands were shaking as she drew the strap of her dress back over her breast, and again he had to crush the part of him that wanted to hold her.
Instead he held out his hand. ‘The party is waiting for us.’
She pushed her hair back and glanced at the door, then back at him. ‘You can’t mean to go back to it. After that?’
‘Yes. As I’ve already said, it’s even more important we look as if we’re together and madly in love now, especially with your identity in question.’
She blinked, her eyes dark. Some of her mascara was running and her mouth looked red and full, as if she’d bitten it. ‘But my dress…your suit…’
‘We’ll tell them we got caught in the rain, which we did. That at least I don’t have to lie about.’
She flushed. ‘I’m not wearing underwear.’
‘You can go without.’ He held out his hand more insistently. ‘It will make it easier to avail myself of you later.’
She took his hand, which felt small in his. ‘I…don’t think I can do this.’
He tightened his grip and gave her a feral smile. ‘You’ve managed to deceive everyone beautifully until tonight. Just keep doing that.’
Her father took his own life and she lost everything, don’t forget. That’s what she said.
Yes, he remembered. But he was in no mood to hear about her past or her reasons for lying to him. His well of sympathy had run completely dry.
Flora had no answer to that, so he turned and pulled open the door, stalking back into the party.
It was a nightmare, the way that first party they’d gone to had been a nightmare. Of her, in her damp dress, with her black hair in a tangle, her mascara running and her mouth still full and red from his kisses. Knowing he’d ripped her underwear away and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Of still wanting her despite everything.
He smiled at people, made light of their damp clothes, pretended he was still as in love with Flora as ever, yet it had never felt more like an act. He’d never felt the toxic combination of rage and desire more strongly than he did right now.
They moved through the crowd, Flora barely saying anything, the smile on her face more a rictus than anything else, and he didn’t want to feel sorry for her. God, he’d even told her all about his betrayal that afternoon in bed. About how he’d found out what his father had done, and what he’d done after it. He’d talked about her father’s suicide too, and how that had affected him.
He’d bared a part of himself to her and her response hadn’t been to tell him the truth, but to distract him with sex. Well, that was fine. She’d get nothing but sex from him now.
He made them stay another two interminable hours before he finally called the car to take them back to his apartment.
He’d been planning to have her as soon as they got home, but one look into her silvery eyes told him that she was expecting it, that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
Too bad. He didn’t want to give her what she wanted.
‘Go to bed,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’m too angry for anything more tonight.’
Then he turned on his heel, strode down the hall to his study and shut the door behind him.