by Marian Tee
She went to his side of the table and grabbed his glass of water. She threw it at him, but he still didn’t speak, and his silence continued to tear her apart.
Security burst inside the room, good old Nilo at the fore. But when he saw what had happened, he shook his head and made everyone leave. This was one fight his services as a bodyguard wouldn’t be any kind of help.
Face dripping wet with water and God knew what else, Stavros watched Willow look about her wildly, clearly searching for something – anything – to throw at him. His clothes were a wet sticky mess, but he didn’t give a fuck. What did matter was the way Willow was slowly turning to him now---
“I’m all out,” Willow heard herself say stupidly before she started to cry.
Drowning, he was so goddamn close to drowning, and the only way to stop him from sinking was to get the hell out of the place and leave her. But he couldn’t. Not with her looking at him like that.
No more, no more, Stavros thought grimly. He was damned if he was going to hurt her again.
“I’m sorry.” The words were ripped out of him.
Hearing the motherfucker say the words only made Willow want to scream. Howl. Disappear. Did he know – did he goddamn know how it was for her, realizing that even though she was hurting more than ever now, she had also never felt so alive and it was because of him?
“Why are you here?” She spoke through bloodless lips, and it took every bit of her willpower just to keep her voice from shaking.
An indescribable mix of emotions struck Stavros as he gazed at Willow, with her head bent, her shoulders stiff, and her body trembling. He looked at her and he knew he was hurting her. He looked at her and he knew this was killing her, too.
But even knowing that, he couldn’t make himself go.
“I don’t know.” It was the fucking truth, and this time he wanted her to know the truth. After everything, she deserved it. “I wish I goddamn knew, but even now, I don’t know what I fucking want from you.” His voice was toneless. “I don’t even know if I want you as my woman---” Stavros saw her flinch, and his fists clenched more tightly. Goddammit, why? Why weren’t there were any words he could say that wouldn’t hurt her?
“I didn’t ask you to come back!” This time, Willow couldn’t stop her voice from shaking. Somewhere inside her, the familiar sound of a jackhammer started. Somewhere inside her, she was starting to break again.
It was Stavros’ turn to flinch, the truth in her words undeniable. He gritted out, “I know that---”
“Then why are you here?” She screamed the words out. She couldn’t help it.
“I told you, I don’t know.” His voice matched her tone and volume.
Both of them stared at each other, both of them breathing hard.
The pain in Willow’s eyes made him want to smash something in pieces. “I know,” he heard himself say savagely, “I know I’m fucking your life up again. I know I’m the most selfish bastard on Earth for what I have to say, but I want you with me again.”
Willow laughed and cried at the same time, his words turning her world upside down. “You don’t want me as your woman---”
“I said I didn’t know---”
“Whatever, motherfucker!” Willow furiously wiped the tears away from her eyes, but it was no use, the ones she had dried quickly replaced by new tears. “You don’t get it, do you? What you’re asking of me?”
He said tautly, “I know I’ve hurt you---”
“It’s just not hurt.” Oh God, he thought she was just ‘hurt’. A jackhammer digging a fucking sinkhole in her heart? That wasn’t just hurt. She shook her head, wishing she could rip her chest open so he would know hurt didn’t cover it. Not one damn bit.
She raised her gaze to him. “Do you know,” she whispered brokenly, “that right now, I can’t even make myself think of your name? Much less say it?” A crazy-sounding laugh escaped Willow. “That’s how much power you have over me. That’s how much you...”
The sound of Willow’s voice catching, the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, made Stavros’ face turn ashen.
“That’s how much you matter to the woman you don’t want.”
* * *
That night, Stavros studied his collection of ties for a full half-minute before selecting a silver grey one. As he wound it around his neck and knotted it with precision and practiced expertise, his mind drifted, and before he knew it, his reflection was no longer what he could see in the full-length mirror in front of him.
Instead, he saw her.
Willow.
Walking away from him, the door closing behind her even as her words stayed like fucking pieces of shrapnel lodged inside his heart.
Stavros reached for his emerald-studded cuffs, his movements mechanical.
Willow.
The one woman in the world he should stay away from…but couldn’t.
Whipping around in grim self-loathing, Stavros stalked out of his room. In moments, he was stepping inside his limousine, on his way to a book launch that he had no fucking qualms about gatecrashing.
Willow.
He had to make it up to her because now he knew.
Willow.
The woman he hadn’t hurt.
A spasm struck his chest and his throat locked, restricting his breathing.
Willow.
She was right. He knew it now. He hadn’t hurt her because hurt wasn’t fucking enough to describe how he had destroyed her.
The knowledge weighed him down.
Willow.
So fucking close now, so fucking close to drowning.
Chapter Three
In case I haven’t thanked you – let me do it now.
Thank you. Thank you for never throwing it at my face, every time I make you leave…only to end up running after you.
Love, Your Greek Billionaire
For the launch of Greek Mythology in the Eyes of IT Girls, the ruins of Hadrian’s Library – built in AD 132 – had been resurrected to its former glory.
A 1,000-square-meter tent had been erected on the site, with old-fashioned chandeliers dangling from its blazingly white domed ceilings. On one side were twenty-foot-tall purple curtains, serving as a backdrop for the panel. Adjacent to it were enormous molded doors, patterned also after Ancient Greek architecture, and with a red carpet rolled out to welcome the guests.
Once inside, the first thing they would see was a magnificent display of floor-to-ceiling shelves, put up for the night between Corinthian pillars that had withstood the greatest tests of time. More impressive was the fact that each and every row was filled with brand new, plastic-covered copies of the book, attesting to Hamnet’s belief---
SNAP!
Shania Somerset-Fotilas’ fingers snapping in front of her face had Willow flushing as she was caught red-handed – or red-faced rather – daydreaming while she was being subjected to an extremely public dressing down.
“Will you please pay attention? I don’t want you making the same mistake again.” Her aunt’s shrill voice rang throughout the control room, which was sectioned off from the rest of the venue with a glass wall and located behind the curtains. It was where everything behind-the-scenes took place, and that included her aunt’s favorite hobby: giving her only niece a piece of her mind before letting Willow do all the work and then taking all the credit for herself.
“You are such an idiot…”
In her mind, the words echoed, but they didn’t come from her aunt. Instead, it was him, the motherfucker, gorgeous as ever, his beautiful mouth moving ever so slowly as he spoke. You are such an idiot.
Willow made a face. Yes, motherfucker, I know I’m stupid to have fallen in love with---
“Are you making faces?”
Shiiiiiiiit.
“No, Aunt, I---”
“I don’t believe you! It’s just what I expect from someone who came from that harlot!”
Willow’s teeth gnashed. Her mother was not a harlot. Her mother was depressed and psychot
ic, but she was not a harlot. There was a difference. But out loud, she said stiltedly, “I’m sorry, Aunt.” They were the only words she could say to appease her aunt, the only way to avoid potentially ruining tonight’s launch.
“Your apology’s not enough, and your stupidity stands to ruin everything. If something bad happens, I’m going to hold you responsible, mark my words!”
Even as the maligning continued, it just wasn’t enough to keep her mind off the motherfucker. Shiiiiiiit. She really didn’t want to think of him. She shouldn’t think of him. She fell in love, the motherfucker broke her heart, and that was that.
But even as she knew every one of those words were true, why then did the hole in her heart keep growing?
Willow desperately fixed her gaze on her aunt. For tonight’s special event, Shania had dressed up, her one-shoulder gown weighed down by the numerous pearls sewn on its bodice. Clearly, abysmal tastes of fashion ran in their family, Willow thought, but at least she was honest enough to accept it.
“Your father will hear of this…” As the ranting went on and on, Willow’s mind drifted back to the press release copy she had been drafting earlier. This shouldn’t be considered daydreaming, right? She was just making better use of her time.
“---are you listening to me?”
Willow jerked to attention, along with the rest of the staff inside the control room. It was a well-known fact in Hamnet that the company’s VP demanded everyone’s attention when she was in one of her “lecturing” moods.
Shiiiiiiiit. Caught again. Willow raised guilty eyes to her aunt, hoping the older woman wouldn’t see through her, but it wasn’t to be.
“How dare you disrespect me this way?” Shania’s gaze raked over her niece’s form from head to toe. From the first day she had met this little slut, Shania had known Willow would stand in her son’s way of becoming Hamnet’s next CEO.
Since then, she had done everything she could to discredit her brother’s precious child, but for every instance Willow messed up, the brat would follow it up with something spectacular – enough to keep her ass from getting fired.
But not tonight, Shania thought determinedly. Tonight, she had a plan to put her son in the spotlight, and thanks to her stupid little niece, that plan had just gotten its foothold.
Willow’s cheeks heated as her aunt’s gaze lingered on her DIY fascinator, a huge-ass honest-to-goodness peacock feather she had bought off eBay.
“Peacock palette, Willow,” Shania sneered. “Peacock palette. Two simple words and you managed to misunderstand the dress code? How can you call yourself an editor?”
Willow winced. “Sorry, Aunt.” It was her twentieth apology for the night, but knowing the other woman, she would have to do it fifty more times before Shania would find herself bored of shaming Willow in front of other people. “When I read the word ‘peacock’ on the invitation, I just assumed you wanted us to come dressed like peacocks.”
Her aunt let out a gasp of outrage. “Why would you even think that?”
Because, Willow answered in her mind, you’re the same person who thought it would be ‘cute’ to have the staff dress up like Nazis for the launch of a WWII veteran’s autobiography. If she could think that up, the idea of having guests show up in peacock costumes wasn’t far off.
The scathing words were at the tip of her tongue, but she managed to swallow them back at the last second. “I’m sorry again, Aunt.” Twenty-one down, forty-nine to go.
“Can’t you take it off?” Even before she was done speaking, Shania had already stalked towards her and tried to pull the fascinator off.
Shiiiiiiiit.
“Owwww! Stop, Aunt, no---!”
Shania tugged harder. “Why can’t I---”
“Because I glued it to my scalp!” Willow stumbled back as she managed to yank the feather out of her aunt’s grip.
“WHAT?”
Willow winced again. “I was worried it would fall off and I didn’t want to be bothered having to check it all the time so…this.”
“You idiot!”
Ouch. But she didn’t say anything because it was true. It was an idiotic thing to do, and it was all because the motherfucker had messed her up so much.
“I can’t let you go out dressed like that. We’ll be the laughingstock of the entire city if I did.”
Too late, Aunt, Willow thought. I became that the moment I thought I was someone the motherfucker could love.
“---you agree it’s the right thing to do, don’t you?”
Shiiiiiit. Not wanting to admit she hadn’t heard a word Shania said, she nodded immediately. “Yes, Aunt.”
Shania was shocked. She had expected Willow to argue, but… “Very well then.” She started backing towards the direction of the door. “I’m glad you can see reason. I expect you to do your part without fail.” She hurried away before her niece could change her mind, slamming the door shut behind her.
Willow blinked. What the hell had just happened?
Everyone around her was suddenly groaning.
“Why did you say yes?” her newly hired gay assistant, Eric, moaned out loud.
“I’m…not exactly sure what I said ‘yes’ to,” Willow admitted.
More groans and moans.
“Are you serious?” a fellow editor shrieked. “VBitch said that Warner’s going to take your place in the panel, and you agreed to feed him his lines!”
“You are also not to show your face outside until the event’s over and the last guest has left,” one of the company’s interns added.
“You also agreed to---”
Willow raised her hand. “I get the picture.”
Eric looked at her like she was crazy. “What is wrong with you?”
What was wrong with her? She had met the motherfucker this morning and it had messed her up completely. That was what was wrong with her. A shallow reason, a shameful reason, and she didn’t want to talk about it at all because she knew it wasn’t reason enough to mess up tonight’s launch.
“You have got to go out there and tell VBitch that you’ve changed your mind,” Eric insisted. “This is your baby, you worked so damn hard for it, and it’s not fair that---”
“Hush!” Willow’s cellphone had started to ring, and she saw on the display that it was her father calling. She glared at Eric to silence him before answering the phone. “Good evening, Father. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”
“What I’m supposed to be,” William grumbled, “is there and not here.”
Even though the answer had her rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help smiling either. Stubborn workaholic. But she couldn’t really blame him since she was her father’s daughter, too.
“You’re just going to get everyone sick if you come here,” she told him reasonably. While the bug William had contracted wasn’t serious, it was contagious.
“And that’s the only reason why I stayed behind.” William’s tone was still irked.
“Then please accept my thanks on behalf of the guests,” she replied dryly. In front of her, Eric pointed at his watch and held seven fingers up. Seven minutes until the interview.
Willow flashed him a thumbs-up sign. Got it. Pulling out her Bluetooth earpiece, she clipped it to her ear and slid her phone back into her pocket as she asked, “Anything you need, Father?”
“You still haven’t sent me photos of the event.”
“One of the interns is live-tweeting the launch on our company account,” Willow hedged as she walked to the control board, which had all the buttons and knobs controlling everything from lighting to air-conditioning.
“I saw those, but there aren’t any photos of you.”
Beside her, Eric mouthed, Tell him about the VBitch.
Shut up, she mouthed back.
“Willow?”
She cleared her throat. “Umm, sorry, it’s just that I’ve been so busy I couldn’t stay still long enough for the photographer.” Bending down, she switched the displays on, which allowed everyone in the co
ntrol room to see what was happening beyond the curtains.
The screens lit up, revealing the authors - four socialites who possessed the rare combination of wit and beauty – as they took their seats.
Willow shook her head when she saw Shania bully her way to the stage, forcing the authors to squeeze to one side as Willow’s aunt joined them on the couch.
“Where are you right now? The launch’s about to start, right?”
“In the control room.” Before William could ask why, she hurried to add, “You know how OC I am. I need to do a final check on everything. Wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves in front of a full house.”
“That many came, eh?”
“More than either of us expected.”
Her father released a rare happy sigh. “I’m glad to hear that.” A pause before her father spoke in a gruff voice. “I can’t thank you enough for putting all this together for the company. If not for you, everything would have been a complete disaster, with that idiot event stylist bailing out on us at the last minute.”
The hole in Willow’s heart got the tiniest bit smaller at the words. It had been so long since she had heard her father say something nice about her work - something Willow knew wasn’t her father’s fault. “It was…my pleasure.”
Silence.
Finally, William said, “That was unbelievably polite of you, my dear.”
“Just trying to be the perfect daughter,” she quipped.
“You don’t have to be, you know. I’m proud of you, Willow. I’ve always been proud of you.”
Willow was so stunned at the words that for a moment, she wondered if she was still talking to her father.
“I mean it.”
Yes. That was her father’s voice, all right. Her eyes started to sting, and she quickly squeezed them shut. Shiiiiit. This was almost as bad as reminiscing about the motherfucker. Why are you saying this now, Father? Why?