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Olympia led her down a long corridor and opened a door, standing back. She smiled. ‘Your room, Kyria Vasilis.’
Sasha tried not to be self-conscious about the fact that she obviously had a separate room here too. She forced a polite smile, which promptly slid off her face as she walked into the vast room. Actually, it was a suite of rooms. They flowed into each other, no doors between them.
There was a vast bed with a four-poster frame and muslin drapes pulled back. The bathroom had two types of shower, one outdoor and one indoor, and a bath that was more like a private lap pool.
There was a dressing room and then a lounge, with its own soft comfy couch and media centre, with TV and a sound system. Perhaps, Sasha thought with an edge of hysteria, he was going to lock her in here, and keep her prisoner.
But then Olympia was signalling for her attention and Sasha followed her to the huge windows that were actually sliding doors leading outside to a private terrace, with sunbed and umbrella.
Olympia said in halting English, ‘We will unpack your things while you take tea on the terrace. Follow me, please.’
Sasha smiled, silently trying to communicate her apologies for however she’d behaved before. Olympia led her back through the villa to the main living area again and out to a shaded terrace where a table was laid out with fruit and small cakes and pastries. Tea and coffee were in two pots, or there was sparkling water.
Everything was hushed and very exclusive. Sasha poured herself some tea and could feel herself loosening in spite of herself, as if she couldn’t not, against this breath-taking backdrop. All she could see in the distance was the blue of the sparkling Aegean and the hazy outline of other islands on the horizon.
She didn’t think she’d ever been anywhere so deeply peaceful. But apparently she had been here before, so why wasn’t there even a tiny piece of recognition? Sasha fought off the feeling of frustration. She had to trust that her memory would come back to her sooner or later. It had to. And yet...with that assertion came a little shiver of foreboding.
Apollo stood in the shadows for a moment, watching Sasha where she sat on the terrace. She was wearing pale blue culottes and the white sleeveless shirt tied at the waist. She consistently seemed to choose the very opposite of what she would have gone for before.
He’d never imagined a woman in this place. There was something about the peace and tranquillity of this island that had always soothed a raw part of him and it had felt too personal to share, apart from with the islanders, of course.
He’d never brought a lover here, and he hadn’t counted Sasha as a lover when he’d brought her here nearly three months ago. It had been a strategic decision.
But much as he hated to admit it, this time was very different from that first visit. She looked good here now. As if she belonged. In spite of that pale colouring. Her hair was down and it blew gently in the breeze, the rose-gold strands wavy and untamed. He could almost see her freckles from here. Freckles she’d always seemed obsessed with covering up, apart from that first couple of nights they’d met. He could still remember being fascinated by them on her naked body, the little clusters in secret spots. She’d been embarrassed...until he’d distracted her.
Heat gathered in his groin, making his muscles tight. Hard. He cursed. It was as if she’d had a personality change. He’d seen a film once about a man who had been ruthless and uncaring and who’d lost his memory in a shooting, and how, afterwards, his whole personality had changed.
Could it be something like that? Sasha looked troubled now, as if she was thinking the same thing as he was. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to know...nothing of yourself. A curious small ache formed in Apollo’s chest. For a moment, he felt a sense of...pity? Concern?
She looked at him then, as if sensing him, and Apollo shoved down the fleeting moment of whatever it was. It wasn’t welcome. He came out onto the terrace, shades hiding his eyes from the sun. And her.
‘How do you like the villa?’ he asked, sitting down.
Sasha sat up. ‘It’s beautiful, stunning. I feel like I’ve never seen anything like it, but apparently I have. And this island...it’s so...’
Apollo took a sip of coffee, ‘Boring?’ he supplied.
She shook her head, looking away. ‘No, not at all, it’s so peaceful.’ Apollo went still, looking at her suspiciously. Her voice was husky, as if she was genuinely moved.
She glanced at him then, her mouth taut. ‘Don’t tell me, I didn’t like it the first time around?’
He shook his head, almost feeling slightly guilty now. ‘No. You looked around and asked when we were leaving. You stayed one night.’
‘Why did you bring me here the first time?’
Apollo’s conscience pricked. He ignored it. ‘I thought it would be somewhere you’d enjoy relaxing.’
‘You mean, somewhere you could hide me away? Your inconvenient wife?’
Sasha stood up suddenly, shocked at how incensed she was. ‘What about now? Is this where you’re planning on hiding me away until the divorce comes through?’
She went to walk off the terrace, her sense of peace shattered, but Apollo stood up and caught her hand. Electricity sizzled up her arm, and she bit her lip against the sensation.
‘No.’ And then, grudgingly, ‘Maybe, the first time. I wasn’t really thinking. I was still in shock that you were pregnant and how that was going to affect my life.’
Sasha looked at him, forgetting for a moment that she hadn’t been pregnant. ‘What about my life?’
She flushed and pulled her hand free, walking a few feet away. This was all so messed up.
