by Abby Green
About the Authors
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 [email protected].
Canadian DANI COLLINS knew in high school that she wanted to write romance for a living. Twenty-five years later, after marrying her high school sweetheart, having two kids with him, working at several generic office jobs and submitting countless manuscripts, she got The Call. Her first Mills & Boon novel won the Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best First in Series from RT Book Reviews. She now works in her own office, writing romance.
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
Also by Dani Collins
Claiming His Christmas Wife
Untouched Until Her Ultra-Rich Husband
Cinderella’s Royal Seduction
Bound to the Desert King collection
Sheikh’s Princess of Convenience
Innocents for Billionaires miniseries
A Virgin to Redeem the Billionaire
Innocent’s Nine-Month Scandal
The Montero Baby Scandals miniseries
The Consequence He Must Claim
The Maid’s Spanish Secret
Bound by Their Nine-Month Scandal
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
The Greek’s Unknown Bride
Abby Green
A Hidden Heir to Redeem Him
Dani Collins
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-0-008-90023-6
THE GREEK’S UNKNOWN BRIDE & A HIDDEN HEIR TO REDEEM HIM
The Greek’s Unknown Bride © 2020 Abby Green
A Hidden Heir to Redeem Him © 2020 Dani Collins
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.
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Authors
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
The Greek’s Unknown Bride
Back Cover Text
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
A Hidden Heir to Redeem Him
Back Cover Text
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
EPILOGUE
About the Publisher
The Greek’s Unknown Bride
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…?
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.
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…th
inner. 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 he
r 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.
