by Marian Tee
Only when Willow heard the bedroom door close did she sink down to her knees and sob. She knew it was crazy, but the terror was there, monstrous, evil, and lurking in the dark, waiting for the optimal moment to strike.
She was so damn scared that even in death, Giorgio Manolis would still find a way to wound his own son.
Be safe, Stavros. Be safe.
* * *
As Stavros boarded the copter that would fly him to the island where his father was being laid to rest, he felt the drowning sensation receding, fading with every mile that separated him from Willow.
A few minutes later it was completely gone, leaving Stavros defenseless.
His lips twisted at the thought, but he knew it was the fucking truth.
If he wasn’t drowning, he was dead.
Like now.
Inescapable memories assaulted him, mocked him, and this time, there was no Willow – no beautiful, tactless, foul-mouthed Willow to buffer them and kick them back into the shadows.
Giorgio sending him birthday cards every damn year, even when Stavros had already known the truth about his parents…
Giorgio beaming with pride as he came up the stage to receive an excellence award for a thirteen-year-old Stavros…
Giorgio pretending Stavros was heavy as he carried him up in his arms…before tossing him up in the air just to make his son chortle with laughter…
Had all those been a fucking lie?
He knew he had to think it was.
But because of Willow…because no matter how many times he hurt her and shoved her away, because she wouldn’t just go…she made him think it wasn’t all a lie. That maybe, even just one of those memories was real. That maybe, there was one day in his father’s entire life…one minute…one second that Giorgio had loved his son.
One second was enough.
He could forgive everything for that one second.
Or at least Stavros thought so until he arrived at the island and found an entire lineup of private security barring his way to the main house.
“Stop!”
Sheer puzzlement had Stavros stopping at the foot of the carved steps leading up to the hilltop mansion Giorgio had been living in for over a decade with his lover.
“Is there a problem?” He was forced to ask this himself since Stavros had opted to pay his respects alone, against the express wishes of his own security. Around them, other guests were able to move forward, throwing curious glances at Stavros as they did.
One of the guards stepped forward. In an overly loud voice, he told Stavros, “It’s the express wish of your late father that you are to be banned from attending his funeral.” He smirked. “You know what’s funny, though? His last wishes also include his favorite pets having front row seats, all plush and comfy. Guess that makes you lower than a dog, doesn’t it?”
Ah.
Stavros could feel the blood leaving his face. He could hear people gasping, could feel their pity even when they hadn’t spoken a word.
Finally, he looked at the man who had taken such pleasure in shaming him, and he said with frigid politeness, “I understand.”
The whole security team laughed as he walked away, and the taunts soon followed.
“You can’t have everything, Mr. Billionaire! You may have the women, but your own Papa doesn’t give a shit about you!”
“Boo-hoo-hoo, maybe you ain’t enough of a bitch like ‘em pets, and that’s why you’re not allowed inside. Lemme bitch slap you, and we might just give you a peek at the coffin.”
Stavros heard them all, but not for one second did he even consider to react.
Everything they said, all of it was simply human nature at work.
In the end, they were not to blame.
In the end, everything they said couldn’t have been said in the first place if Stavros’ own father hadn’t given them the ammunition they needed.
As Stavros flew back to Athens, he only had one thought in his mind.
Please let her not know.
That was all he asked.
A fucking shred of dignity left to him. That was all he fucking asked.
But when he came back to his place and saw Willow’s tears streaking down her face, he knew his one prayer to God – one fucking prayer in his entire life – hadn’t been answered.
Why?
Why?
Just one time, I asked You just one fucking time – why can’t You give it to me?
“Stavros.”
He jerked at the sound of her voice, shame burning him alive. “Don’t you fucking pity---”
“Stavros, I---”
“I can hear it in your voice,” he snarled.
Willow began to weep. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what, Stavros thought savagely. Sorry she couldn’t stop pitying him? Sorry she couldn’t see him the same way any longer?
“How did you know?” He had to ask. It was a private affair, a fucking by-invitation-only affair.
When Willow could only look at him, her hands pressed to her mouth in a futile effort to stop crying, a humorless laugh escaped him. “Do you know that it’s a private affair? A fucking by-invitation-only affair, and I thought…” He shook his head. “Because I was his son---”
She couldn’t bear it any longer. “Stavros, please.” She took a step forward towards him.
Stavros looked at her. “No.”
And she had to stop because she knew, she knew he was close to breaking down completely, and if he broke down in front of her, it was all over.
Willow looked at him, and all she could think of was, why? Why did he have to be hurt so much? Why? But she knew there wasn’t any answer. She had asked herself the same questions once, as her own mother kicked and beat her up on the floor, she had asked the same damn things and even now, there wasn’t an answer.
Sometimes, life just hurt.
“How did you know, Willow?” Stavros’ voice was as empty as his eyes. “Did Edith call you? Was she there?”
If only.
Slowly, she shook her head.
His face turned rigid.
“Stavros---”
“Tell me,” Stavros roared.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “It’s all over the news. Someone somehow managed to record everything and…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She stepped towards him again.
“No.”
“Stavros, please.”
Stavros’ fists clenched. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you, but I need to be alone. Nothing…nothing you can say right now will stop the hurting.”
* * *
She waited.
In his bedroom, alone in the dark, she waited.
Minutes turned into hours, and still she waited.
She waited because that was what he had asked her to do.
She waited because she loved him.
She waited until she fell asleep.
When she woke up, she was still alone.
Chapter Eleven
No one will ever convince me that you don’t love me except you.
Love, Your Greek Billionaire
“Thank you for coming, Edith.” Stavros spoke with infinite courtesy as he came to his feet the moment his mother entered the conference room with her legal counsel in tow. In the last twelve hours, he had come to realize that politeness was a pretty useful shield. As long as he remembered to be polite, it allowed him not to feel.
Right now, he needed that.
Edith was visibly startled at his use of her first name. “Are you perhaps trying to hurt me by not calling me ‘mother’?” she asked as she gracefully slid into the seat at the foot of the table while her lawyer claimed the one on her right.
He didn’t answer, merely nodding at Ashley, who had flown over this morning from Florida. She was the only one he could trust to handle the matter discreetly.
At his nod, Ashley walked to the other pair and handed them their copies of the contract.
Soon, they began reacting, exactly
how he envisioned them. Edith and her lawyer talked in low furious whispers before his mother’s head jerked up and she demanded suspiciously, “Is this some kind of trick?”
Stavros’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Do I appear the type to indulge in them?”
Edith’s gaze narrowed. “Something’s different about you. Is it because your dear Papa has gone to hell now?”
Stavros checked his watch. “You have ten minutes to sign that.”
“What if I don’t want it doubled? What if I want everything?”
“I’ve always thought you were a smart woman. Please don’t disappoint me now. This is the best and only offer you will receive from me.”
They looked at each other, and when Stavros’ face remained politely expressionless, Edith was the first one to look away.
She took the pen.
Stavros watched the woman who gave birth to him sign her motherhood away. He had promised to double her allowance, together with an assurance that it would continue for the rest of her life. He had also given her a $20M property under her name and even promised medical coverage in the event that she would come to need it.
In exchange, he had asked that they never see each other again.
Stavros watched her scrawl her name on each page, over and over, and he remembered Dr. Lekkas’ story about the child whose own father was about to kill him.
He saw his father bearing down on him with a knife in his hand. A witness told me that when she saw the father, the look in his eye told her that he really was going to kill his own son.
The child closed his eyes.
Whether he died or not is immaterial.
When the child closed his eyes, he no longer cared. He had chosen to die.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Manolis,” Stavros heard Edith’s lawyer exclaim. “You’re a very rich woman now.”
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he could no longer feel a thing. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was trauma. But it no longer mattered really. He was just glad he no longer felt a thing.
He rose to his feet. “I wish you a good life, Edith.”
She laughed. “I will, and all I had to do was give birth to you and then promise not to see you again. Quite the bargain, isn’t it?”
He returned her smile. “Quite.”
When they left, Ashley came back inside the conference room. “Sir?”
“Is she in my office?”
Ashley’s face was just as expressionless as his, but her voice was tight as she answered, “Yes, Mr. Manolis. She’s in your office.” She paused then, as if unable to help it, she said fiercely, “The woman who we both know loves you and whose eyes are swollen right now. Willow. That’s who’s here.”
* * *
“I apologize for making you wait.”
Willow scrambled to her feet as she heard the door open and Stavros came in with his politely delivered apology. She was about to say a hundred things – I don’t mind waiting, how do you feel, are you okay – but the words died in her throat when she saw his face.
His beautiful, beloved, blank face.
“What’s wrong?” The words burst out of her.
Stavros went around to stand behind his desk. “Please take a seat.”
She shook her head. “Stavros, what’s wrong?” Worry had turned her voice shrill.
He lifted a brow at her. Whatever are you talking about?
She hated it. She rarely hated that look of his, but she hated it now.
“Calm down---”
She wanted to throw something at him. “Why are you talking like that?”
“I don’t quite understand---”
“Stop fucking with me!”
Stavros stilled.
Just when she thought he would keep pretending, she heard him say levelly, “As you wish.” Her eyes jerked to him.
“I’ll get straight to the point then.” He pushed forward an envelope on the table. “That contains a letter that will assure you of a publication deal with Willem de Konigh.”
Willow was even more confused. Had she forgotten to tell him she already had a deal? Was that what this was all about? “Stavros, I---”
“But I would like you to make a choice.”
Her confusion deepened at his words, but even so, she could feel her heart racing, as if sensing that something wasn’t just wrong. Something had changed, and it had changed Stavros, too.
Stavros, look at me. Stop scaring me. Look at me like you once did. Like you could at least accept that I love you.
But Stavros didn’t.
It was as if he could no longer hear her at all.
Willow choked back a sob.
Stavros’ jaw hardened at the sound. “You know, right?”
“No.”
He laughed shortly. “You’re not stupid. Don’t lie to me.”
He was right. She wasn’t stupid. But right now, she couldn’t think. She could only feel. “Tell me then---”
He didn’t let her finish. “Choose between this deal and me. Which do you want more?”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” She really didn’t. She wanted to. She needed to. Because right now, what she did understand – she didn’t want to think of because it hurt. “Why would you even make me choose---”
“Why won’t you answer?”
“Why are you even asking me this?”
“Why does it matter?” Stavros snarled. He wanted to punch something, wanted to hit the wall over and over until the pain made him numb.
Everything was going as planned.
Everything.
And he had never felt this dead in his life.
“Answer me.” He wanted to hear her say it because then it would be over. Completely over.
“Stavros.” She willed him to hear her. Please. Stop this. Please. But his eyes remained cold and empty. Her chest heaved, and she asked hoarsely, “Can I ask you something first?”
“What is it?”
“What do you think will make you happy?”
The question stunned him.
“Please,” Willow whispered. “Please just tell me the truth---”
“You know what I was thinking the whole time I was on my way to my father’s funeral?”
She shook her head.
“I was thinking of you. I thought of you and it made me hope. That maybe, there was one day, even just one second in my father’s life that he really loved me. Because if you could…if you could love me, after everything I’ve done, then maybe it would be the same with my father.”
His lips twisted. “But it wasn’t. And now, when I look at you…” Stavros inhaled hard.
Willow’s head slowly lowered.
He might not hear her, but she heard him, loud and clear. Oh, so painfully clear, and it was tearing her apart.
He would look at her now, and she would remind him of Edith in so many terrible ways. He would look at her now, and she would remind him of his father’s last gift. And above all things, every time he looked at her, Stavros would remember the taste of his shame. Because Willow knew what he had gone through, and he would never be able to move on because of that.
To love her now was to hurt himself…and she just didn’t want that.
Day 7. The words fluttered in her mind. Today was the seventh day of their bet, and Stavros was granting her wish without knowing it. She would lose the bet, but she would have her wish and in the end, that was the most important.
Now, she realized there was something she wanted more than his love. Now, she realized what she wanted most was for Stavros to be happy, and she was getting her wish. All she had to do was break her heart.
“You’re right not to trust me.”
Stavros’ head shot up.
“Everything was a lie.” Her hand shook as she reached for the envelope on the table, and she forced a sob back when Stavros’ fingers wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from taking it.
“What are you talking about?” Stavros’ v
oice was sharp with pained disbelief.
She forced her eyes to meet his. “You know what this means.” She wrenched her hand out of his hold, her fingers clutching the envelope tightly. “It’s been about the deal all along and now that you’ve forced my hand…”
Willow couldn’t continue any longer.
She started walking away.
Stavros was stunned. Was this really fucking happening? Was she really leaving him for money? And if she was…wasn’t this what he wanted?
The answer came to him.
“Stop! Come back, dammit.”
At his words, Willow made a dash for the door. She was crying now, and she cried harder when she heard Stavros go after hear. “Stop, dammit!” He was shouting, his voice raw, and he didn’t seem to care that his entire Athens office had become his dumbstruck audience.
He caught her just as she pressed the button for the elevator. “Tell me it’s not fucking true.” His voice was low and ravaged with torment. His chest pressed against her back, and she started to sob harder when she felt the desperate, fear-crazed beat of his heart.
“Tell me. Please.”
Shiiiiiiiiiit. She repeated the word in her mind over and over. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She couldn’t let herself think about anything else.
The elevator doors slid open.
“Willow---”
Shoving him away, she hurried into the elevator. You’re doing this for him, she told herself feverishly. You’re doing this because you want him to stop hurting.
The words gave her the courage to face Stavros, whose finger was still on the button, preventing the elevator doors from closing. “Let go, Stavros.”
“Let’s just fucking talk about this---”
She gave him the middle finger.
And then she reached out to push his hand away.
She managed not to break down until the doors closed.
She started to sob.
One day, he would know that she was doing this for him. That she loved him so much she had pretended to take the deal, just so he could heal on his own. Because now she understood that it had never been an issue of him loving her.
He loved her.
From the start he loved her.