by Marian Tee
When Stavros walked away again, she didn’t bother stopping him. She broke into a run, or at least she tried to, ignoring the pain as much as she could. When she reached Willem’s suite, she threw the door open and said abruptly, “I’ve done a bad thing.”
The two occupants in the room raised their heads in unison.
“A bad thing, you?” Willow scoffed.
Her head bobbed several times. “I did, and you may hate me forever for it.” She bowed profusely. “I accept whatever punishment—”
Cutting Serenity off, Willow shook her head with a laugh. “Will you stop that?” She looked at her employer curiously, asking, “Did you train her to be a samurai or something?”
“No, Ms. Somerset. It was entirely voluntarily on her part.”
“Will you please be serious?”
This time, Willem and Willow were both stunned into silence.
“Stavros Manolis is back and I lied to him. I made it seem like you’ve been here in Mr. de Konigh’s suite for a while and you’ve been intimate.” Throughout her speech, Serenity struggled with the desire to cover her ears and prevent her from hearing her own voice.
“Oh.” Willow blinked. “Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to punish him, Ms. Somerset,” she admitted shamefully. “He had been cruel to you, and I thought he deserved to feel a little bit of your pain.”
“I see.” Willow grinned. “Did he get jealous?” She was already imagining it, and she kind of liked the thought, vindictive or not. He deserved it, after making her jealous for a real reason—
The look on Serenity’s face made her smile fade. “Serenity?”
“He was jealous, but Ms. Somerset, he didn’t hate you for it.”
Willow whitened.
****
When Stavros unlocked the door to his room, darkness greeted him, which he expected. What he did not expect, however, was a figure rising from the bed, along with a throaty and slurred voice saying, “Welcome back, darling.”
Ingrid.
He switched the lights open, and his worst fears were confirmed. It was Ingrid. She was naked again and too drunk to get out of his room without causing a scandal. God. Damn. It.
Ingrid was trying to walk towards him, but she had already fallen thrice, and with another mental curse, he stalked across the room, picked her up, and dumped the woman on his bed. “Stay there.”
“Oooooh. Of course.” She started pleasuring herself.
Stavros was completely unaffected by the sight. “How did you get in?”
Too drunk to think of lying, Ingrid sang out the truth. “A cousin. Bribed. Keys.”
First thing in the morning, that cousin would be fired, once he told Willem about the breach.
Someone knocked on his door, and Ingrid’s fingers on her sex stopped moving.
Not wanting to risk having her come out and be seen naked, he said, “Ignore it. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
Ingrid fell back against the bed. “Yes, Master.” She giggled.
Swearing in five different languages, Stavros made his way back to the door. He opened it—
“Willow.” Something in his chest shifted at the sight of her, pale and breathing hard, as if she had run all the way to his room on her deathbed. It was not a good vision to have, and he asked abruptly, “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” He hoped she would say yes, whether it was a lie or not. It would be a lame excuse for her presence in Willem’s suite, but he would take it.
She shook her head, feeling faint at his concern. He was concerned about her. She repeated the words to herself. That was something, right? That was not indifference. Wanting to clear things up as quickly as she could, she started, “Willem—”
Stavros’ face didn’t change.
Oh God, was he indifferent?
Did he not...hate her anymore?
The words were stuck in her throat, forcing her to swallow several times. “Stavros, I—”
But then she heard it.
That voice. The moanaholic’s voice.
It went on and on, and she looked at Stavros, waiting, begging. “Please say something.” She whispered the words out loud. Anything. Just to tell her he wasn’t fucking the Dutch shit again.
For a moment, he wanted to explain. For a moment, he wanted to roar out his fury, his pain, his emptiness. But then tiredness settled on his shoulders, and he knew he wouldn’t do any of those things. What was the point? Even knowing where she had come from, even knowing what she had done, it didn’t matter.
He still could not live without her, and the pain in her eyes told him it was the same for her.
Stavros cocked his head backwards, indicating Ingrid in silence. “I can’t let you in here, obviously.” He affected a grimace.
She could only stare at him, unable to understand why he said those words of all things.
He forced a smile. “Let me just take a shower and I’ll join you in your room instead.”
He pulled her towards him, and sheer shock made her unable to resist.
“I missed you, you know.” Stavros bent his head to kiss her on the hair—
She stepped back.
That kiss...
With that moan in the background...
She had never felt so cheap in her life, not even when Stavros had left her naked on the floor like a discarded whore, his cum still leaking down her legs.
It was that look in her eyes again. Devastating. Crippling. Defeated. But he told himself it would pass. Even when everything in him revolted at what he was doing, at what he was about to say, even though his own fucking heart told him it was not supposed to be like this between them, Stavros forced himself to ignore all the internal clamor.
Adopting a light voice, he said, “Don’t be like that. You know the real score between us. I’ll just take a quick shower and be with you in a minute.”
He touched her cheek.
She flinched.
Stavros forced himself to ignore it, murmuring, “Be a good girl and wait for me, mm? I promise I’ll make up for my absence. I’ll let you even call me motherfucker.”
The door closed in her face.
No. Only when she was alone in the hallway did she find the strength to answer him. No, Stavros. She had thought she knew the real score between them and he didn’t, but as it turned out, it was the opposite. He had known and she hadn’t.
But she knew now.
She fumbled for her earbuds. She clutched her phone, but the screen was now wet with her tears, one drop after another, falling, making it hard for her to swipe and click. But she finally did it, and the music started playing again in her ears.
One day, Stavros.
She started walking away.
You’ll know that all this was for you.
But for now she had to go.
She just couldn’t take it anymore.
Chapter Ten
It was a routine by now. He would wake up in the morning and check the room next to his. He would do it again every two hours, regularly without fail, telling himself that one day she would be back.
But a week had already passed and she still wasn’t back.
Slowly, Stavros lowered himself to sit on the edge of her bed. The room was completely bare, shorn of Willow’s personality. She was a messy person, he knew. She only needed a few minutes to make a room completely hers the only way she knew how. Rumpled sheets, dirty clothes on the floor, and piles and piles of research strewn all over the room, taped to the wall, stuck between the pages of a Bible.
But this room had none of that.
It smelled clean and fragrant, new and unoccupied, all signs of Willow’s presence ruthlessly erased by housekeeping.
The pain he had felt the first time he had learned she was gone had only grown each day, and he wasn’t sure if it would ever go away. If he wanted to, he knew that he could and would be able to find her. But that didn’t feel like the right thing to do.
If he went after her, it would be no different fr
om willingly putting the blindfold on his eyes, and he just couldn’t do that anymore. It was not right.
He loved her. It was a truth he freely embraced now, but that had never been the problem. The point where everything had gone wrong was when Willow made it obvious she could not love him. She wanted him to love her, wanted him to be faithful to her, even when she was unable to do the same things for him.
And at one point, he had been tempted to let that happen. At the weakest point of his life, he had allowed the beliefs his parents had harnessed in him to shape his decisions. He had been willing to take whatever crumbs she felt like throwing his way because he had thought it wasn’t right for him to ask for more.
After all, love couldn’t be forced or bought. It couldn’t even be earned. God knew he had tried everything with his parents and it hadn’t worked.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.
Please have her come back.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had prayed, but he knew it was the only thing he could do now.
If she came back, he would love her and he would teach her to love him.
A knock sounded on the door, and his head lifted sharply.
But it was only Serenity.
“Mr. Manolis, you have a visitor waiting for you at the drawing room in the north wing.”
****
His name was Roland. He was a famous avant-garde fashion designer, a flamboyant Frenchman who was as different as night and day when compared to his more staid lover, the late Giorgio Manolis.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Roland said.
Stavros only nodded. “Please sit down.” Although he recognized the other man by face, he had never met the man in person until now.
“I came here as soon as I found out about what Edith did.”
Stavros was nonplussed. “My mother’s done something again?”
Roland flushed. “To you, I’m afraid.” He took a deep breath. “She lied, Stavros. Giorgio made no such demands about barring you from his funeral.” Tears started running down the older man’s face, but he made no move to wipe them away. “He had long regretted his selfishness, his inability to be your father, but he had felt it was too late. All the years we were together, he had wanted to see you, but he was...too proud.”
Roland looked at him, and Stavros understood. Even as he reeled from the revelations, he managed to say, “Like father, like son.”
Roland smiled. “Yes.” He cried harder. “Yes. He loved you from afar, Stavros. He loved you with all his heart, and he was so proud of you.” He reached for the velvet box next to him and presented it to Stavros. “He wrote you letters every day. The therapist he was seeing told him it was to give him comfort but even if she hadn’t said it, I think he would have eventually done this.”
Stavros slowly reached for the box and as its weight rested on his hands, it was like shedding the burden of his past from his shoulders.
“I tried to get him to see you, but he said he was afraid he’d ruin your life again.” Roland stood up. “If you have any questions about your father, please just call me. I’ll be happy to share...” He choked. “He just loved you very much.”
For a long time, Stavros only sat there, unable to move. Fear locked him in place, a small part of him reverting back to the child that he had been. The knowledge that his parents were not what he thought them to be had almost killed him.
If this was all an elaborate plank, he didn’t think he would ever be the same again.
More moments passed until he finally made himself move. He opened the box and dozens of letters tumbled out.
He reached for the one on the top.
Dear Stavros,
I know this letter will take you by surprise, but I cannot keep silent any longer. Every day I wake up with regret, wishing I could turn back time so I could be the father you deserve to have.
Dear Stavros,
Congratulations on your acquisition of the Dutch bank. That was a huge coup and you wouldn’t know it, but I threw a party in your honor.
Dear Stavros,
I heard that your mother has been bothering you. She is an unhappy woman and you must not pay attention to her. Do not let her drag you down. You are our greatest miracle...
Dear Stavros,
Are the rumors true? You are seeing your own secretary? I confess to being shocked when I learned what kind of woman she was. And no, I am not being a snob about it. I am not talking about her background. Rather, I am talking about her personality. She is rather outspoken, your opposite, don’t you think? But I think she will do you good. I truly believe that. She will help you unbend and perhaps teach you a thing or two about trust and love – lessons that I know your mother and I have failed to teach you by example.
Dear Stavros,
I’ve been writing to you more than once a day now. Forgive me. I know my time is near and I want to write as many things as I can remember while I am still able to. I have a feeling that you’ll soon have your own child, and I’d like to impart a few lessons about child-rearing that I learned on my own.
I wasn’t a perfect father and I will never have a chance to be. I always put my own needs first, and in that aspect I do not think I have changed enough. But Stavros, I never wished you gone from my life. I never wished you to be hurt.
The letters seemed endless, but for Stavros they weren’t enough. He read them all and finished well into morning the next day. The bitterness that had long festered inside him, shadows of the past that haunted his every step – they had gradually disappeared with every letter he read until the world that had once been so black and white became gray.
So many questions still unanswered, but this time they were not the questions that would make him keep hating himself.
His mind drifted to Edith, and for once in his life, there was not the smallest amount of resentment or pain that lingered inside him. The life that she led now was already his mother’s punishment, and it would be empty until the day she died.
As he gathered the letters and placed them back in the box, his heart started to open. Wider and wider, allowing all the other feelings that came with love. He had once though that true love could exist on its own, but his father’s letters showed him differently. Love could not exist without vulnerabilities. Without pain. Without mistakes. Without forgiveness.
When he stood up, his heart was free. It loved. His father. Himself. And...Willow.
And as soon as he thought of her name, Stavros knew.
He just knew.
When he entered Willem’s office, the Dutch billionaire did not appear surprised at all to see him. It was as if he had only been waiting for Stavros to get his head out of his ass.
“I’m going after her. She’s mine. You’re not to look at her, speak of her, or even think of her.”
He didn’t give a damn about what had transpired between Willem and Willow. Whatever it was, it was nothing compared to how he would be able to love Willow – if she gave him the chance to do so.
In response, Willem nodded at his intern.
Serenity came to stand next to Willem’s table and said in a small voice, “I apologize for misleading you, Mr. Manolis. She really had been in his suite only for a few minutes, and it really was to look at the royal albums, which, per the Queen’s rules, could only be viewed in the north wing.”
Stavros nodded. “Thank you for telling me that, Serenity, and thank you for looking after Willow.” He turned to Willem. “Fuck you for interfering.”
Willem laughed. When his friend turned back and started to walk away, he called out, “Aren’t you forgetting to ask me something?”
“I don’t need to ask anything. I already know what I have to know.”
The door slammed shut behind Stavros.
Chapter Eleven
It was a rainy afternoon when he arrived in Florida, and the drizzle had worsened into a thunderstorm by the time he was ushered inside Damen Lev
entis’ home. The billionaire was there to receive him personally, standing up to shake hands with him.
“Stavros.”
“Damen.”
They looked at each other, both handsome and powerful Greeks. But while one appeared bland, the other had a haggard look to his face, as if he had run to the ends of the earth with the hope of finding the most precious thing in his life.
Stavros asked curtly, “Where is she?” He neither had the time nor the patience for small talk.
The lapse of etiquette, which was rare for his friend, made Damen suppress a smile. “Mairi’s up with Nala in the nursery. Would you like—”
“Enough with the games,” Stavros interrupted tautly. “Where is Willow?”
“Why would you think I’d know where she is?” Even knowing that Stavros was close to hitting him, Damen refused to make it that easy for his friend. He had learned from his wife the pain that Willow had gone through, and this time Damen wanted to make sure for himself that Stavros wouldn’t hurt her again.
For a moment, Stavros seriously contemplated beating the truth out of Damen. But Damen’s face only remained bland even as the taunting gleam in his eyes challenged Stavros to do exactly what he was thinking.
In the end, Stavros decided against going head to head with the other billionaire, but only because he knew it would take too much time. “I know you know, Leventis, because we both know how Willow’s mind works. If she’s determined to make me eat humble pie, she’s going to make sure it’s the worst-tasting pie in the world.”
“And the worst pie would be me?”
His jaw clenched.
Damen laughed. “I don’t fucking believe it. You thought there was something that went on between us in the past?”
“You could have flirted with her, because of my history with Mairi.”