by Sophia Lynn
Apolo decided that it was the situation that was getting to him. Of course Trinity would be calm about this. She was an actress, trained in creating a semblance that was meant to be believable.
When she came back with his tea, he thanked her curtly for it, making her raise an eyebrow.
“So how do I deal with it when you're angry?” she asked after a tactful pause.
He scowled at her before he thought about it. Apolo was used to people scuttling away when he so much as frowned. Even as a teen, people had been terrified of his temper. Trinity, however, only looked calm and curious.
“What do you mean?” Apolo asked, his tone coming out a great deal harsher than he intended it to.
“Well, something's obviously soured your mood,” she said calmly. “What kind of relationship do we have? For example, do I tread softly and make sure that you are accommodated?”
Apolo felt his frown deepen. “That makes me sound like some kind of tyrant.”
She shrugged, completely fearless in a way that he found entrancing. “I don't have to do that. I can roll my eyes and ignore you…”
“Definitely not that.”
“Yeah, I wouldn't really like that one either. I could be diplomatic and ask you to resolve the matter with me calmly.”
“Better, I suppose.”
“Or I could yell right back,” she said, grinning over her cup of tea. There was something so mischievous about her glance that he found himself coming out of his black mood.
“I see that you have a preference,” he observed, and she laughed.
“I certainly do. There's nothing in the world more invigorating than a moment where people say what's really on their minds. They get everything out, and then everything needs to be discussed. The first part makes good television, the second part just makes for good friendships in general.”
He sipped his own tea, shaking his head. “You are wise for your years,” he said. “Let's go with that. After all, my family has a reputation for being fighters. I don't want to go on the air and then deal with my mother calling me and telling me that I am a wet blanket.”
Something sparked in Trinity's green eyes. When she lowered her lashes, there was a slight smile on her lips.
“Well, I hardly think that anyone would call you a wet blanket…”
With a start, he realized that she was thinking about the kiss that they had shared the night before.
He still wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He still wasn't convinced it wasn't an actress's artifice or perhaps the skill of an actress who believed her own performance completely. Apolo had kissed many people, but there was definitely something to kissing Trinity that felt different.
Apolo knew that if he thought about it too long, his body would rouse to attention far too quickly. Even in her simple green dress, there was something alluring about his little gata. There weren't any cameras, but he knew if there were one there, it would be all too likely to catch the way his eyes seemed focused on her face, to the point where everything else felt unimportant and blurred.
“All right, it seems like favorite foods would be easier,” Trinity mused. She seemed completely unaware of his perusal, something that both amused him and frustrated him. If he was going to be burning, he would far rather she burned right along with him.
“You're American—pizza and hamburgers?” he hazarded, and she shot him a look that could best be described as withering.
“Who in the world do you think you're talking to?” she asked. “I grew up in Southern California, and my father kept a four-star chef around to cook for us. I grew up on a little bit of everything.”
“So? What was your favorite?”
“Such a little-princess stereotype, but caviar,” she said with an enchanting smile. “Black caviar straight from the Black Sea, served on a piece of rye bread. I would have eaten the stuff by the spoonful if I could. How about yours? What kind of food did Prince Apolo grow up on?”
He paused for a moment, and then shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the old saying went.
“Hamburgers,” he admitted, and she laughed, clapping her hands.
“And you're going to call me the uncultured American?” Trinity hooted. “You have all of the food of the great Mediterranean in front of you, and you're telling me that you love hamburgers?”
“And steak and sushi and of course, your precious caviar as well,” he argued, “but yes. I studied in the United States for a year when I was a teenager, and one of my friends from the embassy took me to a small place in downtown Washington, DC, that made amazing hamburgers. If it helps, I only care for the hamburgers from that place. Everything else disappoints.”
“Childhood favorites,” she said with a happy sigh, propping her chin on her hands. “Can't beat 'em. Once, Luz, the woman who helped out in the kitchen, stayed late and made up some fresh churros on the stove. It was meant for her family, but she gave me one, and oh my god, fresh churros take me right back to that…”
Apolo wondered if she knew how much she revealed when she gazed off rapturously into the distance. He could imagine how good the churros must have tasted to a young girl, but he could also imagine how the haphazard affection must have felt to her as well. It hurt to think about the tow-haired little girl Trinity must have been, haunting a house that was too big and only mothered by servants who knew painfully well that it might cost them their job to give her the affection that she so clearly longed for.
“There's a Mexican restaurant in Athens that is amazing,” he found himself saying. “The chef is skilled in preparing foods from all over his home country. I am sure that we can have him make you some churros.”
For a moment, Apolo was certain that she was going to laugh or perhaps say that that wasn't part of the deal. Instead, she turned those lovely green eyes to him.
“I would love that,” she said with a happy smile. “If we go after this television thing, I'll even have the money to pay for both of us.”
He laughed at her eagerness, but he had to wonder what he was thinking. After the show was over, it would be best to have nothing to do with her, but now he was planning on dinner dates?
He shook his head, looking down at his worksheets again. He wasn't a fool, and now he needed to keep from acting like one.
Unexpectedly, Trinity was starting to sweat. When she had all of those promising auditions when she first came to Los Angeles, the casting directors were always fairly certain of the parts she would play. With her strong features, her preternatural calm and her natural grace, she would have been a strong villain, an excellent cool girl, an edgy futuristic vixen.
Now, however, with less than two days on the ground, she was blushing and mumbling like an ingénue, and she didn't know how to deal with it. She had expected that there would be some flirting and some chemistry— at least, Trinity had prayed that there would be—but the feelings bubbling up inside her right now were beyond anything she had ever experienced.
When she risked glancing across the table at Apolo, she couldn't stop a tickle of electricity from running up her spine. There was something about her reaction to him that she couldn't control even a little bit. It should have frightened her. She should be alarmed and battening down the hatches. The truth was, however, that there was something in her that whispered that it would be all right. This once, it would be fine to lower her defenses.
As if I had a choice, she thought ruefully.
In the few hours they had been diligently toiling away on their worksheets, she had told him more than she had told anyone in her life. Was she truly so hungry for someone to talk to? She wondered, but she suspected not. There was something else at play.
Suddenly, Trinity remembered what one of her acting coaches had said a very long time ago.
“Trinity, you are stunning, a star, but unless you learn to trust your co-stars, you will be a stunning failure.”
Her teacher's words had infuriated her when she
was young, but now they sprang into sharp relief. There had always been the feeling at the back of her head that she needed to carry the production. It could sink or swim based on her star power.
The truth was far different. She couldn't make a production stunning on her own. She needed to trust the people beside her, and that meant trusting Apolo.
She had just come to that conclusion when Dr. Horne called them back inside.
“So I see that you two have been hard at work,” he said. “Talking, getting to know each other?”
When they both nodded, he smiled expansively, as proud as any doctor that his patients were doing so well.
“Good. Then now, of course, you are prepared to fight with one another.”
Trinity blinked, and Apolo scowled.
“Fight?” Apolo asked. “I hardly think it will do much for my family and my reputation if we are rehearsing fights…”
Dr. Horne shook his head, tutting gently. “Ah, but you see, if you can fight convincingly and kindly, it will make the rest of your interactions together that much more genuine, that much more real. It is my sincere hope that you never fight. So yes, now you will learn to fight.”
Trinity had done acting exercises like this before, and if she were honest, it wasn't even the most outlandish one she had ever done.
“At least you are not telling me to emote as if I were an eggplant,” she said with a sigh.
“How did that go?” ask Apolo, momentarily distracted.
“I was very grateful for the sun and the earth,” she replied. “It wasn't very interesting.”
“All right,” interrupted Dr. Horne. “Let's see. Yes…for this exercise, you two are at a party. You have been separated. Apolo, from across the room you see Trinity in deep conversation with another man. They seem to be standing very close. Trinity laughs a little, touching her hair.”
Apolo was already frowning, and with a satisfied nod, Dr. Horne turned to Trinity.
“Trinity, you are deep in conversation with a man who is somewhat amusing. He isn't bad to look at. He's genuinely funny, though he does go on.”
Trinity was amused to see how open ended the scenarios were. She and Apolo could put themselves into it, creating their own reactions and learning more about each other.
“And now you are at home. Go.”
For a moment, she thought that Apolo was frozen. It would be just her luck if he was a man who couldn't act worth a damn, but then he scowled, glaring at her. It was real enough that it sent a shiver of apprehension up her spine.
“I see that you enjoyed yourself with Thompson tonight.”
She blinked, looking up at him.
“Thompson? Was that the man from the English embassy?”
“You should know,” Apolo retorted. “You seemed as if you were hanging on his every word.”
She pulled back, slightly stunned by the harsh tone in his words.
“I was doing absolutely nothing of the sort,” she countered. “He came to speak with me about a gallery opening that he wanted to go to, one to which he wanted to bring his wife and daughter, I might add.”
He stepped a little closer. She did her best not to shrink back. She was tall, but he still towered over her.
“You sound so innocent,” he growled, and she felt an answering spark of temper.
“And you sound so suspicious,” she retorted. “I was gone from your side for less than twenty minutes, and now you are accusing me of all sorts of nastiness.”
Unexpectedly, there was a slight quirk to his lips, one that sent a shiver right through her body. It didn't lessen the tension, but it did change it.
“Twenty minutes…” he said, letting his tongue caress those common words. “Twenty minutes can be more than enough time, if you use them correctly.”
Trinity swallowed, and almost against her will, her mind produced everything that two determined people could do and do to each other with just twenty minutes.
“When it comes to using twenty minutes efficiently, you are the only one who I feel like being that…efficient for,” she said softly. “Anyone else, and well…I just can't be bothered.”
In the end, it wasn't her sharp words that moved him. Instead it was the melting tone and her almost shy smile. He hesitated for a moment, as if wondering where his temper had come from.
“Are you sure?” he asked. His voice was still brash and even harsh, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that made her smile.
She reached out with her hand to touch not his skin, but his sleeve, tugging at the fabric gently.
“Absolutely,” she said. “If I have twenty minutes, I want them to be for you.”
There was a slightly dazed look on Apolo's face. If Dr. Horne hadn't immediately clapped his hands, Trinity was honestly not sure what was going to happen.
However, the doctor did, and they both stepped back. Trinity found herself blinking as if she had been woken from a dream. As always, there was an element of surprise when she came out of a scene. Real life seemed less real, and for a moment, she still lived in the fantasy world.
This time was a little different though. Even as Trinity blinked the dream from her eyes, she wondered at why she still felt that tug. It was as if the version of her fighting with Apolo was the real one, and the one taking direction from an enthused therapist was false.
“Very good, very good,” he applauded. “You both found solutions that worked for your insecurities, that is very good. You feel like a couple which is committed, but still might be finding its feet, very good. All right now, for this next exercise…”
As Dr. Horne explained what they were to do next, Trinity sneaked a glance at Apolo. She had been able to tell from the moment that she met him that he was a private man, one who was often shuttered from the rest of the world. However, when they had been “fighting,” it felt as if something had opened in him. Suddenly, Trinity wondered if others felt the same about her. When they were pretending together, he was free to be who he truly was. He was free.
Trinity knew that she was there for a paycheck, and one that was fairly sizable at that. She wouldn't be in Spain if it weren't for the promise of cash that could help her launch her career rather than seeing it die on the vine.
However, she understood more than most the freedom of being someone else. Even if it was only going to be for the next three weeks, she and Apolo would be allowed to be as passionate as they could be. In a way, that would be completely freeing. Trinity was suddenly and intensely glad that Apolo got to have this experience. She was proud to be the one who gave it to him.
When she glanced at him again, she could see how intently he was watching the therapist, hanging on his every word.
Yes, this was something she could give to him, and she would give it to him with everything she had in her.
Dr. Horne drilled them for the rest of the day, and then much to their mutual disgruntlement, woke them up around sunrise to continue.
“It is very important that you understand each other at every point of the world's cycle,” he said earnestly. “It is easy to smile when you have had plenty of sleep and plenty to eat. What will happen when you are tired, eh? Or still sleepy?”
“Can we be one of those couples that kill together,” she groaned softly, sipping carefully at her burning hot coffee. Still in her nightgown and robe, with no makeup on and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she felt like a mess. However, it didn't stop Apolo from grinning at her over his own mug.
“We certainly can be,” he muttered in return. “I don't think I've had to get up so early for literally years.”
“I have for auditions and calls, but at least then it wasn't a surprise.”
Apolo chuckled a little, loosely draping his arm around her waist. There was something casually and sweetly affectionate about the gesture. Her desire for him—because now she was more than willing to call it desire—was still there, but at the moment all she did was revel in
how good he felt first thing in the morning.
Whatever Dr. Horne was being paid, he certainly earned it. He drilled them mercilessly, making sure that they knew the ins and outs of each other’s lives. He kept them honest, and he reminded them over and over again that the best kind of intimacy was thoughtless and perfectly natural.
While she was actually in scenes with Apolo, it felt effortless, but getting out of the scenes was growing incrementally harder. By the time seven p.m. rolled around and Dr. Horne's car came to pick him up, she was exhausted.
Despite her weariness, she still bid the doctor a fond goodbye, hugging him as he left.
“You have a rare gift, my dear,” he said softly, “And I don't mean the acting.”
She started to ask what he meant, but he only winked.
“You are the kind who steals hearts, but I am pleased to say that you are kind enough and sweet enough to give them back. The young prince is a very lucky man.”
She started to tell him that he had misunderstood, that there was nothing between them. She wondered if he had somehow gotten confused over what they were doing, but then he stepped into his car and was gone.
Suddenly, she was alone with Apolo again, and with that realization came a feeling of pleasure.
The words “alone at last” echoed through her head, and she followed him into the kitchen.
“I'm half-starved,” she said, and he nodded.
“Steaks, then,” Apolo declared. “There are some in the refrigerator, and I know how to cook steak without harming it or us.”
She sat at the island, playing with her phone and watching him expertly sizzle the steaks on the grill. The instinct to go over and to wrap her arms around his waist as he cooked was strong, but she refused to give in to it. There was such a thing as being too involved in her role.
The thought gave way to another, however, and she was thoughtful as she ate the delicious meal that Apolo had prepared. She was so quiet that as they set the plates aside, he raised an eyebrow.
“Are you tired, or is there something on your mind?” he asked. “I'm not used to you being this quiet.”
