A Scent of Greek Page 6

  Fiancée? Why had she said that?

  When the words were out, she tried to take them back, but then she caught his appreciative gaze on her. “Gods, I’m one lucky son of a bitch.”

  ***

  Hera smiled wistfully into the pool of water that reflected the image of Dionysus and Ariadne in the parking lot where she’d left him less than an hour earlier.

  “Lucky? You don’t know the half of it yet, my dear Dionysus,” she mumbled to herself.

  If he thought he could play this mortal the same way he’d done before, he wasn’t counting on Hera’s imagination. This time, Ariadne would not become the hapless victim of his philandering ways, she’d make sure of that. Already, she’d planted suggestions in the young woman’s mind of what she needed to do to teach the god of wine a lesson he desperately needed.

  Unfortunately, Ariadne had a soft heart—getting her to lie to Dio and tell him she was his fiancée had cost Hera a massive power blast. It was always difficult to influence the honorable ones and the pure ones. They clung too tightly to their scruples.

  It had been much easier to influence those two customers of Ariadne and entice them to attack Dionysus. All it had taken to place the kind of rage in their minds that that they would feel if they were Ariadne’s brothers.

  She’d make Ariadne a believer yet: soon the girl would play with Dionysus’ feelings the way he had played with hers. Then, her wicked stepson would finally be the one nursing a broken heart. And all the women he’d hurt before would be avenged.

  Ariadne would get through it in one piece; in fact, she would become a stronger woman, one who wouldn’t let a man push her around ever again.

  And as long as Hera managed to suppress Ariadne’s goodness and her insufferable scruples by planting her own thoughts and suggestions into the girl’s mind, things would work out just fine. As for the second chance with Dionysus that Ariadne seemed to believe in? It all depended on whether love could blossom on a ground of lies and deception and dig its roots deep enough to reach the place where purity was buried. Hera doubted that such a feat was possible.

  Chapter Seven

  Dio eyed his beautiful Samaritan and enjoyed the sight of her body. Her long, dark blond hair fell freely over her shoulders. Her green eyes flashed at him with more than one question in them. Her curves were fuller than those of other women. Other women? Well, he must have had other women. His body must have retained some sense memories. She was beautiful, his fiancée. He tried out the name. “Ariadne.” And his tongue seemed to recognize the sound. He’d spoken that name before. It felt right.

  “And I’m Dio.” Yes, somehow the name had a familiar ring to it now that he spoke it, but no actual memory came with it. He felt like a newborn with no memory beyond the past five minutes. His brain tried to search for something, anything he could anchor himself to, but whatever tendrils of information were left escaped its grasp.

  “I don’t remember anything,” he admitted.

  “Are you sure?” Her eyebrows drew together, worry lines forming on her forehead.

  “There’s nothing. If you didn’t tell me my name, I wouldn’t even know who I was. It’s as if my brain has been wiped clean. Like a clean slate.”

  She hesitated, then squeezed his hand. “How is your head?”

  “It feels fine.”

  “I think we should get you to the hospital to have you checked out. You might have a concussion.”

  For some reason, the thought of a hospital didn’t agree with him. Had he had a bad experience in a hospital before, or why did the thought of it make him rebel? He allowed his instinct to form the words spilling from his lips. “No. I’m fine. No hospital.”

  “But, Dio—”

  He quashed her protest. “No hospital. I promise you I’m fine.” Even though the words were spoken to reassure her, he instinctively knew they were the truth. He knew he’d be fine by tomorrow. There would be no lasting effects of his injuries. While his face ached from the cuts and bruises, he knew they were only superficial.

  “If you say so,” Ariadne conceded reluctantly.

  “We should go home, I think.” Then he took a step toward the exit of the parking lot but stopped in his tracks. “I don’t know where we live.” He felt vulnerable when he admitted his shortcoming. Had he ever felt vulnerable before? Had he ever had to rely on somebody’s help for anything before this night?

  “Come, it’s not far.” Her voice seemed a little unsure, but he attributed it to the fact that she probably still worried about his health. Any good fiancée would, wouldn’t she?

  As they walked silently, Dio glanced at her again. Something about her was familiar. Maybe this amnesia he was experiencing was only temporary and he was already starting to remember things. Surely after a few hours of rest, everything would come flooding back. He hoped it would. It would be a shame not to remember how he’d fallen in love with the gorgeous woman by his side, or not to remember the first time they’d made love.

  At the thought of her body underneath him, his cock stiffened. Oh yeah, he clearly felt the chemistry between them. His body remembered hers, and he could swear that his cock remembered how it had sunk into her sweet heat. There was no doubt in his mind that only recently they’d lain in each other’s arms and given each other pleasure.

  Dio reached for her hand and enfolded it in his palm. She gave him a quick sideways glance as if surprised by his action. Had he not been tactile with her? He couldn’t imagine it. He doubted that he could keep his hands off her for longer than five minutes at a time.

  “Tell me about yourself. I’m sorry, but I remember nothing. I wish I did. I’m sorry.” He gave her a pained look, truly regretting that he didn’t remember anything about her. All he knew was that he found her intriguing. And by the reaction of his body to her, he also knew that he desired her. Well, at least his loss of memory hadn’t eradicated his feelings for her.

  Ariadne cleared her throat. “I own a little wine shop in the city.”

  Wine? That sounded familiar. “I remember wine.” He felt almost stupid saying it, but he hoped if he reaffirmed the things he remembered, maybe his memory would come back faster. “Tell me more.”

  “It’s just a little shop. I have one employee, Lisa. She’s very good with the customers. She helps me a lot with all the changes at the shop. She gave me the idea of doing wine tasting classes at the shop to educate the customers. And she knows her wine.”

  “I know my wine,” he blurted.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Did he detect some tension in her voice? “Don’t I?”

  “You drink a lot.”

  “Oh!” A feeling akin to embarrassment flooded him. Was he a drunkard? Was that how he’d gotten into a fight and been beaten up? Because he’d been drunk? Dio shook his head. Apart from the dull ache in his head, which he attributed to his facial injuries, he didn’t feel drunk. In fact, he felt very clear headed, well, as clear headed as somebody with nothing in his head could feel. “I’m not drunk.”

  “I’m not saying you are.” The defensive tone in her took him aback.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just feel very odd. Please be patient with me. I’m sure it’ll all come back to me soon.”

  Ariadne nodded but kept her eyes on the path ahead, leading him through a narrow walkway between two rows of cottages. He perused the narrow walkway, which was intended only for foot traffic and maybe the occasional bicycle. The little cottages that lined it were built from stone and looked antique. It was quaint. He could imagine living here.

  “Where are we?”

  “Almost there.”

  “No, I mean, what’s the name of this town?”

  She glanced up at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? You can’t even remember the name of this town. That can’t be good.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need a doctor. So, where are we?”

  She sighed. “In Charleston.”

  The name sounded vaguely
familiar. “In the US,” he added for himself.

  Ariadne stopped and turned fully to him. “Of course, in the US.” Then she wrinkled her forehead again. “Why would you think that you’re in a foreign country?”

  Dio shrugged. “I don’t know.” He didn’t want to voice his suspicion to her, but the moment he’d mentioned the United States, he’d sensed that he spoke other languages too, not only English. And somehow, he knew that English wasn’t his mother tongue. But he couldn’t figure out which language was: too many foreign words suddenly floated in his head. “I’m just trying to jog my memory by repeating things,” he deflected

  She seemed to buy his explanation and continued walking. He didn’t have the heart to worry her any further. Somehow, he’d figure out what was wrong with him without making this any harder on her than it already was. It couldn’t be easy for a woman to realize that her fiancé suddenly didn’t recognize her anymore. And if this was his fault for getting into a fight, he hoped she was the forgiving sort. Which brought up another question.

  “You said you don’t know what happened. Weren’t we together before I got beaten up? We must have been, right? Otherwise, why would you have been there afterwards?”

  She flinched almost imperceptibly, but he caught it nevertheless. Had they quarreled just before? “Of course we were there together. In the bar. We … I mean you … you just went to the bathroom.” She took a deep breath. “And when you didn’t come back for a long time, I had somebody check on you, but you weren’t in there anymore. So, I went looking for you. But I didn’t see who did this to you.”

  He nodded. It sounded plausible. “Somebody must have provoked me,” he guessed.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Am I violent?” He turned to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell me, am I a violent man?”

  She stared at him, silent, and he suddenly realized how tightly his hands cupped her shoulders. He dropped his hold instantly. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I’m frustrated because I don’t know who I am and what I did before this. Do you understand that? It’s like I’ve been robbed of my life.” He turned his gaze away and studied the darkness behind her.

  When her hand suddenly cupped his cheek and stroked him tenderly, he slowly let his eyes glance at her face again.

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  But Dio barely heard her words, because all he could think of was the warmth of her palm on his cheek and her face so close to his. Without thinking, he drew her closer, and a moment later, his lips connected with hers. It was the barest of kisses, but the connection of lips on lips jolted him to awareness. Yes, Ariadne was his woman, his fiancée. Everything would be all right once he gained back his memory.

  With a smile on his lips, he released her. “Let’s go home.” Then he could take her into his arms and take away all the worries she had. While he would probably not be able to kiss her much because of his split lip, there was nothing wrong with the rest of his equipment. Even the dull ache in his head seemed to have moved into the background, and his nose throbbed only slightly now.

  “We’re here,” Ariadne announced a few moments later and halted.

  Chapter Eight

  Ariadne squinted in the dark and read the numbers on the cute two-story cottage. If her memory hadn’t failed her, this was Dio’s place. She remembered the address from when she’d had a case of wine delivered to him, but she’d never been here before. From what she could make out in the dark, there were two mailboxes, so the cottage had obviously been split into two apartments.

  “Your keys,” she asked and stretched out her hand.

  A surprised frown crossed his features. “Don’t you have keys? I mean, don’t we live together?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But we’re engaged.” He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world that engaged couples lived together. If they were really engaged, then they probably would live together. So many couples did. What better way to really get to know somebody before marriage?

  “We’re not yet married,” she added.

  “You should at least have a key to my apartment.”

  “You never offered.” And why should he? They’d only been dating for two weeks.

  Suddenly a bout of nausea hit her. What if Dio gained back his memory in a few hours and her whole charade would blow up in her face? She should have never lied to him.

  Don’t second-guess yourself, the voice in her head chided. He needs to be taught a lesson.

  No, she had to tell him the truth. She steeled herself and looked at him again, but the words that came out of her mouth weren’t what she’d planned. “So, where are your keys?” Why was she such a coward?

  He rummaged in his pants pockets and pulled out a keychain, but he didn’t hand it to her and instead unlocked the door himself. A moment later, the light in the foyer came on, and Ariadne followed him inside.

  “Upstairs or downstairs?” he asked.

  Panic skidded through her. She eyed the door to her right, where a brass letter gleamed. ‘B’ it said simply, which meant apartment A had to be upstairs. But she remembered clearly that on his wine order neither A nor B had been listed. He’d only given the house number. Frantically, the reels in her mind spun. Would he live upstairs or downstairs? If she brought him to the wrong apartment now, he’d never believe that they were engaged.

  She let her eyes glide over his body, and despite the rumpled clothes and the bloodstains on them, she knew they were expensive. The wine he’d ordered hadn’t been of the cheap varietal either and whenever he’d taken her out, he’d insisted on paying. The restaurants he’d taken her to had been the best in the city. No, she was pretty sure that Dio was reasonably well off. So, would he really live in a downstairs apartment where he’d be subjected to the sound of footsteps from above?

  “Upstairs, of course,” she said and prayed that her hunch was correct.

  Her heels echoed on the wooden steps as she followed him up the narrow stairway. She was glad that he went first. If she was wrong and his key didn’t fit, at least she wouldn’t be trapped between the closed door and his body and have to face the inquisition. She could simply bolt. And maybe that would be the preferred course of action in any case since she could clearly not muster the courage to tell him the truth. She darted a cautious glance over her shoulder, eyeing her escape route and wishing she wasn’t wearing high heels.

  Chicken! her inner voice chastised. Remember, you want to teach him a lesson because he hurt you.

  Ari swallowed away her doubts and lifted her head.

  That’s the spirit!

  Now if she could only stop talking to herself in her head, things would be perfect.

  The clicking of the lock and the sound of the old door hinges made her release the breath she’d been holding. Lucky guess, Sherlock! It seemed that the many hours spent reading detective novels had sharpened her powers of deduction and finally paid off. Putting two and two together had resulted in her guessing the correct apartment.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” Dio stood holding the door open for her, the apartment behind his broad shoulders flooded in light.

  “Sure, of course.” Ari crossed the threshold and heard him close the door behind her.

  The place wasn’t big. There was no foyer. Instead, she already stood in the open plan kitchen—or rather, kitchenette—which quickly melted into a comfortably furnished but utterly male living area: a big flat screen TV dominated one wall, and in front of it an oversized black leather couch took over most of the floor space. Tasteful modern prints adorned the walls, and rugs hid the worn—and most likely original—wooden floor.

  She watched as Dio inspected the place like a new tenant would during an open house. He strode through an open door.

  “The bedroom,” she heard him say.

  Ari planted her feet firmly in the living room, determined not to follow him into the bedroom. No, that was definitely a place where
she had no intention of being caught alone with him.

  “Don’t you want to see?” he asked and turned back to her.

  “Seen it already,” she lied.

  Dio came back into the living room. “Guess I’m the only one for whom this is new.”

  She gave him a faint smile. “I think we should clean your wounds and see whether you need some bandages.” The least she could do in exchange for deceiving him was to take care of his injuries.

  Ari turned on her heels and headed for the bathroom. The sooner she helped him take care of his wounds, the faster she could leave and bring her thundering heart under control. She had hoped that after the way he’d treated her, she wouldn’t feel this continuing attraction for him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Seeing him like this when he seemed vulnerable, his arrogance stripped away like dead skin, made her feel almost protective of him. He needed her now that he knew nothing about his old life.

  When Dio stepped into the small bathroom behind her, she felt his presence physically. She busied herself with searching for a first aid kit but found none. Figured. She would just have to do with some clean hand towels and warm water.

  She raised her lids and saw him inspecting his face in the mirror.

  “Shit, I look like crap!”

  She chuckled. “Not all the time.” It was out before she could stop herself. And it was true; Dio was a handsome man, even though his face was in bad shape right now. But underneath lay more beauty than any man should possess.

  He grinned at her admission. “I’m glad to hear that. I’d hate it if you’d merely settled for me when I know you can have any man you want.” He swept an appreciative gaze over her face, and Ari felt her cheeks heat at his hidden compliment. Did he really mean that? But if he did, why had he broken up with her? It made no sense.

  “Go ahead and sit on the toilet there so I can tend to your face.”

  When she turned back to him, a moist towel in her hand, Dio sat there like a good boy and surveyed her expectantly. His legs were spread eagle the way a dominant man sat. It left her no choice but to stand in between his thighs to get close enough to clean up his face.