by Maisey Yates
“You’re a caveman.”
He wrapped his fingers around her ponytail, tugging hard. “Shall I drag you back to my lair?”
She gasped, the sound one of arousal, not fear.
“You can pretend to hate this thing between us all you want. You can pretend to hate my commands. But we both know that no matter how shocked and appalled you pretend to be, you want this. You want me.”
She leaned in slightly, and he kept his hold tight on her hair. Then she pressed her lips gently against his before biting him hard. “I might want you,” she said, “but it is not the way a woman should want a man.”
“Take your hair down.”
“I refuse to give in to your every command.”
He shifted his hold on her, grabbing the bobby pin that was buried in the ponytail that wrapped one coppery strand around the rubber band that secured her hair, concealing it from view. Then he grabbed the rubber band itself, pulling it free.
Her red hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves, extra full because of the way it had been restrained.
She frowned, her brows locked together. “I can’t go like this. My hair is a mess.”
“It is perfect.”
“I do not have to wear my hair to please you.”
“Your hair pleases me however it is fixed,” he said. “But this way, this way, all I can think about is burying my fingers in it. Pulling you toward me. Kissing you deeply. With it like this, I want nothing more than to take you straight back upstairs and make you scream my name. And so, I leave the final decision on how you wear it up to you.”
She tilted her chin upward. “Well, it’s already down.”
He chuckled, the soundboard of satisfaction. “I thought you might come to that conclusion.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I prefer you without a tie.”
“It is a formal event.”
“Without the black tie, with the first button on your shirt undone, so that I can just see your chest hair, all I can think of is you tearing the shirt open the rest of the way so that I can put my hands on your hard muscles. So that I can feel your heartbeat raging against my palms. I can think of nothing but leaning in, running my tongue over your skin. And so,” she said, arching her brow before turning away from him. “It is up to you.”
Apollo smiled and began to loosen his tie.
* * *
No matter that they were pretending to be merely business associates at the gala, Elle could not help but think the two of them looked like they had been engaged in sexual intimacy in the car on the way. Her hair was down, looking very much like he had already run his fingers through it. His shirt was undone, his tie long discarded.
And yet, they had not had the benefit of engaging in any kind of intimate activity.
When they had gotten in the limousine she had scooted as far away from him as possible, telling him she needed space, time to collect her thoughts. She did. She was exhausted, jet-lagged, and the nap she’d had earlier had only helped a little bit. Beyond that, she was still raw from their last encounter. And if they were supposed to appear in public together in a platonic fashion, she did not want the feeling of his touch lingering quite so strongly in the forefront of her mind.
Now though, she was regretting it. Now she sort of wished she had climbed onto his lap in the car and satisfied her desire for him. Anything to take the edge off the extreme arousal that was pounding through her even now.
The gala itself was beautifully appointed, held in one of the oldest and most sophisticated hotels in Athens. When she arrived, she was surprised to see that Apollo’s name was on everything.
“You didn’t tell me that it was your charity gala we were attending.”
He shrugged his shoulder, taking a glass of Champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. “It did not seem important.”
“I think it is rather important. I wasn’t aware that you had founded the charity.”
“It’s very boring. Press junket stuff. The kind of thing that one says to improve their reputation with the media. It’s a game I scarcely have the patience to play at the best of times. I did not see the point in trying to convince you that I was somehow a paragon of virtue simply because I donate money to impoverished families.”
“You do?” In spite of everything she knew about him, in spite of her feelings about him, she could feel herself softening.
“Yes. Do not look at me like that. I am a businessman. Believe me when I tell you this benefits me in financial ways.”
“Why are you so resistant to being seen as good in any fashion?”
“I do not like to raise people’s expectations.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because they will find themselves disappointed.”
She looked around, taking in the beautifully appointed marble interior of the hotel, the impressive pillars, the glittering chandeliers. Couples dressed in the finest couture were already making their way out to the dance floor. She wished she could dance with Apollo. That he would take her into his strong arms and pull her up against his chest, hold her...just to hold her. So that she could relish his strength, his heat, if only for a moment.
She shook her head. That was extreme foolishness. She wanted nothing more from Apollo than for him to leave her alone and allow her to run their business as she saw fit. Well, that and sex for the sake of sex, until they had burned out the attraction between them.
She did not want him to hold her. She did not want to press her head up against his chest and listen to the sound of his heart. Did not want to spend an hour kissing him, just kissing him. No, she didn’t want any of those things.
“I shall introduce you to some of my associates,” Apollo said. “And to some of the members of the press who are in attendance.”
“Oh, you’re too kind,” she said, keeping her tone light.
He pressed his hand lightly on her back, guiding her toward a group of people who were standing there conversing. He made introductions, and dropped his hand quickly back to his side, bringing a great deal of distance between the two of them as he shifted his position within the group.
One of the men was a businessman from Italy, another a Greek, who had his business in the United States. They started to make conversation about staying relevant in the age of the internet and online superstores, and she was so lost in the discussion that it took her a while to notice that Apollo was no longer standing next to her. She frowned, searching the crowd quickly. And then she spotted him, out on the dance floor with a blonde woman wearing a dress with a hem that fell just beneath her butt cheeks. Rather nice butt cheeks too, Elle was loath to admit.
She fought to keep the scowl off her face. She knew that they were supposed to be playing the part of business associates but she felt this was taking it a bit far.
“I see Mr. Savas has abandoned you,” the Greek man, Nikos Vardalos, said.
“Not at all,” she said, taking a deep breath. “We are not here together. Mr. Savas is able to dance with whoever he chooses.”
“Then I suppose you are free to dance with whoever you choose?”
She could always tell him she had a boyfriend. She often did that when confronted with men she wasn’t attracted to in these kinds of situations. But Nikos was handsome enough, and Apollo was dancing with someone else. Really, it seemed rather silly for her to stay hidden away in a corner.
“Absolutely,” she said. “I am always free to do whatever I want.”
He laughed, treating her to a smile that she had no doubt often made women go weak in the knees. Sadly, not her. Not now.
But she pretended. She offered a smile in return.
“I like a woman who knows her mind. And does your mind tell you that you might want to dance with me?”
“I would be delighted.”
Every interaction with Apollo, every brush of his skin against hers, was so layered. Was so hot, so intense, she couldn’t ignore it, or pretend it hadn’t burned. It was never simple. It was always hate spread over lust, spread over a strange attachment that stemmed from all of the years they had known each other. And betrayal. The betrayal that was unique to what she felt for him because of how well they had known each other. Because of how she had felt about him for so long.
Because of the way she had trusted him.
And you betray your father by sleeping with this man. By wanting him.
Still, she couldn’t help herself. Still, she could feel nothing as Nikos pulled her into his arms and swept her onto the dance floor. Still, she felt more when she looked across the crowded room and locked eyes with Apollo, who was glaring at her and her dance partner with dark rage.
Fine. He was welcome to be murderous. She didn’t particularly care. They were here separately. He was dancing with another woman, and she would be damned if she would play the part of wallflower.
She shifted her hands lightly on her partner’s shoulder, tightening her grip on his hand.
“I think Savas wants to kill me,” Nikos said, his tone tinged with amusement.
“Oh, I don’t suppose he wants to kill you,” she said, her tone dry. “Anyway, he and I are associates, as I said before. And neither of us believes in mixing business with pleasure.”
“Excellent. Then I shall never do business with you.”
She laughed. “Well, that would be a shame. Since you are in retail, I would very much like to do business with you.”
“Perhaps it is crass of me to discuss this during a dance,” he said, “but tell me more.”
They spent the next two songs largely ignoring the music and discussing the various ways in which they could marry their two brands. She decided that she liked Nikos quite a bit even if he did not make her heart beat faster.
She only wished that he could.
He was Greek, he was wealthy, he had a hint of a gorgeous accent. Truly, if she had a type, this was it. If any other man was going to start a fire in her loins quite the way that Apollo did, this man would. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was an extreme disappointment.
Still, though she had not found a way to encourage desire toward another man, she had come away with a very promising business contact. They parted at the end of the song, and he did not try to make any sort of romantic overture. He must’ve sensed the lack of chemistry as profoundly as she did.
She was making her way toward a waiter to get herself a drink when she was all but accosted by Apollo. “Having fun?”
“It’s a charming party,” she said.
“Yes. I told you already that you would be with me and me alone while we work out the attraction between us, did I not?”
“I’m sorry, I was not aware that a waltz was on par with intercourse.”
“You are playing with fire,” he said.
“Then you are, too. Don’t think I didn’t notice your lovely blonde partner.”
“It is expected of me.”
“And you want my face in the paper. Therefore, I had better do something newsworthy. You put me in this dress that leaves me essentially naked, and now you’re going to act as though my getting attention is not somehow essential to your plan?”
“All you have to do is simply walk into a room to gain attention, agape. Trust me on this.”
“I find your assessment flattering, if slightly ambitious.”
“I don’t care whether or not you find it ambitious. It is the truth.” He looked around them. “Even if you have not noticed, I have. Every male eye—and many of the female eyes—have been on you from the moment you walked in. You are absolutely the one to watch here.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. And when you make a large charitable donation in the name of the company, you will become even more of a conversation piece.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. “I did not know you were going to make use of my money.”
“Of course I am. Anyway, it is a good cause, on that you can trust me. As I said, I provide housing and other necessities for families who have fallen below the poverty line. Surely you can find no fault with that.”
“I suppose not.”
“You sound so distressed. It must be terrible when I don’t rise to the part of blackguard when it suits you.”
“Sincerely awful. I can see why you prefer to pretend you’re terrible. For consistency.”
“I am nothing if not consistent.”
She laughed. “If only that were true.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. You are not consistent, I don’t care how you frame it, I don’t care what you say. You were a friend of my family, and then you betrayed us. There is nothing consistent about that.”
His expression turned dark, fierce. He leaned in and her breath caught in her throat. She thought, for a moment, that he might kiss her. She hoped that he would. He did not. “From the moment I understood there was better than the circumstances I existed in I was determined to find better. When I went to a private school, knowing full well that I didn’t belong there, I was determined to rise to the top of the class so that no one could question whether or not I had the ability to succeed in the realms of society into which I had been thrust. I have done nothing but hold myself up from the bottom with my brute strength from the moment I understood it could be done. If that’s not consistency, I don’t know what is.”
“Yes, I know you pulled yourself up quite a bit. But it’s quite convenient to forget that my father’s money provided a ladder to help you out.” She turned away from him and he grabbed hold of her arm, holding on tightly to her and pulling her back to him.
“I was willing to advance myself using any means necessary. Again, I claim consistency.” He released his hold on her, straightening the cuffs on his shirt. “Go off and have fun. We will meet again at the end of the night. Do not forget to make your donation.”
“Of course not.”
“I imagine Luka would like to dance, as well.”
“Are you off to find him?” she asked.
“No, but I suggest you should.”
“Now you’re encouraging me to dance with other men? There’s that legendary consistency.”
“No, I believe you’re right. You should do what you can to get your photograph in the news. And I shall do what I have to to get attention of my own. I will see you at the end of the evening.”
CHAPTER SIX
BY THE TIME the car pulled back up to Apollo’s house later that evening he was in a violent temper. Elle had done exactly as he had demanded and had danced with every businessman within fifteen years of her age. And she had charmed every single one of them. She had no doubt delighted the media.
She had done exactly as he’d asked, and he was incensed. Spending the evening not touching her had been akin to torture. But he was ready to move ahead with their agreement. He was ready to claim her. To remind her exactly why she was here, and who she was with.
They had not spoken in the car on the way back to his villa. She was vibrating with indignation next to him, but he didn’t care.
When they got out of the car and walked into the house he turned to her. “I want you to go to your room and open up the top drawer of the bureau there. You will find some other items that my staff has procured for you. Make yourself ready for me.”
He stormed off to his office then, pouring
himself a glass of scotch and downing it in one desperate gulp, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.
He paced the length of the room, trying to figure out exactly what happened to make him so agitated.
Jealousy.
He could not remember the last time he had ever felt jealous. If he ever had.
He closed his eyes, allowing an old memory to wash over him. Hell, the bikini. Yes, he had been jealous then in a strange way. Of the fact that she was young, with her entire life ahead of her. Of the fact that men had not yet discovered her, and he would not be a part of that discovery. He would have given everything to have been the first man to touch her. To have been the one to awaken her sensuality. Her every sigh, her every moan.
To have been the one who gave her that first climax.
Yes, he would have given anything to be that man at one time. He had been jealous then. Of a man who had not existed. And somehow tonight every man who had danced with her had become one of those nameless, faceless men who had come before him.
He hated them, even without knowing who they were.
He tossed his suit jacket onto the floor, stalking out of his office and going up the stairs toward her bedroom. She had better damn well be ready for him. Because he was not waiting another moment.
He threw open the bedroom door without knocking, and she turned to face him, still wearing the dress she had been wearing to the gala.
“I thought I gave you instructions to change,” he said.
Her green eyes glittered with anger. “Yes,” she said. “You did. But I have no desire to dress up like some strange interpretation of a fantasy that you have, brought about by your magnanimous staff.”
“Expensive underthings offend you?”
“The idea that I might not want to choose my own? The idea that I might be interchangeable with any of the other women you consort with? That offends me.”
“What do any of my other lovers have to do with this?”
“Everything. You are treating me exactly as you would any of them.”
