by Unknown
A shadow fell over Tyler, briefly covering the light streaming from the stained glass walls of the church’s balcony. When he looked up, Tyler did his very best not to gape.
Leandro Christopoulos.
It really was him!
Tyler nodded to his cameraman, who immediately raised his camera to his shoulder and zoomed in on the Christopoulos heir.
Tyler giddily took in his fill of the billionaire swiftly making his way to the podium. Tall, dark-haired, and olive skinned, Leandro was very much like the Greek god he was often called by his fans worldwide. Dressed entirely in black, he cut an imposing figure, his presence so magnetic and strong it felt like he was omnipotent.
There was a look of deep respect in most of the locals’ eyes as they gazed at Leandro, almost like they wanted to bow down as the new head of the Christopoulos family walked past them.
When Leandro came to stand behind the microphone, Tyler heard the women next to him inhale sharply, the sound akin to someone who, after living in darkness for so long, just had a glimpse of the sun.
In all honesty, that was how the past twelve months had felt like, Tyler thought. He was a proud member of the Leandro Christopoulos fans club and had been one of the millions heartbroken upon learning that Leandro was joining his family as they withdrew from the public while in mourning.
Not a single picture of any of them surfaced in the media, which was why the press had gone crazy when the announcement about Orion Christopoulos’ death anniversary had been released. After one long year of being starved from any semi-naked and sweaty photos of one of the world’s most infamous bikers, the public was willing to pay just about anything to catch a glimpse of him.
As Leandro spoke of his gratitude for those who had come to honor his father’s passing, Tyler was content to just stare at the billionaire. His cameraman could fill him in later about whatever it was that Leandro said. Now, all he wanted to do was daydream and pretend that he was the one girl allowed to be with Leandro during the past year.
According to those close to the family, Leandro, his younger sister, and his mother had worn black every day of their mourning as well as refrained from attending any social gathering.
There were also rumors about how the Christopoulos family had made personal sacrifices as a way of exhibiting their deep sorrows over Orion’s passing. Tyler had heard from the grapevine that Orion’s widow had gone on a year-long fast, the young girl had taken to studying at home, while Leandro…
What had Leandro Christopoulos sacrificed? Tyler pondered with a frown. Maybe he went off womanizing? He still remembered Leandro’s younger days fondly. Every time Leandro had won a race, he would take off his shirt and throw it to the crowd. Catfights always erupted after that because everyone knew whoever could bring his shirt back to Leandro would have the privilege of sleeping with him that night. As for the rest, well, they had the consolation of being able to gawk at Leandro’s half-naked body.
Those days were the best, Tyler thought with another inner sigh. Leandro Christopoulos had been the wildest of wild cards, taking every kind of dare and challenge thrown at him. And, oh, the parties he had thrown and the stories that always emerged after, of his prowess in the bedroom. Once, there had even been a rumor going on about Leandro’s ability to make a woman come in five minutes. Leandro had denied it on camera – and then proceeded to prove to the sexy reporter that he was able to do it in less by making her come in three and a half.
Tyler was abruptly pulled out of his memories when he heard the minister declaring that the service was over. That only meant one thing – the short interview that Leandro Christopoulos had promised to grant after the service would finally start.
He immediately shot forward, wanting to be the first to reach the billionaire, but just as swiftly, Leandro was surrounded by his security team. From the corner of his eye, Tyler saw another group of security officers drawing away Leandro’s mother and sister and leading them to the side exit of the church. Tyler squashed a pang of regret. It would have been nice if he could have interviewed Leandro’s younger sister, too. He had heard a juicy rumor about her, and what a coup it would be if he could confirm its truth.
“Tyler Jenkins?”
Tyler’s head snapped towards the voice, and he paled when he realized that Leandro Christopoulos was speaking to him. Shit. Was he in some kind of trouble here? Or maybe Greek billionaires like Leandro Christopoulos were homophobic and he hadn’t known about it? And how the hell did Leandro know his name? Sure, he had heard about Leandro being some kind of ruthlessly intelligent tycoon – the kind you didn’t cross, but did that also mean he had some kind of super memory powers?
As far as he could remember, Tyler had only been introduced to the billionaire once. He was one of thousands of reporters introduced to the other man, and yet Leandro knew his full name. Tyler wondered nervously if it meant he had committed some kind of faux pas unknowingly. Although he was far from being an expert when it came to Greek society, what little he knew told him that a Christopoulos’ word here was law.
When he realized that everyone was staring at him and Leandro Christopoulos was waiting for him to speak, Tyler stammered, “M-my c-condolences, sir.”
The Greek billionaire only nodded and asked mildly, “Do you have a question? You were the first one to reach me, and so it is only fair that I allow you to start the interview.”
Tyler gulped. God, he felt like he was being eyed by a shark. An extremely powerful shark, one who could snap him into pieces if he wanted to. Tyler had to remind himself several times that he was in his mid-thirties and was thus a decade older than the Greek billionaire. He was the mature one here, he told himself firmly. Maturity and experience always counted. He shouldn’t be intimidated by this boy.
But when he looked back at the “boy”, Tyler’s courage fled.
Leandro Christopoulos might have been a boy once – might have been a carefree daredevil playboy in the past, but he had changed now.
Maybe it was the loss of his father. The passing of time. Maybe it was even the alleged loss of his first love Bobby Granger. It could be anything, but one thing was very clear – Leandro Christopoulos was not the same man he had been a year ago.
“Your question, Mr. Jenkins?” Leandro asked.
The tone was threaded with the slightest hint of impatience, making Tyler even more nervous. He blurted out unthinkingly, “Wh-what do you think of Sabastian Gabris?”
The crowd of reporters behind him collectively drew their breaths at the same time Tyler did. He wanted to bang his head on the wall. Oh God, now he was in for it, Tyler thought fearfully. Why the hell had he asked that of all things? Everyone knew---
“Sabastian Gabris?”
Tyler slowly peeked at Leandro’s face and almost gaped at the other man’s look of puzzlement. Oh dear Lord – did that mean everyone but Leandro Christopoulos knew about Sabastian Gabris?
“We have been rivals in the past,” Leandro said. “But I don’t see what he has to do with me now.”
Before Tyler could figure out how to answer that, another reporter was already handing Leandro an iPad. Tyler caught a glimpse of what was on the screen and gulped at the headlines.
SABASTIAN GABRIS AND BOBBY GRANGER – SECRETLY DATING?
Someone yelped in the crowd.
It was the owner of the iPad and when Tyler looked back at Leandro, he realized with a wince that the billionaire’s grip had been so strong he had left a very visible dent on the screen.
Leandro Christopoulos slowly forced his fingers to loosen its grip on the iPad and handed it back to its unfortunate owner. “You will be compensated for that,” he heard himself murmuring before swiftly turning around and heading to the side doors of the church.
The crowd of reporters protested loudly, shouting questions and complaining about him not keeping his word.
The noise they made was deafening, but Leandro didn’t really hear a word of what they were saying. All he was aware of right n
ow was Bobby. His Bobby. His Bobby, caught on camera in the arms of another man.
His chest felt like it was caving in at the tortuous pain the image evoked.
No. Fuck no. It couldn’t fucking be true.
Chapter One
Inhale, exhale.
“You can do this,” Roberta “Bobby” Granger muttered as she gave her reflection a Mean Look in the mirror. People who worked for her always told Bobby her Mean Looks were very effective, that they were so scary it forced everyone to do what she wanted. Hopefully, her Mean Look would also work on her stubborn heart.
The sudden loud banging on the door made Bobby jump. “Jeez, Bobby, are you doing Number 2 or what?”
No. She was not doing Number 2. What she was doing was Number Zero, which meant she was this close to drowning herself in the toilet bowl until she choked and died. That was a lot better than what – who – waited for her outside.
“Bobby!”
She took another deep breath. “You can do this, Bobby. You’re a strong woman. You can’t be affected. You don’t love him anymore.” And today was the most important day to prove it.
F looked at her oddly as she emerged from the powder room. “Are you okay?”
F wasn’t his real name, but it was how her boss wanted to be called. According to society gossip, F stood for three things: French, Fashion, and “Fuck You”, which the sixty-something self-made millionaire liked to say to every lazy-ass individual he happened to meet.
“Bobby?”
No, of course she was not freaking okay. She had just found out that her ex-boyfriend was in America when all this time, she thought an entire ocean still stood between them. How the hell could she be okay? She needed that much space from him to survive. And now, that space was gone.
But out loud all she said was, “I’m really fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She had her pride, after all.
“Truthfully, Bobby, between Nessa and me, it wouldn’t be too hard to pick the bikers for the opening act before the race.”
Today was the last day of auditions for bikers to make up their next fundraiser’s opening act, and Bobby’s conscience wouldn’t allow her to bail at the last minute, knowing Nessa and F’s weakness for sexy men in leather. “I can’t trust the two of you to do this right. You’d probably end up picking the hottest-looking bikers and never mind if the only kind of bike they can ride are those with training wheels.”
F harrumphed. “You wound me.” Her boss started walking, leaving Bobby no choice but to reluctantly fall into step next to him. Each step made it more difficult for her to breathe. She started to wonder if he would feel the same at the thought of meeting her again, after all this time, but pushed the thought away a moment later.
Just because they were now both on the same continent didn’t mean he was back in her life again.
He wasn’t.
He couldn’t ever be again.
Before exiting the dugout, F’s steps halted and when she looked at him questioningly, he said in a more sober tone, “I’m serious, Bobby. I thought you knew since the news came out last night---”
She explained tonelessly, “I was asleep when the news broke out. And by the time I realized…he was here, I just couldn’t make myself…” Bobby inhaled deeply. “I just don’t want him to think I’m still affected.”
Not wanting to talk anymore about The Person Who Didn’t Deserve to be Named, Bobby took the first step out of the dugout. Harsh afternoon sunlight immediately blazed down on her, and she shielded her gaze as if the brightness was hurting her eyes. In truth, however, she just wanted a moment to compose herself – a moment to school her expression so that every darn reporter zealously waiting for her to react would have nothing to gossip about.
Because that was how she felt.
How he had left her feeling.
Nothing.
When F reached her side, they began walking together, both of them ignoring the paps in silent agreement. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before. F was one of the few openly gay millionaires in the world, and just a few months ago, it had been F targeted by the press when word broke out that his long-term partner had embezzled money from him. That time, it had been Bobby who helped him pick up the pieces. Now, F considered it his turn to return the favor.
Dozens of camera bulbs were furiously flashing, their lenses zoomed in, all of the reporters desperate to catch a possible glimpse of the philanthropic heiress’ reaction. Bobby Granger was still an enigma to them. She was so unfashionable, almost fat, and very dull, with not a scandal attached to her name. How in the world had she made someone like Leandro Christopoulos fall in love with her? Could it be true that all this time the Greek billionaire had even pined for her? And how was it that she had managed to do it again, capturing the heart of yet another beautiful Greek god?
Life was so very unfair, the more malicious members of the lot thought, and so they glared as Bobby Granger walked past them at a leisurely pace.
“They hate you,” F whispered to her cheerfully as they joined the rest of the staff at the center of the circuit. He was of the mind that any publicity was good publicity. Although he hurt for Bobby, his mind was already trying to come up with ways on how to turn this sudden furor of the media over Bobby to the foundation’s advantage.
“I know,” she whispered back in the same tone even though she really wasn’t cheerful. Everyone was still either staring or glaring at her, and when she felt beads of sweat starting to drip down her forehead, Bobby quickly wiped them away. She didn’t want to give the paps any chance to take a photo and make her sweat look like tears running down her face.
Bobby focused her attention on the small group of bikers preparing for their “audition”. All of them were tall and powerfully built, with their helmets on and wearing leather jackets and pants. In other words, they were out to impress and be the one biker to perform the opening act for their next fundraiser.
F waved at her to join him. “Quite a turnout, isn’t it? There are still more reporters coming in – I think you should hold a press conference. But make them promise that they’ll cover our next fundraiser first.”
“You’re so opportunistic.” But she was smiling when she said it. F was opportunistic, but then so was she.
“I have absolutely no plans arguing on that score,” F said with a wink. “That’s why I’ve got a quarter billion in my bank account.” Pulling out his pink handkerchief from the breast pocket of his shiny silver three-piece suit, F began patting his face dry of sweat.
Bobby rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just take off your blazer?”
“And let all those gorgeous bikers see my waistline? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re all straight.”
“I’m pretty sure my money can convince them otherwise.” F glanced back at the bikers. “Ready to see the first one perform his stunt?”
Bobby nodded.
F did a little hand wave and the first biker revved his bike, the roar of its engine powerful enough to give Bobby a little shiver. There was also this tiniest twinge in her heart, a faded memory of a photo shoot where she had sat on his lap in his bike, but she shook the thought away as well.
A gust of wind hit her, and Bobby looked up just in time to see the biker speed past her, shooting up the ramp at such incredible speed she couldn’t help holding her breath like everyone as the biker soared over the ramp and drove dead center into the metal ring suspended from two steel poles.
Applause broke out as the biker made a 180-degree twist in the air to face the crowd of reporters by the time his bike hit the ground.
F let out a loud wolf whistle even as he whispered to Bobby, “This one I don’t care what he looks like. He definitely needs to be part of the front act.”
“He definitely went all out with that one,” she murmured. “Maybe the guy needs a huge backer.” Her mind was already busy going through the foundation’s list of sponsors. Maybe Kastein, Inc. would sponsor
the biker if he went pro. The company’s Dutch billionaire CEO could be quite generous given the right project or beneficiary.
“Do you have his CV with you?” Bobby asked.
“It’s with Nessa.” F called their most recently recruited heiress over.
The bubbly blonde skipped to them, and Bobby couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Nessa Carmichael was already in her mid-twenties, but she still acted like a high school girl most times. “Yes, boss?”
“Bobby wants to look at the first performer’s resume.”
Dismay fell over Nessa’s face. “Oh, umm, well, you see…”
“Don’t play cute with us, Nessa. You know it won’t work.”
Nessa blurted out, “I don’t have it. He was a last minute addition, and he told me he really wanted to be a part of this so…I felt bad for him and let him audition.”
“Do you have his name at least?” Bobby asked.
Nessa nodded eagerly. “He said his name was…” Her brow furrowed. “It sounded like coffee.”
“Coffee?” F and Bobby were both bemused.
The biker who had just performed was heading towards them now, and Bobby wondered if it would be safe to accept him as part of the opening act when apparently he hadn’t gone through the foundation’s preliminary checks. Bobby liked being thorough and always requested for background checks on anyone who had business with the foundation. She didn’t want anyone with a criminal background – and that included speeding tickets – within a mile of her kids.
“Nessa, his name, please,” F said impatiently.
“I’m trying to remember it…I swear it really did sound something like coffee…”
The biker had reached them, and Bobby belated realized he was much taller than he had seemed from afar, forcing her to look up. Something about him was terribly familiar, and her heart started to beat a crazy erratic rhythm.
Surely, it couldn’t be---
Nessa exclaimed, “I got it!” A smile broke over her face. “He said his name was kópanos.”