The Greek's Unknown Bride (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Abby Green

  She doesn’t recognize her husband

  But her body does...

  Sasha’s life changes beyond recognition after a shocking accident—her amnesia has made sure of that. She can’t even remember marrying Apollo, her devastatingly handsome Greek husband! Although she does remember their intimate, searing passion...

  Then Sasha discovers the truth behind their less-than-perfect marriage and is left with more questions than ever. Why can she remember only one night with Apollo? Why does their undeniable connection trouble him so? And is their tempestuous marriage strong enough to withstand revelations from her past...?

  Irish author ABBY GREEN ended a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com or email abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.

  Also by Abby Green

  The Virgin’s Debt to Pay

  Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

  An Innocent, A Seduction, A Secret

  Awakened by the Scarred Italian

  Rival Spanish Brothers miniseries

  Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

  Redeemed by His Stolen Bride

  Rulers of the Desert miniseries

  A Diamond for the Sheikh’s Mistress

  A Christmas Bride for the King

  Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

  The Greek’s Unknown Bride

  Abby Green

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  ISBN: 978-1-474-09818-2

  THE GREEK’S UNKNOWN BRIDE

  © 2020 Abby Green

  Published in Great Britain 2020

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Note to Readers

  This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

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  This is for Orwell, my fluffy little shadow, who enriches my life and provides vital moral support when I’m banging my head off the keyboard. Even if he is on his back, paws in the air, snoring softly.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  About the Author

  Booklist

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  Extract

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  APOLLO VASILIS STARED out of the window at the ornamental lake set in lush grounds. Athens lay under a hazy smog in the distance, and the sea was a barely perceptible line on the horizon. But he noticed none of that. His arms were folded tightly across his chest and tension wound like a vice inside his body. A tension he’d been feeling for months now. Three months, to be precise.

  There was a faint rhythmic beep-beep coming from behind him and suddenly it changed. Skipped a beat, and became slightly faster. Heart rate increasing. She was waking up. Finally.

  He turned around. A woman lay on a raised bed. She was as pale as the sheets underneath her. Rose-gold hair spread around her head. There was a gauze dressing on her forehead, over her right eye.

  There were bandages around one arm. A scratch down her left cheek. All in all, minor cuts and bruises. A miracle, considering the car that she’d been driving was at the bottom of a narrow ravine about one hundred metres deep, a charred mass of black twisted metal.

  He moved closer to the bed. Her almost blonde lashes were so long they cast faint shadows on her cheeks. Her brows were darker, finely etched. He frowned. Her face looked...thinner. The bones of her cheeks were standing out more prominently than he seemed to remember.

  But then...looking at this woman in any kind of forensic detail was not something he’d done lately.

  Not since he’d looked at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Four months ago, when they’d first met. When her naked body had filled his vision and made his blood roar so loudly it had deafened him.

  He could still see her body now as if the image had been burned onto his brain. The small but perfectly formed breasts. Flat belly, gently curved hips. The cluster of tight reddish curls at the apex of her legs. Slender limbs. She’d looked so delicate and yet when he’d joined his body to hers, he’d felt the innate steely strength of her and it had been the most erotic experience of his life.

  To Apollo’s surprise and consternation, a heat he hadn’t felt in months flooded his veins. He rejected it utterly. This woman had deceived him in the worst way possible.

  He despised her.

  At that same moment that her eyelids fluttered, the door opened and the doctor and a couple of nurses entered. The female doctor looked at Apollo. ‘I need to remind you not to expect too much at first. The extent of the injury to her head can only really be ascertained once she regains consciousness.’

  Apollo nodded curtly, and watched as they tended to the machines around the bed. The doctor sat down beside the woman and took her hand. ‘My dear, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?’

  Apollo could see movement behind the delicate eyelids. For a second he found himself holding his breath as her eyelids fluttered again. As if, for a moment, he’d forgotten,
and a small part of him actually cared if his wife woke up or not.

  She could hear the voice coming from far away. It was like a buzzing bee, distracting her, tugging her away from the lovely cloak of darkness surrounding her in blissful silence and peace.

  A pressure, on her hand. The voice. Louder now. She couldn’t make out words, just intonation. Mmm. Mmm!

  She tried to swat away the pressure but it only got stronger. A brightness was pricking at her eyes, pushing away the darkness. Her head felt so thick...fuzzy. Heavy.

  And then, as if a curtain had been pulled back, very clearly she heard a sharp voice. ‘Mrs Vasilis, it’s time to wake up.’

  For a second she lamented leaving the peaceful darkness behind but she knew she had no choice but to follow the voice. She understood the words but they didn’t make much sense to her... Mrs...?

  She opened her eyes and light exploded onto her retinas, making her shut them tightly again. She became aware that she was lying in a bed. She could sense the flurry of activity around her. And also, disturbingly, the fact that in that split second she’d noticed a tall dark shape looming at the end of the bed.

  A shape that was familiar and made her heart pound for no reason she could understand.

  ‘Mrs Vasilis, can you try opening your eyes again? We’ve lowered the blinds to make it easier.’

  Experimentally, she cracked her eyes open again and this time it didn’t hurt so much. The face of a woman she didn’t know came into focus. There were a couple of other women, also strangers. They all had dark hair and dark eyes. There was a humming noise and rhythmic beeping of machines. White everywhere. Antiseptic smell.

  A word popped into her mind: hospital.

  There was movement in her peripheral vision and she looked towards the end of the bed. The tall dark shape was a man. She knew him. ‘A-A...’ Her voice cracked like rust. She tried again. ‘Apollo?’

  ‘That’s good.’

  She barely noticed the relief evident in the doctor’s voice as she took in the man at the end of the bed. He wore a dark long-sleeved top. Round neck. Soft material. Broad shoulders and chest. Powerful. But not overly muscular. Lean.

  Short dark hair. Strong masculine features. Deep-set eyes. Green eyes. She knew this, even though she couldn’t see their colour properly from here. Strong jaw. Stubble. Firm mouth. Hot, on hers. A shiver went through her. She’d been kissed by this man.

  She felt her hand being pressed. The doctor’s voice. ‘You know who this man is?’

  It was hard for her to tear her gaze away from him, as if she was afraid he might disappear. She nodded. ‘Yes...we just met, the other night. At a function.’ He frowned slightly, but she barely noticed as heat crept into her cheeks, remembering seeing him for the first time. How he’d stopped her in her tracks with his breath-taking beauty and charisma, wearing a tuxedo that had been moulded to his powerful body like a second skin.

  He’d looked bored. People had hovered around him but at a distance as if too intimidated to get close.

  And then their eyes had met and... Bam! Her heart had somersaulted in her chest and she’d never been the same since...

  Slowly it was sinking in that she was in a hospital. But what was she doing here? With a man she barely knew?

  But you do know him. Intimately.

  She felt it in her bones, like a deep knowing. But how did she know this if she’d only just met him? She tried to latch onto the question to find the answer but it skittered out of her grasp.

  Confusion clouded her brain and for the first time she had a sense that something was very wrong. A tendril of fear...or panic...coiled in her belly. She looked at the doctor. ‘What’s happening? Why am I here?’

  As she said the word I, she stopped. I. Nothing. Blank. A void. The fear grew. ‘Wait... I don’t know...who I am... Who am I?’

  Then something popped into her head. The doctor had called her... ‘You said Mrs Vasilis...’

  The doctor looked at her with an expression that was hard to decipher. ‘Because you are Mrs Vasilis. Sasha Vasilis.’

  Sasha. It felt wrong. Not her. ‘I don’t think that’s my name.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  Blank. Nothing. Frustration.

  The doctor spoke again. Soothingly. ‘Sasha. Your name is Sasha and you are married to this man, Apollo Vasilis.’

  She looked at the man again. He was definitely frowning now and he didn’t look particularly happy to be married to her. She shook her head briefly but it caused a sharp pain over her eye. She stopped. ‘But that can’t be possible, we just met.’

  So, if you just met, how can you know him intimately? How can you be married?

  A headache was forming, right between her eyes. A dull throb. As if sensing this, the doctor said briskly, ‘That’s enough for now, she needs to rest. We can come back later.’

  A nurse stepped forward and did something to a drip beside the bed. Soon that comforting blackness was enveloping her in its warm embrace again and she eagerly shut out the growing panic and fear, and disturbing questions. And him, the most disturbing thing of all, and she wasn’t even sure why.

  Two days later

  ‘We think your memory loss came from the traumatic experience of the crash. There’s no perceptible or obvious injury to your brain that we can see after the scans we did, but you can only remember meeting your husband for the first time and nothing else. Nothing from before or after. Sometimes the brain does this as a form of protection when an event occurs. We’ve no reason not to believe that in time your memory will return. It could come in small pieces, like a jigsaw coming together, or it could happen all at once.’

  Or it might not happen at all?

  She was too scared to voice that out loud.

  ‘Which is why...’ here the doctor looked expressively at Apollo Vasilis, who was a forbidding presence as he stood by the window with his arms folded ‘...you need to be monitored closely while you recuperate.’

  The doctor looked back at Sasha, who still didn’t feel like a Sasha. ‘Don’t worry too much about trying to make your memory come back. You need to focus on recovering from your injuries. I’m sure everything will return to full functionality.’

  Sasha wondered what her brain was protecting her from.

  The doctor stood up. ‘You can go home now. We’ll keep in touch to monitor your progress and let us know as soon as you start to remember anything.’

  That felt like a very dim and distant possibility. Her brain still felt as if it was just a dense mass of grey fog. Impossible to penetrate. And where was home? The doctor had told her she was English, so presumably she’d been born and brought up there.

  When she’d enquired about family, her husband had told her that her parents were dead and she had no siblings. Just like that. Stark and unvarnished. She’d felt an ache in her chest near her heart but when she couldn’t put names or faces to her parents it was hard to feel profound grief.

  The doctor left now and Sasha looked at Apollo Vasilis. Her husband. He looked as grim as he had when she’d regained consciousness. Wasn’t he pleased she’d survived the accident? He wore a three-piece suit today, steel grey, with a tie. He oozed urbane sophistication but Sasha sensed the tightly wound energy in his body. As if he was ready to cast off the trappings of civility to reveal a much more elemental man underneath.

  Ironically, the one memory she did have, of the night they’d met, she remembered him smiling. Laughing even. His face transformed from breath-taking to devastatingly gorgeous. She remembered his voice. Deep and accented.

  Except she’d been told that that night had been four months ago. And since then they’d been married. And she’d apparently moved to Greece from England. It was all too huge to absorb and Sasha found herself avoiding thinking about it too much.

  ‘Are you ready? The car is waiting outside.’

/>   Was she ready? To leave here with a man who was little more than a stranger to her? In a foreign land she had no memory of coming to? But she nodded once, briefly, and stood up, her limbs still feeling a little weak.

  Apollo picked up a bag. He’d brought her clothes to change into and they only compounded her sense of disorientation because she couldn’t imagine choosing clothes like this. Flared cream-coloured silk trousers with slits up each side, a matching silk singlet top and a cropped blazer jacket. Spindly high-heel sandals that made her feel even more wobbly.

  He opened the door and stood back. Sasha locked her limbs and walked out of the room with as much grace as she could muster.

  Apollo walked down the corridor beside his wife. She was walking slowly, as if she’d never worn high heels before, with all the grace of a spindly-legged foal. Which was bizarre because the only time he could recall ever seeing her in flat shoes had been when they’d met that first night.

  She stumbled a little and he took her elbow to steady her. She glanced up at him, her cheeks a little pink. ‘Thank you.’

  Her hair was down around her shoulders in soft natural waves that he knew she usually preferred to be straightened.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ He gritted his jaw at his body’s reaction to the feel of her arm under his hand, her slender body brushing against his ever so slightly. She wasn’t wearing the scent she usually did. He’d watched her take it out of the bag earlier and she’d tested it on her wrist, immediately scrunching up her nose. She’d looked at him. ‘This is my perfume?’

  He’d nodded. Privately he’d always had the same reaction when he’d smelled it. To recoil. It was too overpowering. Sickly sweet. She’d put it back without spraying any.

  But now all he could smell was her. Soap and something uniquely and mysteriously feminine. Her scent reminded him uncomfortably again of meeting her for the first time when he’d been blown away by her fresh-faced beauty. Her impact on him had been like a punch to his solar plexus, driving the breath out of his lungs.