Dark Apollo. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ he’d said, it was the gibe about Katie’s name which, ridiculously, had got to her most.

      He must have known she was untouched, yet he’d set out deliberately to deflower and destroy, using all the potent virility and sexual charisma he possessed in such abundance to undermine her resistance.

      My God, I was aware of it myself, she thought, shame mingling with anger. And I was only with him for a few minutes. If I’d met him in different circumstances—if he’d been charming, or even marginally polite…

      She blotted out that line of thinking instantly. Spiro Xandreou clearly regarded himself as some latter-day Apollo, a sun god to whom every woman was a potential victim for conquest, and she disgraced herself by even acknowledging his attraction.

      But what had he been doing, working in that restaurant? she asked herself. Waiting on tables for a bet—or some other kind of sick joke?

      If so, why go on with the pretence once Katie had returned to England? Promising to come over—claiming they were going to be married. All those letters—all those lies.

      Unforgivable, she thought as she dragged the despised scooter upright, and kicked it into grumbling life. She wanted to get away from the Villa Apollo, and its owner, as fast as she could—breathe some untainted air.

      And decide what she could possibly tell Katie, she thought despondently as she steadied her temperamental machine for the first bend.

      The open-topped sports car was upon her instantly, racing up the hill on the wrong side of the road. Camilla caught a stunned glimpse of a girl’s face, olive-skinned and pretty behind the designer sunglasses but transfixed by sheer horror. Then she pulled the bike over in a kind of desperation, striving to avoid the inevitable collision.

      The scooter hit the loose stones on the verge, and went out of control, running up the bank. Camilla was thrown off, landing painfully on her side. She lay still for a moment, feeling sick and dizzy with shock.

      She heard the sound of running feet, and the girl bent over her. ‘O Theos.’ There was panic in her voice. ‘You are hurt. Are you broken anywhere?’

      Into several pieces by the feel of it, Camilla thought, as she pulled herself to her feet. There were no actual fractures, she was sure, but there was a deep graze on her bare leg, and another on her arm, blood mingling with the dirt on her torn blouse.

      ‘I did not expect anyone else on this road.’ The girl was practically wringing her hands.

      ‘So I gathered,’ Camilla forced from her dry throat.

      ‘You need a doctor.’ The girl took her uninjured arm, urging her towards the car. ‘With me, please. Come.’

      Camilla shook her head. ‘It’s all right.’ Her voice sounded very small and far-away suddenly. ‘I—I’ll be fine.’ She saw the road, the car, and the newcomer’s anxious face dip and sway, then everything descended into a dark and swirling void.

      

      Somewhere, a storm must be raging. Camilla could feel the splash of rain on her face and hear a distant rumble of thunder. But she herself seemed to be floating on some kind of cloud.

      She opened unwilling eyes, and stared up at a face she’d never seen before, female, elderly and wrinkled with concern. Nor was it raining. She was simply having her face bathed with cool water.

      I hurt, she thought, wincing, as she looked around her. She was in a large room, lying on a vast luxurious sofa the colour of rich maize.

      And the sound of the storm was Spiro Xandreou, who was standing a few feet away conducting a low-voiced but furious argument with the girl from the car.

      Oh, my God, Camilla thought with horrified alarm. She’s brought me back here—to his house. I can’t bear it.

      She tried to sit up, only to be vociferously restrained by the old woman attending to her.

      Spiro Xandreou swung round, frowning, and came striding over. He’d exchanged the towel, Camilla noticed, for a pair of white shorts almost equally revealing. Still competing for the Stud of the Year award, no doubt, she thought, hating him.

      ‘My sister has told me what happened,’ he said harshly. ‘You must remain where you are—keep still until the doctor has made his examination.’

      ‘I’ll do nothing of the kind.’ Camilla’s head swam as she put her feet gingerly to the floor. But she was becoming more aware of her surroundings. One entire wall of the room was made from glass, a series of sliding doors pushed open to admit the sunlight, and a breeze bringing a hint of flowers and citrus.

      The floor was tiled in creamy marble, veined in blue and gold, and the same blue was echoed in the colour of the walls, which were bare except for a few modern abstract paintings, clearly original and probably valuable.

      Ironically, the one thing Spiro Xandreou hadn’t lied about was his wealth, Camilla thought sourly. She was in the lap of luxury here. The sofa she was lying on was one of a pair flanking a wide marble fireplace, which was presumably for use in the winter months but was now screened by a large bronze sculpture of a sunburst.

      The whole effect was airy and spacious, yet somehow welcoming, so presumably the owner had had no hand in the décor.

      She glared up at him. ‘There’s no need for all this fuss. I want nothing from you, Mr. Xandreou. I thought I’d made that clear.’

      ‘Unfortunately, neither of us has a choice. You are not leaving here, thespinis, without medical attention.’

      ‘What are you afraid of? That I’ll sue?’ His autocratic tone needled her. She tried to smile past him at the girl, who was standing looking sullen, her arms crossed defensively in front of her. ‘I shan’t. I’ve a few grazes, that’s all.’

      ‘You cannot know that. And in the circumstances we can afford to take no risks,’ he said grimly. He issued some low-voiced instructions to the old woman who left the room instantly.

      ‘Arianna tells me you were riding a scooter,’ he went on. ‘Are you quite crazy?’

      ‘Only on a part-time basis,’ Camilla said wearily. ‘Look—just get me a taxi, and I’ll go back to my hotel. My sister will be wondering where I am, and I don’t want to cause her unnecessary worry,’ she added pointedly.

      ‘She knows of your activities, then—and she permitted them?’ Spiro Xandreou raised clenched fists towards the ceiling. ‘Unbelievable.’

      ‘No,’ Camilla said, with a sigh. ‘This was all my own idea. And clearly a bad one.’

      ‘At least we agree on something,’ he said silkily.

      The old woman in her black dress and snowy apron came back into the room, carrying a bowl of steaming water, a bottle of antiseptic, and some cotton wool.

      Camilla eyed them with misgiving. ‘There’s no need…’

      ‘There is every need,’ he contradicted flatly. ‘This is not England, Kyria Dryden. Grazes such as this carry a risk of infection, and need immediate attention.’

      He knelt beside the sofa, his face СКАЧАТЬ