A Fling with the Greek Billionaire

by Marian Tee

  A tinkling sound coming from the laptop cut him off, announcing the arrival of a new email in Miranda’s inbox.

  The message was from Daria Everest.

  Chapter Two

  Alyx observed Daria’s bedroom with a frown. It was the same room she had visited over the years. Same lavender-colored ceiling, same Japanese-styled shutters, same artwork-turned-wallpaper covering the walls, but with one notable difference: the room was explicitly neat and clutter-free. No pens and nibs on Daria’s drawing table, no magazines left lying on the carpeted floor, no coats tossed over the mirror.

  Alyx’s gaze returned to the owner of the room. She was curled up in bed reading, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she flipped to the next page. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in ages, her eyes looked puffy with tiredness, and her body was thin to the point of frailness.

  She glanced at Yanna, who stood quietly next to Daria’s drawing table. This is not the Daria I know.

  A miserable expression flitted over Yanna’s face. I know.

  Alyx looked back at Daria. She squinted at the book her friend was reading, grimacing when she realized what was written on the cover.

  It’s Okay to Be Pathetic After a Breakup.

  Her eyes widened. What the hell? She stalked towards the bed. “Time’s up, Daria.” She glared down at her friend, but Daria didn’t even seem to hear her, and Alyx’s resolve strengthened. “I never thought I’d say this,” she muttered. “But you have got to stop reading.” She snatched the book out of her friend’s hands.

  Shocked at suddenly finding herself bereft of words of wisdom about handling a breakup, Daria looked up, and her confusion deepened at seeing Alyx. “A-Alyx?” Then she saw Yanna, and she rubbed her eyes. “Yanna?” When had they arrived? And why were they here?

  “Were we supposed to meet today?” She glanced at her calendar – or at least where her calendar was supposed be. It was gone now. She had dumped it in the trash the moment she had returned home. Calendars didn’t remind her of time now. Every time she looked at one, she only remembered Nik’s jeering words about them.

  A lost look suddenly entered Daria’s gray eyes, and seeing it made Yanna’s throat constrict. “Oh, Daria,” she sighed sadly.

  Daria’s eyes started to sting at Yanna’s tone. You can’t cry, she warned herself. You shouldn’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry.

  She felt the bed dip, and she looked up to realize that both Alyx and Yanna had come close, sitting on opposite edges of the bed, identical looks of sadness on their faces.

  Her eyes stung more painfully, and she had to drag a deep, shaky breath to control herself. To punish herself.

  “Dar…you know this can’t continue, right?” Yanna asked quietly.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.

  “Of course you do,” Alyx snapped. “Look around you. When was the last time you drew? When was the last time you left this room, or took a shower—”

  “I don’t stink—”

  “That’s not the point,” Alyx burst out, “and you know it!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “You can’t spend the whole time reading stupid books like this!” She waved Daria’s book in her friend’s face. “You know it’s crap, right?”

  “It’s not crap,” Daria began.

  “But Daria, it says it’s okay to be pathetic,” Yanna interrupted with a troubled frown. “I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

  “And take this…” Alyx had the book open to the last page. “Her author bio states she’s never experienced a breakup, that she’s been married since forever.” She scowled at Daria. “Why would you take advice from someone like her?”

  “Because she knows how to prevent one—”

  “Yes, prevent one, but that’s not what you need to do, is it?” Alyx’s arms crossed over her chest. “What you need is to learn how to move on past your breakup.”

  Daria found herself unable to meet Alyx’s gaze. She looked down. Her hands, resting over the covers, were clenched into fists, and she realized belatedly that she had been trembling the entire time she and Alyx were talking.

  “Isn’t it, Daria?” Alyx insisted.

  No, she thought.

  She didn’t want to move on—

  “Daria.” Yanna’s soft voice made Daria bite her lip hard and again, the urge to weep tempted her to just break down and let it all out.

  Don’t cry. You can’t cry. You mustn’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry.

  “Daria, please,” Yanna whispered. “You have to stop hurting yourself like this. He’s engaged, Dar. You can’t wait keep waiting for him to come back—”

  “But not married,” Daria said tightly. Nik wasn’t yet married. She could feel it in her bones, and surely that meant—

  Alyx quashed all her hopes with four words. “But he will be!”

  Her chest heaved as the truth was forced on her. Don’t cry, don’t cry—

  “You have to forget him,” Yanna pleaded.

  “I can’t.” The words were torn out of her. She raised her head, looked at her friends with eyes that weren’t allowed to cry. “I wish I could…” She groped for words. “I loved him. And he loved me. I wish there was a way to explain how right things felt between us, it was so right.”

  “But he chose someone else over you,” Alyx protested. “It’s over between you—”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “No. It’s not.” It can’t be. What she and Nik had was special. Every beat of her heart told her so, and she knew it to be true even if everyone thought she was being fanciful or delusional.

  “I just need to wait,” Daria whispered. But what she really meant, what she was really doing, she knew she could never tell them.

  Ever since she left Teleios, she had punished herself. Every day, she punished herself by not allowing herself to cry, to remember, or to even feel.

  She kept punishing herself, believing with all her heart that if she suffered just enough, maybe God would take pity on her and give Daria another chance.

  When Alyx and Yanna had left, it was only because Daria had promised to at least take a shower and leave the room so she wouldn’t drive herself crazy with misery.

  Fair enough, she thought. She needed to keep her sanity intact anyway. If she were crazy, how would she know if her punishment had ended and she was given another chance?

  Silly, silly thoughts, but Daria embraced each and every one of them. If she had allowed herself to be realistic, she would never have gotten this far without breaking down.

  After taking a shower, Daria forced herself to go to her table and open her laptop. While she hadn’t any pending commissions, she did owe people emails. The idea of having to lie about why she hadn’t been able to answer them right away was depressing, almost tempting her to just click Select All and Delete on all unread messages.

  Two clicks, and her inbox would have a fresh new start. The idea became even more tempting, but she managed not to give in. This was another punishment, she reminded herself doggedly. This was another way to get her second chance. Or her twenty-ninth. Or thirtieth. She wasn’t really sure how to count it.

  Squaring her shoulders, Daria clicked on the first unopened message and started to read. Hours passed, but even when she had to stand up and shake some life back into her limbs, she still had two pages of unopened emails to read.

  No quitting, Daria told herself. If she didn’t want Nik to quit on her, she couldn’t quit on this either.

  So she went back to her seat and resumed clicking. When she moved to the last page of unread emails, the first one she clicked on was her reward.

  It was a message offering her a job in New York City.

  NYC…where Nik and Miranda lived.

  Chapter Three

  “Please follow me, Ms. Everest.”

  Daria hastily stood up and followed the receptionist through a hallway designed to intimidate, with its vaulted ceiling and plush carpet.

  It wasn’t like her to
be nervous, but she was now, her heart doing its best to smash its way out of her chest.

  Up, down, up, down, up, down—

  Please God, please, please help me get this job. Daria wiped clammy hands against the side of her pencil-cut skirt as she prayed.

  The urge to cry came out of nowhere, taking her by surprise, and Daria hastily averted her gaze to the ceiling.

  Don’t cry. You mustn’t cry. You shouldn’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry. She inhaled and exhaled several times as she recited the mantra in her mind.

  She could have come here anytime, but what little pride Daria had left prevented her from doing so. She had played the role of Facebook stalker one too many times in the past. If she wanted her second chance with Nik to start right, then she couldn’t allow herself to make the same mistakes.

  She couldn’t let her whole life revolve around love, not even if she wanted to. She could only allow herself to go to NYC if she had a legitimate reason, and this job was it.

  A two-month stay, a styling challenge she hadn’t ever come across, and a bridezilla as a client according to the email.

  Two months, Daria thought. She had two months to find Nik and Miranda, whose surnames she didn’t even know. She had tried searching for “Nik and Miranda” on the Internet but came up with nothing. Either those weren’t their real names, or they were rich enough to hide from Google.

  “We’re here, Ms. Everest.” Turning towards her with a frosty smile, the receptionist opened a door for Daria.

  “Thank you.” She tried to use a sunny smile to melt the other woman’s icy behavior but failed. Stepping past the receptionist with a gulp, Daria went inside the conference, heart thudding harder against her chest as she heard the receptionist pull the door close behind her.

  Words from her usual spiel for introducing herself and talking about her work ran through her mind, and she mentally sighed in relief. Good. She still remembered what to say.

  She looked up, smile in place, and the first thing she saw was Nik and his fiancée staring back at her from across the room.

  Daria blinked several times. The vision didn’t waver, didn’t change, but her heartbeat did, racing, skipping—

  Up, down, up, down—

  It was really Nik. It was really Miranda. And, Daria thought dazedly, she was really screwed.

  She halted midway, unwilling to come any closer. If she did, she had a feeling she would probably expire out of sheer distress.

  Despite her state of misery and shock, she couldn’t help observing painfully how the two of them looked good together. The couple had immediately come to their feet the moment she entered. Nik looked dashingly handsome in his black suit, his dark eyes cold and his expression aloof. Beside him, Miranda, in her white lace dress and matching shoes, was still perfectly small, perfectly blond, and perfectly feminine.

  Daria wanted to hate her, but she tried not to because only bitches hated other women for being perfect. She might be a flirt, but she at least drew the line at being a bitch.

  “Ms. Everest, thank you for coming,” Miranda said in a perfectly pleasant voice.

  She could listen to that voice forever, Daria thought. Everything about Miranda was just so perfect. It almost gave her a perverse and obsessive kind of pleasure, counting the number of ways she came up short when compared to the other woman.

  As Miranda spoke, she closed the distance between them, Nik following shortly behind. Daria tried hard not to stare at Nik the whole time.

  Miranda offered her hand, and Daria forced herself to take it. She also made an effort not to crush the other woman’s doll-like fingers. God, those fingers were so thin and tiny. Surely it was impossible those fingers had muscles and real flesh like hers?

  When Miranda stepped back, Daria saw her side brush against Nik, and the rollercoaster that carried her heart took a nosedive at the sight.

  Her gaze flew up to the ceiling. Don’t cry. You shouldn’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry.

  But when she looked back at the couple, Daria was startled to notice that a good half-foot separated them. Her gaze flickered towards Miranda’s, and that was when she saw the faint apology in the other woman’s blue eyes. I’m sorry that hurt you. We didn’t mean to.

  How perfectly, graciously forgiving of Miranda. Daria wanted to kill herself on the spot after it.

  “I know you’re surprised to see us.” Miranda’s voice was filled with remorse. “I’m sorry about the little bit of subterfuge I had to use to get you to come here.”

  Daria was determined to be as gracious as the other woman was. So she said, “Are you, really?” Her mouth snapped shut. Shit. So much for gracious.

  But Miranda didn’t seem bothered by her childish comeback. She only said with quiet dignity, “I know how it looks like, and I’m sorry.”

  And with that, Daria thought miserably, Miranda had proved who the bitch between the two of them was.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about that time in Teleios, and one day, I just realized I couldn’t live with myself anymore until I made everything right with you.”

  Miranda squared her dainty shoulders and looked at Daria. “Firstly, I’d like to apologize to you, for everything that I said which had hurt you.”

  Daria knew she should officially accept the apology, but she just couldn’t. The three of them knew if anyone was supposed to say sorry, it should be her. But she just couldn’t make herself do that either.

  When it was clear Daria wouldn’t speak, Miranda hesitated a moment before continuing, “I know things like this sometimes can’t be controlled.”

  Things like this? A perfect understatement, Daria thought, to describe what she had with Nik…and lost.

  “I just hope that one day, you can find with another man what I have with Nik.”

  So, so perfect. How crazy, how stupid, how hopeless was it that Daria could find it in her to admire Nik’s fiancée while her heart spiraled down into another crash?

  Miranda belonged to Nik, and Nik belonged to Miranda, and the other woman had been able to get the message across without being bitchy.

  Again, Miranda politely waited for her to speak. Again, Daria ungraciously refused.

  Finally, Miranda said, “I also thought – and I’m offering this as an olive branch of sorts – perhaps you would like to be one of the stylists for our wedding?”

  Daria’s jaw dropped.

  A polite, questioning smile formed on Miranda’s lips.

  This time, she had to speak. “Excuse me?”

  “I’d like to ask if you could join the design team for my wedding.” Miranda raised a hand when Daria opened her mouth to say ‘hell no, over my dead body.’

  “Please hear me out first. I’ve talked about this with Nik, and he understands my decision. He supports it.”

  Daria saw Miranda send a loving look to Nik, and she thought again, Hell no, over my dead body. Nothing in this world would make her look Nik’s way, too, and risk seeing him return that look with one of his own.

  The mere thought tempted her to hysterics. Nik, looking at another woman with love in his eyes?

  Hell. No. Over. My. Dead. Body.

  “I don’t want to start my married life – our married life – thinking of you as an enemy.” Her cheeks blossomed with heat. “I’m sorry, but yes, that’s how I think of you.”

  Was it possible to die in the face of such perfection? If so, Daria might just be its first known victim.

  “That’s why I’ve proposed this to Nik. I want to put everything behind me, and to prove to both of us that I truly trust him now, I thought I could invite you to work on our wedding.” Miranda took a deep breath. “If you accept, you’ll also be communicating with Nik the whole time. Just Nik. I won’t be around.”

  Daria tried to wrap her head around it. “You won’t be around. As proof that you trust him.”

  “And you, of course,” Miranda added. Daria nodded wordlessly, forcing her to wait. Unbidden, Miranda’s gaze darted to Nik, and sh
e saw that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, the truth was there in his eyes.

  They were so damn alive, heat glittering so fiercely in his eyes, in a way that they never did…for her.

  She forced herself to look away even though she wanted to beg Nik to give her a chance. To try looking at her the way he didn’t want to look at Daria Everest but did.

  Reaching for Daria’s hand, she held it tightly, saying, “I know I have no right to ask you this but please – could you find it in your heart to be friends with us and we can all start anew?”

  ****

  Nik only allowed himself to take a look at Daria when he heard her reply.

  Yes.

  He refused to name the emotion that crowded his heart at hearing her say that one word, refused to acknowledge the reason he had only been able to stop holding his breath now.

  His gaze moving towards her, he ignored the way Daria visibly stiffened when their eyes met, ignored the way her face paled and her throat worked convulsively.

  One second to see her—

  Her hair had grown longer, and her gray eyes appeared larger with the way the angles of her face were more defined now. Her body was thinner, too, making her curves even more prominent, her breasts – well, it was impossible not to stare at them now.

  One damn second.

  That was all it took to realize that he had not succeeded in getting rid of her presence in his heart.

  Nodding curtly at Daria, he turned his attention back to Miranda, and she immediately acted on cue, making excuses for both of them.

  He waited for Daria’s footsteps to recede and the door to swing shut behind her before speaking. “Do you still think this is a good idea?” He sure as hell didn’t. One damn second, and he already wanted to haul Daria into his arms, rediscover the taste of her kiss, and remember the feel of her body.

  Miranda nodded. “I’m doing this for you, darling.” She gazed at him searchingly. “Have you changed your mind about love?”