The Greek's Unknown Bride

Apollo looked at her suspiciously. But she seemed genuinely concerned. A little frown between her eyes. Mouth turned down.

Sasha was unaware of the speculative look from her husband. She was too consumed and awed by her surroundings. She’d never seen such glittering opulence. The ceilings had elaborate frescoes and the walls seemed to be made out of gold.

Hundreds of candles and sparkling chandeliers imbued everything with a golden glow. It truly was another world. She was sure she’d never seen so many beautiful people in one place. Or maybe she had, if she’d been serving them drinks. But not like this...not as one of them.

Frustration bit at her insides. She hated this...not knowing. Being at the mercy of her mind choosing to reveal memories totally at random. When it chose to. Like when she’d seen Apollo in the tuxedo.

To distract herself, Sasha tried to tune into the conversation Apollo was having with some men, but she gave up as it was in Greek, or other languages she didn’t understand.

Waiters came around offering champagne and canapés. Sasha was too afraid to eat in case she ruined her dress. Then they were led into another large and impressive room with round tables set around a small stage. They sat down and a charity auction took place. The items up for auction included cars, date nights with famous celebrities and even a small island off the coast of Ireland.

Sasha gasped when that lot was announced. ‘That’s outrageous!’

Apollo looked at her and his mouth twisted slightly. ‘That’s the super-rich.’

Then a lot came up for a luxury yacht. To her shock and surprise, Apollo started bidding on it. Within a few short minutes people were clapping him on the back and cheering. He’d paid an extortionate amount of money for it.

Sasha was in shock. ‘You just bought a yacht.’

He looked at her. ‘Well, I already have an island and an island isn’t much use without a yacht.’

He said that without any discernible sense of awe that he owned such fantastical things. In fact, he almost sounded...bored.

‘You don’t seem very excited to own such things.’

Apollo felt something hitch in his chest at Sasha’s comment and the way her blue eyes seemed to be looking right inside him, to the place where a sense of novelty had become something else. Something less novel. When had that happened?

He shrugged nonchalantly when he felt tight inside, not relaxed, ‘Like I said, an island needs a yacht.’

‘But will you use it?’

Apollo was surprised at the hollow feeling that seemed to spread outwards from his centre. He hadn’t even consciously bought the yacht with a view to using it. More as a reflex to do what was expected of him. But now he couldn’t help imagining the vessel bobbing in azure waters under a clear sky, and this woman laid out in all her slender, pale glory...red hair spread around her head—

The crowd seemed to stand en masse as the auction came to an end and Apollo seized the opportunity to divert Sasha’s attention. Since when had his wife had the ability to probe so insightfully and deeply with just a casual question?

He stood up and reached for her hand. ‘It’s time to move on.’

Sasha had a very keen sense that Apollo hadn’t appreciated her innocent questions. Clearly she’d hit on a nerve and maybe she was being spectacularly naive: in this world, islands and yachts were mere luxury trinkets to be added to a portfolio of even more luxury items.

There was just something about his lack of enthusiasm that struck at the heart of her, making her feel a little...sad.

The crowd was moving into yet another glorious room, even bigger. A ballroom. There was an orchestra and a singer singing sultry jazz songs. The lighting was dim and intimate. French doors were open, leading out to a terrace lined with flaming lanterns. Dusk was falling and the sky was a deep lavender colour. It was like a scene from a fairy-tale or a movie.

Her hand was still in Apollo’s and she was very conscious of his long fingers wrapped around hers, so much so that she didn’t even notice that he was leading her onto the dance floor. When she realised where they were, it was too late. He was drawing her in front of him and wrapping one arm across her back.

She went rigid in his arms from the impact of his body against hers as much because of where they were; in the middle of a dance floor. Around them, couples were moving sinuously to the music. Graceful and elegant. At ease.

Apollo started to move, taking Sasha with him, and she hissed, ‘I don’t even know if I can dance.’

‘Just follow my lead.’

After a few robotic moments, Apollo pulled her even closer to his body. Sasha couldn’t fight the force it took to remain rigid and so she softened against him.

She was surrounded by him, his steely strength. They were so close she could smell the sharp tang of his aftershave. Her heels put her even closer to his jaw and mouth. She wanted to press her lips there, taste his skin. Immediately she tensed again and he lowered his head, saying in her ear, ‘Relax. Just let me lead.’

After a few torturous seconds she allowed herself to soften again. She realised they were moving around the floor with relative grace. She looked up, avoiding looking at his jaw and the faint line of stubble.

‘Where did you learn to dance?’