by Marian Tee
Her eyes closed involuntarily, and it was that easy.
She just had to hide from the stark brightness of reality, and the darkness allowed her to remember.
Stavros telling her not to fuck herself up because he had wanted her to succeed—
Stavros forcing her to take over new projects because he had believed in her—
Stavros loving her without knowing he did—
She remembered and even after everything, she just couldn’t hate him.
Dragging air into her lungs, she whispered, “He’s not a bad man. He never was. He’s the most gentle, the most loving…” A sound that was part-sob and part-laugh escaped her. “He just needs time to realize that I really do love him and that I’ll never betray him.”
****
Stavros pushed himself off the balcony’s marbled ledge when Willem returned. He asked starkly, “Is she fine?” The guilt had not left him the moment he stepped out of the room and locked the door behind him. It had only taken a couple of minutes before he had made the decision to call Willem and ensure someone was there for Willow when she woke up.
Instead of answering, Willem said abruptly, “Make me understand something, Stavros. You are a long-time friend of mine, and I have always thought you were an honorable man. If you’re that worried about her, then why hurt her in the first place?”
“None of your fucking business.” Stavros’ gaze narrowed. “Unless of course your interest in her extends beyond the professional?” Jealousy twisted in his chest at the thought that Willem de Konigh might soon be the man to replace him in Willow’s life, and he said in a low, violent undertone, “Answer me, Willem. Do you want her that way?”
“And if I do?” Willem’s face remained impassive.
“Then our friendship is over.”
In response, the Dutch billionaire only lifted a brow. “Rather strong sentiments, don’t you think, for someone you supposedly no longer care about?”
“Stop twisting my words,” he exploded. “You think you know her, is that it? You think I’m being cruel?” Stavros laughed humorlessly. “She’s a bitch, Willem—”
“And since she is that, then why are we still talking about her? I’m not forcing you to make her a part of your life, am I?” Willem’s reasonable tone made Stavros want to punch some sense into him.
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Stavros snarled.
“Fair enough.” Willem turned away.
Before his friend could leave, Stavros heard himself say, “You haven’t told me how she is.”
Willem stilled.
When the silence between them persisted, Stavros said flatly, “I just want to know she’s…”
“She looked like someone threw her under the bus.” Willem turned around to give his friend a coldly pleasant smile. “That should ensure you a good night’s sleep.”
When Willem was gone, Stavros struck the walls with his fist. His knuckles started to bleed, but he ignored it, punching the wall again and again until the pain turned into numbness.
Chapter Seven
Willow had just finished pinning emerald drops to her ears when she heard someone knock on the door. It had been three days since the last time she had seen Stavros, and as she raced towards the door, she wondered if tonight was finally—
She opened the door and saw Willem and Willem, Jr.
At the expression on her face, Willem asked bluntly, “You are disappointed it is not Manolis?”
Letting them in, she closed the door and turned to her employer with a wan smile. “Stupid, right?”
“If it’s any consolation, he asked me again about you during yesterday’s luncheon, but I told him you were not to be disturbed.”
“As you should have, Mr. de Konigh,” Serenity said. “Ms. Somerset needs time to recover herself.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you think it’s your duty to agree with the boss.”
“That, too, but I sincerely believe you need to spend more time away from Mr. Manolis.” A rare frown had appeared on Serenity’s normally pretty but expressionless face. “How you can still love him after…” She cut herself off abruptly. “I apologize, Ms. Somerset.”
Willow waved the apology away. “It’s cool. You’re not saying anything I haven’t told myself.”
Willem opened the door. “Shall we go then?”
As the three of them headed towards the north wing, she said awkwardly, “Mr. de Konigh?”
“Yes, Ms. Somerset?”
She said with even more awkwardness, “Thank you for…everything. I’m not sure if you’ve got an ulterior motive for helping me, but whatever, I’m still thankful.”
“No ulterior motive, Ms. Somerset,” the Dutch billionaire said dryly. “But the truth is something worse.”
Her eyes widened. “There’s something worse than an ulterior motive?”
“Ennui.”
Serenity glanced sharply at their boss.
“I’ve become...rather alarmingly bored with my life in the past few years, and seeing you and Stavros Manolis struggle is...interesting.” He turned to Serenity. “Stop that, Serenity.”
“Ms. Raleigh, and I don’t know what you mean.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop Googling the suicide rate of those who confess to having ennui.”
A horrified look crossed Serenity’s face. “How did you know?”
“How can I not? I’ve known you since you were a kid, Serenity.”
Her lips tightened and as they paused before the ballroom’s main doors, Serenity said under her breath, “We shall talk about this next time, sir.”
The doors opened and the three of them fell in line behind a couple of noblemen from England.
Willem glanced at Willow, saying conversationally, “To be perfectly honest, Serenity is one of the few things in life that I find interesting. She’s so bloody perfect she makes me feel imperfect, and I want to do things to shock her.”
“You are shocking me now, sir,” Serenity said promptly once their names had been announced and they were being ushered to their tables.
“This is where we part, I’m afraid, Ms. Somerset.”
“Enjoy the evening,” she said. When Willem bowed down to her, Willow winked at Serenity.
A polite smile on her face, Serenity hissed, “Stop that, Ms. Somerset.”
But Willow managed another wink before Willem had straightened. As the Dutch billionaire took his intern’s hand and drew her to the opposite direction, Willow followed the attendant assigned to her.
“Your seat, Ms. Somerset.” The attendant pulled out the chair for her.
“Thank you.” She had barely seated herself when another attendant pulled out the chair next to her.
“Your seat, Mr. Manolis.”
Her head jerked up, and her astonishment was mirrored in Stavros’ eyes.
“Willow.” He slowly took his seat next to her.
“Stavros.” She tried not to seem desperate as she looked around. Everywhere was safer except him. The royal ballroom was huge, probably the same size as the Madison Square Garden but as elegant as an art gallery in France. There weren’t that many guests, probably just under two hundred, all close friends and relatives of the royal family.
Knowing there was no other way to go about his apology, Stavros said tersely, “I’m sorry.”
Was he? She couldn’t be sure, not when his apology sounded forced, as if Stavros was being made to eat a handful of nails.
Right now, there wasn’t anyone sitting with them yet, but Stavros knew it was only a matter of time before their table would be completely occupied. He had to clear things up with her before that happened. When the silence became unbearable, he gritted out, “Say something, dammit.”
Still not looking at him, Willow asked lightly, “Sorry for what? For leaving me on the floor like a paid whore?”
Color stained his cheeks, but even so, Stavros forced himself to acknowledge the truth in her words. “Yes. I�
�m sorry for that among other things. I won’t do it again.”
“Do what?” Finally, she looked at him, and she taunted in a low, throaty voice, “Not fuck me again?”
Stavros stiffened when under the table, Willow placed a hand on his thigh. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Have you fucked Ingrid Mendel since that day?”
“No.”
Her hand moved up. “Have you fucked any other—”
“If you really want to know,” Stavros bit out, “then no, I can’t even get my damn cock up for any other woman since that night.”
Her hand went straight to his cock, and she purred, “But it’s up now.”
Stavros’ entire body shuddered at the touch. “What the hell are you playing at?”
Her lips curved. “You really have to ask?” As she spoke, her fingers wrapped around his length and started stroking, up and down.
He made himself ask. “You need something from me, don’t you?”
Ah. She almost released him at his question. It hurt so much to know that it was the only reason he could think of to explain her interest in him.
She was still giving him a hand job, the most arousing hand job he had ever had, but she didn’t seem inclined at all to answer him.
Willow started in her seat when his fingers wrapped around her wrist under the table and tightened, keeping it from moving.
“No more games,” Stavros gritted out. “What do you want?”
She had dozens of answers to that. She wanted him. Wanted to be married to him, be loved by him. She wanted to live with him, wanted to sleep in his arms—
God, so many answers and yet she couldn’t say any of them.
“Willem made a move on you, hasn’t he? And you refused him?”
Her mouth opened and closed. Where the heck had he gotten that from? Her head snapped towards him, and she was even more stunned to see how serious he was. He really did believe something was going on between her and her new boss.
Her first instinct was to move her hand to his balls and then squeeze them dry as punishment. How many times – how many times, dammit, would he keep thinking the worst of her before he understood she really did love him?
But then common sense kicked in, along with a healthy dose of shrewd ideas and wildly desperate hopes, and Willow heard herself ask, “And if it’s true?”
“Then I already know what you need.”
“Y-you do?”
“You’re a smart woman, Willow. I’m sure you can figure it out. Your job’s on the line. It became so the moment you refused to be his mistress.”
A devil prompted her into saying, “Actually he wanted me as a wife.”
“No fucking way.”
“Yep. But I refused because he wanted to make me sign a pre-nup first.”
“Understandable.”
She raised her chin. “Not in my book.”
A look of disgust flickered in Stavros’ face. “You can’t seriously think you can persuade a billionaire to marry you without a pre-nup.”
She looked at him under her lashes.
His lips twisted. “Funny. Fucking funny.”
She wriggled her hand out of his hold and when he let her go, she started stroking him again. She couldn’t help it. His cock was like a magnet, and it needed to be in her hand, mouth, or pussy. As she stroked him, he jerked in her hand, and she smiled. “You were saying?”
“Fuck me.”
She pouted. “Not that.”
“Fuck me now.”
Willow pursed her lips. “I’m serious.”
“Fine.” His jaw clenched. “Let’s be serious. I fell for you once, and I gave you everything.”
Lie, she thought. He had given her everything but his heart, which had been too broken to love her or be loved.
“You could have had anything you wanted if you married me and hadn’t said anything about your duplicity.”
Lie again, Willow thought. She could have had anything, materially, except for what mattered most, and that was his love and trust.
“So why didn’t you, Willow? Why didn’t you just shut up? Why couldn’t you just have lied and thought of England and tried not to laugh in my face while I whispered sweet nothings to your ears?”
She whispered, “Because I couldn’t stand lying anymore.”
And that was the truth.
Stavros whitened.
Seeing it made her want to cry, but she knew that wasn’t going to help either of them. If she was nice, he would just end up pushing her away, thinking that her good deeds were prompted by pity.
“So now you know,” she said flatly. “And now we can start again. If you want.” She looked into his eyes. “Because...when we parted, I realized that no other man could compare to you. Or your cock.” She added the last one impulsively, knowing it was better Stavros thought she was sex-crazed than have him figure out she was hopelessly in love with him.
Stavros’ handsome face had become unreadable. “And that’s it?”
“You’ll be supporting me too, of course.” Willow spoke the words in a rush, knowing she had to say it to make everything plausible but even so, hating the fact that she did. She hated it even more when Stavros, echoing her last words, drawled mockingly, “Of course.”
It made her flinch inside, but outwardly, she could make herself smile serenely. “I’m glad we understand each other.” She hesitated. “Oh, and one last thing.” She took a deep breath.”I also want no more words.” At his frown, she clarified uneasily, “We don’t talk about anything but sex.” Because, between them, words tended to get in the way. Words could transform truths into lies, words could be said just to hurt rather than comfort.
She was sick of words, and she was sure Stavros was just as sick of them. They both grew up with parents who said a lot of the right things, but none of them were true.
No, this time she was banking on actions speaking louder than words. This time, she was hoping actions could eventually make Stavros see the truth about him, her, and how they felt for each other.
She smiled at him.
He smiled back, but she could see that it didn’t reach his eyes, and his voice was more hollow than light as he murmured, “I suppose we have a deal then.” He raised a brow. “You want it in writing?”
She shook her head. Lowering her voice, she suggested, “How about we fuck on it instead?”
His eyes glittered.
Her breath quickened.
And in that instant, everything became secondary, every painful moment shared between them temporarily laid aside as they focused on the present and how their bodies were straining to be against each other.
Now.
They saw it in each other’s eyes.
He wanted to fuck her. She wanted to fuck him.
A moment later, and they stood up. They started to walk, side by side but their hands not quite touching. They couldn’t afford to. Sexual tension between them had reached feverish heights, and they both knew that the tiniest touch could make them spontaneously combust.
People began to stare. People began to talk. People began to guess, correctly, what they were up to, at the way they so hurriedly walked towards the doors and mumbled incoherent excuses to those who bothered to block their way and make small talk with them.
Everyone could see it in their faces. The glitter in the Greek billionaire’s eyes. The rosy flush of his ex-secretary’s cheeks. They could almost smell the scent of desire that perfumed their flesh, and it made those who noticed fidget in their seats or shift on their feet. Just looking at Stavros Manolis and Willow Somerset was a turn on, and most of them felt the keenest sense of envy that the two would be leaving the ball right that moment to fuck each other’s brains out.
When they finally made it past the doors, Stavros asked harshly, “Yours or mine?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Mine.” She would never lie in his bed here, not when she knew he had shared it with another woman before her.
They didn’t speak after that, and when her hand shook so badly while trying to unlock her door, Stavros simply took the card key from her. Another moment passed, and the door was unlocked.
Another moment, and they were inside, alone.
Another moment, and they were on each other.
Their mouths fused as they hurriedly tore each other’s clothes off. When they were both naked, Stavros half-carried, half-pushed her to the bed, managing to get her under him without breaking the kiss. He began to fondle her, taking his time massaging her breasts, kneading the pale, sweet, succulent flesh until their heavy, swollen feel made her moan against his mouth.
Releasing her mouth to let her breathe, Stavros devoted his attention to her breasts next. One by one, he kissed them, licking the tip over and over until it stood stiff and proud, a puckering rose that begged to be devoured. And devour he did, laving it with his tongue, sucking on it until Willow started to beg for relief. Not listening to her, he instead moved to her other breast, torturing and pleasing it in the same way. It had Willow arching against him, almost pushing him off the bed at the sudden jerk of her body.
She gripped his hair with both hands and pulled him off her breasts. “STAVROS, PLEASE!” When he looked at her, she begged him, “Fuck me.”
Stavros laughed hoarsely. “Demanding as ever.” But even now, he couldn’t resist the way she pled so beautifully, and nudging her thighs apart, he gave her what they both wanted.
His cock in her sex.
She sobbed the moment he entered her, and her cries became louder with each thrust. “Stavros, Stavros.” She chanted his name over and over, tears falling from her eyes just because she thought she would never be able to say his name again this way. Clutching his muscular buttocks for anchor, she lifted her hips up to meet his downward thrust, causing his cock to drive so deep into her pussy she started seeing stars.
The way she cried out his name drove him wild. There was so much need in it, so much fucking emotions that it tempted him to think the impossible. Gritting his teeth, he pushed all thoughts of feelings aside and concentrated on what he had.
Her obsession with his body, and her addiction to how he made love.