Apollo's 11

by Anna Collins

  Grade school was a long time ago, okay?

  “It’s fine if you haven’t read it,” Apollo said, smiling as though he knew what I was thinking.

  Phew. But still, I assumed it was “required reading” for this job.

  Cassandra materialized again to take our plates. “How was the first taste?” She asked, somewhat flirtatiously. She focused her question on Apollo, though she glanced my way.

  “Perfect, Miss Winick,” Apollo said, smile smile.

  “Great,” I said, but I was sure “Miss Winick” didn’t hear me from the way she goo-goo-eyed Apollo and accentuated her butt sway walk back to the kitchen. Again, Apollo didn’t turn to appreciate the walk, so I was the only one to get an eyeful. Lucky me. Though, honestly, I’d have killed for an ass like that. Mine was ample, sure, but I didn’t exactly have the thigh gap to go with it.

  “You’ve got an admirer,” I said, keeping my tone even. I wasn’t jealous, of course, but I was curious how Apollo dealt with such feminine interest, particularly from someone of a lower socioeconomic class.

  He turned to look at Cassandra, catching a couple of steps of her swaying hips. She caught him looking for once, and flashed an over-the-shoulder supermodel smile. When Apollo turned back to face me, I saw he had been smiling too.

  “Miss Winick is a fine employee,” he said, taking a small sip of water.

  “‘Fine’ is one way to put it.”

  I expected him to blush or at least be thrown off balance by the comment, but he remained as stoic as ever. Real poker-face, this one.

  “And here I thought you were into men,” he said, with a slight tug at the corner of his lips.

  Okay, he deflected that one good. I nearly choked on my drink, not sure if I should laugh or gasp. He could be a smartass! There was hope yet!

  “I am very much into men, yes.”

  “’Very much.’” He gave a playful tweak of his eyebrows.

  Finally, he was sending some of that charm my way. It wasn’t just reserved for sexy waitresses.

  “Maybe you are too,” I said. “Not judging.”

  He laughed, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows casually on the table.

  “I’m afraid not. You can consider me very much into women.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “And yet I haven’t seen many pictures of you on a date. No red carpet shots with a model hanging off your arm. And you must be a good way into your thirties now, yet there’s no ring on your finger.”

  “I try not to be overly public about my affairs.”

  “‘Affairs,’ is it? Prefer spoken-for women?”

  I realized too late we seemed to be flirting. Even if we weren’t, this probably wouldn’t have been a conversation Nick would approve of. Somehow I felt my foot bump his ankle—maybe he slid his legs forward when he leaned in? I pulled my leg back carefully so as not to seem like I was retreating, but I may have inadvertently given the impression I was giving his ankle a flirtatious caress. Damn it…

  Before Apollo could respond, someone entered the restaurant. We couldn’t make out who it was through the stack of firewood, but when the man came around the display and into view, I instantly recognized who it was.

  Perseus Irons. Apollo’s brother.

  “Christ, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “Would it kill you to keep your cell phone on for five minutes?”

  Apollo sighed through his nose. “Callie, this is Perseus. Perseus, this is Callie Cohen.”

  Perseus seemed to notice me for the first time. He had similar features as Apollo, but more narrow, almost feminine. His hair was the same raven-colored black, but shorter and with a waviness to it. He wore trim, chalk-striped navy suit, a gray tie with horizontal purple stripes, a light-blue shirt and matching pocket square, and almond brown leather shoes. Certainly more colorful than his brother—and all that blue made his icy eyes seem to glow.

  “My apologies, Ms. Cohen,” Perseus said, hand on his breast with sincerity. He gave me the same monitor-cracking smile my article featured, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t swoon just a little. “Perseus Irons,” he continued, extending a hand. I took it and returned his smile. His hand wasn’t as large or rough as Apollo’s, but it had a long-fingered cleverness to it all the same. More bamboo than oak.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said reflexively.

  “Charmed,” he replied, blue eyes aglow.

  “What is it, Percy?” Apollo cut in.

  Perseus turned his gaze to Apollo, all warmth in his features gone. “You haven’t heard from Helen, have you?”

  “Nobody knows what Helen’s up to,” Apollo muttered. “Unless they have Snapchat.”

  “Well I do have Snapchat, and it looks like she spent her Friday night in the company of the Ridleys.”

  Apollo looked up at Perseus and frowned. “The twins?”

  Perseus nodded. “Had more than a few drinks—among other things. I know we decided not to throw her back in rehab so soon, but Dad would want—”

  “She’s free to make her own poor decisions,” Apollo said, though he looked unnerved.

  “She’s an Irons,” Perseus persisted. “And she’s so damn public about everything she does. Her actions reflect back on…” He looked at me, the seriousness of his expression disappearing into cool confidence. “I’m sorry, Ms. Cohen, this must be terribly uninteresting for you. It’s a family matter.”

  “Call me Callie,” I said. Really, I wasn’t bored. I was half inclined to pull out my iPad and start recording notes. I knew Helen was Perseus and Apollo’s sister, but I didn’t know who the Ridley twins were. Something to Google later…

  “Callie,” said Perseus, “What a fantastic name; it rolls beautifully off the tongue.” Another panty-melting smile. This might have been the greatest lunch hour of my life. “I hope I’m not ruining your date.”

  “It’s not a date,” Apollo and I said together. Apollo continued with, “She’s interviewing for an assistant position.”

  Perseus flashed a look of interest. “I think you should hire her on the spot,” he said. “She’ll be aces. I can tell.” Another charming grin. “I said as much about Daphne. Oh, damn, I hope you’re not replacing her? There I go, putting my foot in my mouth again. Well, Daphne was a fantastic assistant, so—”

  Apollo looked furious. “I’m not firing Daphne,” he growled. Then he stood up, leaning closer to Perseus. I could barely make out what he said. “I conduct my business, you do yours.”

  “Helen is our responsibility,” Perseus replied, the cocky charm in his voice turned to venom. “Dad made that clear before he left us. You can’t ignore your family forever. Especially now, with the Ridleys involved.”

  “Don’t mistake patience for inaction,” Apollo said. They were giving each other the staring contest of a lifetime—it was an intense sight to behold. Just looking at one of them was petrifying enough, but seeing them both stare each other down was like a battle between gods.

  Before any more words were exchanged, Cassandra returned with the next course.

  “Mr. Irons,” she said. “It’s so good to see you again. Will you be joining the table?” She put down the twin bowls of—Jell-O? With peas? Or… holy shit was this caviar?—and beamed her supermodel smile at Apollo. “Your brother has been a delight.”

  She not-so-subtly put her hand on his arm. I had a feeling she’d had more than a couple of sips of whatever her favorite drink was. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked happy as hell. But then, there were two gorgeous billionaires in front of her. Of course, she was happy.

  Perseus’ eyes flicked down to Cassandra’s hand as it lingered on Apollo’s bicep.

  “I just stopped by to deliver a message to my dear brother,” Perseus said. “Another time, perhaps, Cassandra.”

  “Soon, I hope,” she said. Gag.

  “Soon,” Perseus promised. He looked down at me, inclined his body a little, and said, “A joy to meet you, Callie.”

  The way
he said it made my heart flutter. He had apparently practiced his manners, but his words had a genuine tone to them, too. I felt important like he was humbling himself before me. Unfortunately, I was not as good with words. “You too,” was all I could think to say.

  Each Irons brother clashed over eye contact again, briefly this time. “Apollo,” Perseus said. “Find me when you’re serious about repairing our family name.”

  “Good afternoon, Percy,” Apollo said icily.

  With that, Perseus gave us ladies another winning smile before exiting the restaurant. Cassandra followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight.

  Apollo sat back down, visibly perturbed. He said, “This will be okay for now, Cassandra.” So much for using respectful surnames.

  Taken out of her Perseus-trance, she said, “Oh, of course. I’ll return with your next course in a moment, Mr. Irons. Ms. Cohen.”

  “Ms. Winick,” I said, once she was out of earshot.

  Apollo said, “We won’t have any more interruptions.” His way of apologizing, I guessed. “But now is as good a time as any to get to business. Are you still interested in the job?”

  I wasn’t so sure when I got here, but now? With family drama, twin enemies, and a sexy brother?

  How could I say no?

  “Oh, I’m very interested,” I said, utterly failing to hide a mischievous grin.

  Luckily Apollo didn’t look suspicious. In fact, he mirrored my grin.

  This was going to be fun.

  Chapter Ten

  Callie

  I lost count of the courses at Saison. More than a dozen, definitely—rare fish and truffles and rolls and toffee and soufflés and oh my God I hadn’t eaten so well in my life. And there was entertainment, too, as Cassandra got tipsier and tipsier, touching Apollo’s arm or shoulder whenever she had the chance, laughing at his comments even when he wasn’t trying to be funny.

  Apollo didn’t seem interested, though. He played along, but never took it to an overtly flirtatious point. He was so controlled about it, too, like he could play at the edge of a cliff with no fear of toppling over. It was interesting to see—and at least a little bit cathartic seeing the buxom blonde get ignored while Apollo focused all his attention on me.

  He retold his life story to me, much as it was already written down in the current draft of the autobiography. I pulled out my iPad after the third course—sea bream with monkfish liver and a fried cherry blossom leaf—and began taking notes. The tablet amused Apollo, who couldn’t imagine taking notes with anything other than a pen and paper.

  “You’re such an old man,” I said.

  His eyes smiled. “The tablet suits you. Don’t concern yourself over my rambling thoughts.”

  I didn’t take particular note of most of his macro-level life events. They were all recorded in his autobio already, and a Wikipedia search would uncover most of the same details. Instead, I wrote down his little observations, his laughs, and his notes of frustration or anger. If I could discover how he felt about those big moments in his life, I would know how to frame them. And maybe I’d be able to eventually ask him more intimate details.

  When the meal was done, Cassandra gave us some napkins to dab away any remaining food—but really, she used that as an excuse to give Apollo her number, written girlishly in red ink on the napkin. He stuffed it into his pocket.

  “Saving that for later?” I asked, smiling knowingly.

  “It would be rude to leave it on the table,” Apollo replied. “Never disrespect those who handle your food.”

  “That’s a good proverb. Another one is, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’”

  Apollo chuckled. “I’ll be sending Cassandra a thank-you letter for her excellent service. She won’t feel scorned. I’m pretty good at the gentle let-down by now.”

  So he wasn’t interested in the voluptuous Barbie doll. Interesting. “Hashtag humble brag,” I said, teasing him.

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It’s an internet thing. Also, you’re old.”

  “I’m in the prime of my life, thank you very much.”

  I couldn’t help it. I looked him up and down. “No arguments here.”

  He smiled wolfishly. “I didn’t think so.”

  The way he showed his teeth, made my knees weak. Another one of those flight or mate reactions. I could hardly stand without sinking back down when it was time to leave the restaurant, but somehow I found balance when Apollo offered his hand to help me up. He was older, but only by eight years or so, and he was a thousand times more gentlemanly than any man my age. In any case, I really needed to stop flirting with him… Not only was I spoken for, but he was effectively my new boss. Not the most professional way to start a working relationship, Callie…

  On our way out of the restaurant, Apollo personally thanked each chef, exchanged pleasantries with them, and introduced me as his “new assistant.” They congratulated me on my new job and asked if I enjoyed everything, which I said I did. The assistant thing annoyed me a little, but I knew what I was signing up for.

  Literally so; Apollo had the non-disclosure agreement handy and got me to sign it during the meal. It was just as he had said before, no printed credit, and I’d be unable to tell anyone what I was really doing for Apollo.

  This meant I’d have to come up with a way to convince Nick I got a different job…

  On the plus side, he was paying me over a hundred dollars an hour. Ka-ching for me, but pocket change for him.

  Outside the restaurant, Apollo walked me over to my car. I had this strange first-date feeling, wondering if he was going to kiss me or hug me or try to stick his tongue down my throat. None of those options made any sense, though, so I didn’t know why my stomach was fluttering so much. Maybe it was all that exotic seafood.

  “This is me,” I said when I reached my vehicle—a red 2012 Volvo. Not quite as sexy as a California Spider, but it got me around.

  “I’ll see you at seven tomorrow,” Apollo said. We’d already worked out the arrangement. I’d meet him at his home in Portola Valley early in the morning, he was quite the early riser—six o’clock was sleeping in, and I’d shadow him throughout the day, taking notes on my iPad while pretending to be an assistant.

  I started warming up to the idea, as silly as it was to pretend to be doing a different job. It was kind of like being a spy—faking an identity to worm my way into learning all those private details. Okay, that sounded more perverted than I intended.

  “Roger,” I said, remote-unlocking my car. “Thanks for lunch, Apollo.”

  This was it. This was the big kiss!

  Except, you know, it wasn’t. At all. Because why ladies and gentleman?

  It wasn’t a date!

  Then… why was he leaning in?

  He bent slowly at the waist, eyes narrowing on my mouth. Oh, God. Instinct led me to lift myself onto my toes, tilt my head to the side, my chin up. My eyes sank shut. Oh God, oh God. What was I doing? What about Nick? What about the job? What about—

  I felt him pinch the side of my mouth. Not roughly, just brushing his finger and thumb over the corner of my lips. My eyes shot open. He wasn’t as close as I thought—rather, he was inspecting my face from several inches away. It was then that he lifted his pinched finger and thumb and showed them to me.

  He was holding a stray eyelash.

  “Make a wish,” he said.

  My eyes locked with his. It was a stupid wish. A foolish, juvenile wish. An unfair wish, for me and especially for Nick.

  But when I blew that little eyelash out of Apollo’s grip and into the open air, I wished for that fairy tale dream without regret. A happily ever after. A love story.

  “I didn’t expect you to believe in wishes,” I said as though trying to distract him from sensing my wish.

  “Chase a wish long enough and hard enough and eventually you’ll catch it,” he said. “The trick is to never stop chasing.”

  He opened my car door for me
.

  “Good evening, Callie.”

  I wanted there to be more. I didn’t want him to go away.

  But I had a real life to get back to. At least for now. So I sank into my car and let Apollo close the door. He waved. And then he left.

  What were the odds my Volvo would catch his Ferrari in a car chase?

  Yeah. That probably wasn’t what he meant.

  I’d be seeing him tomorrow, anyway. At his house. Where he lived alone. And I’d be with him all day. And the next day. And the next. I’d have to pretend to be his assistant. Pretend to schedule his meetings. Pretend not to care I’d be doing it all without credit.

  Pretend I wasn’t falling in love with him.

  What the hell did I just sign myself up for?

  Chapter Eleven

  Apollo

  Wrong move, Apollo. My consciousness had been berating me for the past hour over that “business meeting” that looked and felt more like a date than anything else.

  The first few minutes of our meeting were painfully tense, especially when I got around to talking about my grandfather and the car he left for me. I didn’t expect that I would be opening up to her so fast, and I was grateful she broke the ice by joking she should’ve started writing it all down. She was right; I did keep my guards up, but I tried the whole wearing my heart on my sleeve, and it didn’t turn out well. I wasn’t too keen on doing it again.

  After that, we exchanged semi-playful banters back and forth while she continuously poked and prodded me over my non-existent interest of Ms. Winick. I kind of liked the miffed expression on her face every time Ms. Winick interrupted our conversation to serve us food or tried to flirt with me, though. Watching her squirm and try to control herself from snapping at the waitress made me want to laugh, especially since I could tell she didn’t want or understand why she was feeling that way. Our meeting wasn’t a date, and she was already spoken for.

  But even when I knew very well that she was already in a relationship, with one of my employees, I might add, that didn’t stop me from wanting to pull her up against me and ravage her pretty little mouth when I walked her to her car.