Love, Your Greek Billionaire

by Marian Tee

  * * *

  Stavros was different. She knew it the moment she and the kids came back to the nursery. Sure, he smiled and kept her close to him like he had earlier, but she knew with every beat of her heart that something had changed.

  Stavros was different, and nothing was more obvious than the moment they were back inside his limousine and Stavros had no audience to pretend in front of. The moment he withdrew to himself, she knew it. She looked at Stavros’ beautiful impassive face, and another thing she knew was there was no stopping it, no way to keep him from shutting her out of his heart.

  “Stavros.” Her voice had just the slightest tremor, but even so, she was shamed by it and she hated herself for it. Why? Why am I always so weak?

  When Stavros looked at her, she didn’t see any point in beating around the bush. “What did Kyrillos Gazis tell you?”

  She saw by the way his body stiffened that he was stunned by her words, and it hurt that he was so. Somewhere inside her, a jackhammer started drilling holes in her heart again. When? When would you understand, Stavros? When would you understand that I know you because I love you?

  Every second which passed without him speaking, every second that passed without him looking at her – every second of it hurt. “I researched about you too, you know. Not because I wanted to make a book out of your story, but because I just…I just wanted to know you.”

  She took a deep breath. “And I thought you would have me meet your mother. Or the solicitor who acted as your legal guardian. Or even your therapist.”

  Willow could see every revelation was a surprise to him – one he rejected because, clearly, he didn’t want her to know those things about him. Why?

  “I really thought it would be one of them today so when it turned out to be Kyrillos, I was…confused and shocked. Why Kyrillos? When I saw you two together, I knew that he was a good friend of yours and t-that it was a friendship neither of you allowed just anyone to know about.”

  She took a deep breath. “But…I think…I feel…especially now, I know it’s just not that.”

  Stavros still hadn’t turned to face her.

  Willow swallowed. “You also made me meet him because I think…I think you wanted to hear Kyr tell you that I could be good for you. Didn’t you?” When he didn’t answer, her voice rose, her emotions suddenly bursting all over the place. “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Stavros’ voice was harsh as he whipped around on his seat to face her, cold fury glittering in his dark eyes. “Yes.” He was shouting back at her. “I wanted Kyr to tell me that it could work between us because it had worked for him and Anna, but it hadn’t. It didn’t fucking work for them and since we’re both more fucked up, then how could---”

  She shook her head, crying out, “They’re different from us---”

  “That’s not the fucking point!”

  Willow flinched as Stavros’ fist slammed down the door handle.

  “I’m not good for you,” he roared. “How many times do I have to say that?” She was crying now, and Stavros wanted to kill himself for it. “I know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know there’s no woman I could ever want more, but it’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough.”

  “Stavros.” She was crying, pleading. How could his words be so beautiful and terrible at the same time?

  “I don’t want to hurt you more than I’ve already hurt you---”

  But even as she cried harder, she was shaking her head at him, and he knew what it meant.

  No matter how many times he said it, they wouldn’t make any difference.

  “Why?” Stavros’ voice was ravaged. “Why won’t you get out of my life? Why?”

  The question tore at her because she knew what he couldn’t seem to make himself ask, and she cried, knowing that she couldn’t answer it until he did ask.

  They didn’t speak after that, but when they reached her house, she knew she couldn’t leave it like that between them.

  Behind her, Stavros was already walking away.

  Her hand stilling on the doorknob, she turned around and called out to him. “Stavros.” The desperate catch in her voice made Willow want to cry again.

  He stilled.

  “Earlier,” she whispered, “y-you asked me when I’d go.” Choking back a sob, she said, “I’ll tell you now.” Wiping the tears from her eyes, she said tremulously, “I’ll go when you stop hurting.”

  Stavros whitened at the words.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Willow---” But when he turned around, it was too late, and the last thing he saw was Willow pressing her hand to her mouth, trying to keep her sobs down as she closed the door.

  Chapter Eight

  I won’t lie. There are scars that may never heal, even with you loving me. But that’s not the point. I realize it’s enough I’ve survived the scars so I can be with you.

  Love, Your Greek Billionaire

  Dear Miss Somerset,

  It is with not so sincere regret that I would have to turn down your proposal on writing a book about my story. It is not as fascinating as you think it is.

  On another note, I would like to extend my gratitude and appreciation for your discretion regarding my family. Rest assured that if anyone I know has a need of your skills, you shall be the first person I’ll contact.

  Your friend,

  Kyrillos Gazis

  Dear Miss Somerset,

  Greetings from the Royal Palace of Contini!

  On behalf of the office of Sir Willem de Konigh, I would like to let you know that your proposal for an autobiography on the royal family has been favorably met.

  As the royal family wishes to speak with you in person regarding the proposed project, we respectfully request your presence during the Queen’s birthday. Details of the event are provided with the invitation attached to this letter, but one shall also be sent to your place of employment by our official courier.

  If the dates provided are amenable, please do let us know and we shall make arrangements for your flight and accommodations right away.

  Again, congratulations, Ms. Somerset, and we look forward to your response.

  Sincerely,

  Vivien Wakefield

  Executive Assistant

  De Konigh Enterprises

  After reading the email, Willow didn’t even hesitate. She clicked refresh, again and again, but nothing changed. There was still no email, no message – no anything from Stavros.

  She stared at her monitor unseeingly. She should be happy right now, she knew. She had gotten Willem de Konigh to say yes to her proposal, and she had done it all on her own. The man had her jumping through a thousand hoops and practically walking on burning coals in terms of research, but Willow hadn’t even batted an eyelash. She had just gritted her teeth, done what she could, and now all her hard work had paid off.

  So why wasn’t she happy?

  Why?

  Before she could think of what she was doing, she was already reaching for her phone and sending a message to Stavros.

  Willow: I know what I want for Day 4.

  His reply came reassuringly quick. She wanted to think it was because he had missed her, but she feared it was because he just wanted to be done with her.

  Stavros: What is it?

  Willow: I want your promise that you’ll see this to the end.

  Stavros: As long as it’s within reason.

  Willow: It is. For tomorrow, I want us to meet your mother together.

  * * *

  The hotel lounge was fully packed at nine in the evening, the guests either still enjoying dinner or having a drink with friends and dates. Live violin music played beautifully in the background, but Willow couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to clap her hands with the rest of the audience.

  Nerves fraught with tension, she ordered a second cup of coffee while waiting for Stavros to arrive. When it was served, she was dismayed to find her hands shaking, hard enough to have a few drops of steaming hot liqui
d spilling out and scalding her skin.

  “Shit.” Willow hastily set the cup down, her careless, jerky movements causing more coffee to spill on her hand. Before she could look for a tissue, a shadow fell over her.

  “Allow me.”

  Willow froze at the familiar voice and, not a second later, Stavros had come to claim the seat opposite her and was reaching for Willow’s stinging hand with a silk handkerchief.

  She could only watch as Stavros gently tended to her hand. His attention was completely focused on her ever so minor injury, but there was nothing on his handsome face to give Willow a clue about what he was thinking or feeling.

  Before long, Stavros’ intimidating presence and orders had the staff at the hotel lounge in a tizzy, one waiter running to give them a bucket of ice, while another nearly stumbled as he held out a first-aid kit to the billionaire. But what had Willow recovering from her bemused shock was when even the hotel’s on-duty doctor had been called to check her hand.

  “Stavros.” Her face was all shades of red as she tried to tug her hand out of his hold. “You’re overreacting---”

  Stavros didn’t let go, but his gaze didn’t meet hers when he answered quietly, “Nothing’s overkill where you’re concerned.”

  Willow would have laughed outright if he hadn’t sounded absolutely serious. But because Stavros had sounded like he meant it, she could only look at him, loving and hurting at the same time.

  A hundred words, a thousand, begged to be said---

  Why won’t you look at me?

  Why won’t you tell me what you’re thinking?

  Why won’t you let me in?

  But as Stavros gently held her hand up for the doctor’s inspection, still not meeting her eyes, Willow swallowed them all back.

  “Nothing serious here,” the doctor finally said even as he applied ointment to her skin, the affected parts already turning an angry shade of pink.

  After, Stavros said, “I apologize for being late.”

  She shook her head. “You know you’re not late. I just came early…”

  When her voice trailed off, Stavros filled the silence, asking, “Why do you want to meet with my mother?”

  This time, it was Willow who had a hard time meeting his gaze. “Because I thought…” She looked down, watched the way her fingers curled into fists on her lap. “Because I’m worried that it’s your mother’s opinion of me that’s making you…” Her fingers curled more tightly. “I just want to prove to her that I’m not with you for the money---”

  Stavros cut her off, asking tautly, “If I tell you it’s not because of her, would you believe me?”

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  “Then there’s nothing to say, is there?”

  The bitterness in his voice made Willow’s head jerk up. “Stavros---”

  But he had already stood up. “Shall we then? I believe she’s already at the restaurant.” Stavros offered Willow his hand.

  Craning her neck because he felt a lot taller than he was when she was still seated, Willow gazed at Stavros’ face searchingly, hoping for a clue as to how he truly felt. But try as she might, she could glean nothing from his expression. All she knew was that she was starting to have a bad feeling about everything, a nauseating sensation stirring in the pit of her stomach that had her thinking twice about meeting Edith Manolis.

  Taking a deep breath, she told herself she was just being silly and slowly placed her hand in Stavros’---

  Her eyes widened, and her legs shook a little under her as she came to her feet. His hand was so damn cold, and the realization had her feeling even more nauseated.

  This wasn’t normal. Something was so badly wrong about everything…but what?

  “Stavros.” Her voice trailed off when she couldn’t find the right words to express her anxiety.

  Stavros arched a brow at her. What is it?

  Willow could only look at him. Tell me. Tell me you don’t want to do this and we won’t.

  But he didn’t.

  * * *

  Memories didn’t do Edith justice. It was the first thought that flitted over her mind as Stavros made the introductions, giving Willow just enough time to study his mother.

  With a choker of pearls around her neck and dressed in Chanel from head to toe, Edith looked every inch a billionaire’s mother and appeared right at home in the VIP room of the hotel’s penthouse restaurant. She was beautiful in a spectacularly sultry way, her allure the kind that even the most expert photographer would be hard-pressed to capture in pictures.

  All in all, Willow could easily see how the woman had turned Stavros’ father’s head around even though prior to Edith, Giorgio Manolis had only been known to date socialites of equal standing.

  Another thing she noticed was how stiff her own son was as Edith asked Stavros to bend down so she could kiss him on the cheek. Why? Willow had done her best to research about his parents’ divorce and the proceedings about his custody as a child, but she had been unable to unearth anything.

  “Willow, my dear.” The words almost had her gaping. She had expected everything from snobbery to contempt, but instead Stavros’ mother had tears in her eyes. “Can you forgive an old woman for her unkind words?”

  “I…I…of course,” she stammered just before she found herself enveloped in a perfumed embrace.

  “Thank you so much.” Edith’s voice was as shaky as her smile. “My son and I rarely see eye to eye but when I learned that it’s all because of you we’re able to enjoy a meal together after so many years…” She stopped speaking, visibly struggling to keep her emotions in check. “I just knew I was wrong about you.”

  Once they were seated, the rest of the meal proved to be enjoyable, more so than she had ever dared to imagine, with Edith entertaining her nonstop with stories about Stavros’ childhood. Every story ended with a young Stavros doing something adorably sweet for his parents, such as when he had climbed a tree in their garden just to give his sick mother a freshly picked apple or the time a young and flu-stricken Stavros had forced himself to stay up late, waiting for his father to come home from a delayed flight.

  The stories were meant to warm the heart so why, oh God, why couldn’t she shake off the nausea? Why couldn’t she stop thinking that everything was so damn wrong?

  As their plates were taken away, to be replaced shortly by dessert, Willow’s gaze strayed to Stavros. Maybe, she thought worriedly, it was because Stavros hadn’t said a single word throughout the meal. Maybe he hated having his hand forced? Maybe he didn’t want to be bothered to introduce to his mother a woman he was determined to kick out of his life for good?

  None of it made sense.

  All she knew was that because of what she had asked for today, Stavros’ gaze was completely empty, and it hurt. Every time his mother shared another story, his face would tighten, and more emotions were being leeched from his eyes.

  By the time coffee was served, Willow could no longer bear it. She jumped to her feet, and just like her usual clumsy self, she almost overturned the table in her haste. This time, though, she wasn’t bothered at all. All she knew was that she had to get Stavros out of this room as soon as possible.

  “I’m s-sorry,” Willow stammered. “But I just received a text about an emergency and I need to have Stavros drive me---”

  Edith raised a brow.

  Willow flinched.

  The mannerisms that both mother and son shared should have been cute, but somehow, it felt…wrong.

  Stavros’ mother leaned back against her chair. “A text, my dear? You haven’t taken your phone out at all.”

  “I…” She looked at Stavros, and her heart started to break at the expressionless mask that had fallen over his handsome face. Oh God, what had she done?

  “Stavros, can we please just go?”

  Her words made him jerk, and he turned to her as if he had only realized she was there.

  More pieces of her heart shattered at the look on Stavros’ face. She had nev
er, oh God, she had never thought she would see Stavros look this vulnerable. She didn’t understand why he felt this way in his own mother’s presence, and she didn’t give a damn. All she knew was that she had to get Stavros away from here. Right this damn minute.

  She took hold of his hand, and she wanted to cry when she felt how cold and clammy it felt to her touch. “Stavros, can we please---”

  From the head of the table, Edith started to laugh. “And just when I thought this would be such a boring affair, you’ve proven me wrong again. Now I know, you are not to be underestimated.”

  Willow didn’t even look at Edith, her gaze focused on Stavros. “Let’s go, Stavros. Please.”

  Slowly, Stavros started to stand---

  In a mockingly sweet voice, Edith asked, “Do you know he paid me one million dollars just to pretend all’s good and well between us?”

  Willow paled.

  “And my son, my disgustingly honorable son, he thought he could stand such a lie. I didn’t think so, and I was right.”

  Edith laughed again, and this time, Willow’s skin crawled. This time, she knew. Everything about Edith was a lie, and making Stavros meet with his mother might possibly be the biggest mistake she had ever done.

  “That’s why he’s been oh so quiet, my dear,” Edith sneered. “His conscience couldn’t stand the lie. He was torn between coming clean, which was the right thing to do, and his pride, which didn’t want you to know the truth.”

  Willow shook her head. “I don’t care about the truth---”

  “Ah, but I want you to,” Edith interrupted with relish. “I already have my son’s payment in my account, and I know he’s too honorable to take it back---”

  “I said I don’t want to hear it,” Willow snapped. Turning to Stavros’ mother, she demanded, “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you see that---” Suddenly, she couldn’t make herself say the words.

  “Oh no.” A look of sham sympathy crossed Edith’s face. “You’re like him, too, aren’t you? Honorable and sensitive to a fault? You’ve realized the truth, haven’t you? And now you can’t bear to say it because you’re terrified it would hurt him more?”