by Jennie Lucas
Stavros hadn’t meant to get involved. Oliver was right. This was none of his business.
He didn’t care about his cousin. Cousin or not, the man was a useless bastard. Stavros regretted the day he’d hired him. Oliver had done a poor job as VP of Marketing. He’d been within a day of being fired when he’d taken the “surprise offer” from Hong Kong. Stavros was glad to see him go. He suspected Oliver might be surprised when his new employers actually expected him to work for his salary.
Stavros didn’t much care for his cousin’s new bride, either. In spite of his own turmoil last night, he’d actually tried to warn Nicole about Oliver’s cheating ways at the rehearsal dinner. But the blonde had just cut him off. So she knew what she was getting into; she just didn’t care.
He didn’t give a damn about either of them.
But Holly Marlowe—she was different.
Stavros suspected it was only through the hardworking secretary’s efforts that Oliver had managed to stay afloat these last three years. Holly worked long hours at the office then probably nights and weekends at home, doing Oliver’s job for him. Everyone at the New York office loved kind, dependable Miss Marlowe, from the janitors to the COO. Tender-hearted, noble, self-sacrificing... Holly Marlowe was the most respected person in the New York office, Stavros included.
But she was totally oppressed by these two selfish people, who, instead of thanking her for all she’d done, seemed intent on taking her indentured servitude with them to Hong Kong.
Two days ago, Stavros might have shrugged it off. People had the right to make their own choices, even stupid ones.
But not after the news he’d received yesterday. Now, for the first time he was thinking about what his own legacy would be after he was gone. And it wasn’t a pretty picture.
“You can’t have Holly! I need her!” Oliver exploded. At Stavros’s fierce glare, his cousin glanced uneasily at his wife. “We need her.”
“You don’t want some stupid promotion, do you, Holly?” Nicole wailed.
But Holly’s face was shining as she looked at Stavros. “Do—do you mean it?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.” As they drove north, past bundled-up tourists and sparkling lights and brightly decorated department-store windows, his gaze unwillingly traced over her pretty face and incredible figure. Until he’d stood across from her in the old stone church by candlelight, he’d never realized how truly beautiful Holly Marlowe was.
The truth was, he hadn’t wanted to notice. Beautiful women were a dime a dozen in his world, while truly competent, highly driven secretaries were few. And Holly had hidden her beauty, making herself nearly invisible at the office, yanking her fiery red hair in a matronly bun, never wearing makeup, working quietly behind the scenes in loose-cut beige skirt suits and sensible shoes.
Was this what she’d looked like all the time? Right under his nose?
Her bright, wide-set green eyes looked up at him, luminous beneath dramatic black lashes. Her skin was pale except for a smattering of freckles over her nose. Her lips were red and delectable as she nibbled them with white, even teeth. Her thick, curly red-gold hair spilled over her shoulders. And that tight red dress—
That dress—
Stavros obviously wasn’t dead yet, because it set his pulse racing.
The bodice was low-cut, clinging to full, delicious breasts he’d never imagined existed beneath those baggy beige suits. As she moved, the knit fabric clung to her curves. He’d gotten a look at her deliciously full backside as they’d left the church, too.
All things he would have to ignore once she worked for him. Deliberately, he looked away. He didn’t seduce women who worked for him. Why would he, when beautiful women were so plentiful in his world, and truly spectacular employees more precious than diamonds?
Sex was an amusement, nothing more. But for years, his company had been his life.
And the reason Holly chose to dress so plainly in the office was obviously that she wanted to be valued for her accomplishments and hard work, not her appearance. In that, they were the same. From the time he was a child, Stavros had wanted to do important things. He’d wanted to change the world.
But that wasn’t all they had in common. He’d seen her tortured expression as she’d looked at Oliver. So Stavros and Holly each had secrets they didn’t want to talk about.
To anyone.
Ever.
But her inexplicable infatuation for Oliver couldn’t possibly last. When she recovered from it, like someone healing from a bad cold, she’d realize she’d dodged a bullet.
As for Stavros’s secret, people would figure it out for themselves when he dropped dead. Which, according to his doctor’s prognosis, would happen in about six to nine months. He blinked.
All the life he’d left unlived...
Just a few days ago, Stavros had vaguely assumed he’d have another fifty years. Instead, he’d be unlikely to see his thirty-seventh birthday next September.
He would die alone, with no one but his lawyers and stockholders to mourn him. His company would be his only legacy. Estranged from his father, and feeling as he did about Oliver, Stavros would likely leave his shares to charity.
Poor Stavros, his ex-mistresses would say. Then they’d roll over and enjoy their hot new lovers in bed.
Poor Minos, his business associates would say. Then they’d focus on exciting new technology to buy and sell.
And he’d be dirt in the ground. Never once knowing what it felt like to commit to anything but work. Not even leaving a son or daughter to carry on his name.
Looking back, Stavros saw it all with painful clarity, now that his life was coming to an end. And he had only himself to blame. Nicole’s thoughtlessly cruel words floated back to him. Do you really want to die alone?
Christmas lights sparkled on Sixth Avenue, as yellow taxis filled with people on the way to family dinners rushed past in the rapidly falling twilight. The limo turned east, finally pulling into the entrance of the grand hotel overlooking Central Park.
“This isn’t over, Holly,” Oliver said firmly. “I’m going to persuade you.”
“You’ll come with us,” Nicole said, smiling as she smoothed back her veil.
The uniformed driver opened the back door of the limousine. Oliver got out first, then gallantly reached back to assist his glamorous bride. Nicole’s white tulle skirts swirled in a train with her fluttery white veil, her diamond tiara sparkling. Tourists gaped at them on the sidewalk. A few lifted their phones for pictures, clearly believing they were seeing royalty. The new Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Minos waved at them regally as they swept into the grand hotel to take photos before the guests arrived for a ballroom reception.
Silence fell in the back of the limo. For a moment, Holly didn’t move. Stavros looked at her.
“Don’t give in to them, Holly,” he urged in a low voice. It was the first time he’d used her first name. “Stick up for yourself. You’re worth so much more than they are.”
Her green eyes widened, then suddenly glistened with tears. She whispered, “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” he said harshly. He got out of the limo and held out his hand for her.
Blinking fast, she slowly placed her hand in his.
And it happened.
Stavros had slept with many women, beautiful and famous and powerful, models and starlets and even a Nobel laureate.
But when he touched Holly’s hand to help her from the limo, he felt something he’d never experienced before. An electric shock sizzled him to his core.
He looked down at her as he pulled her to the sidewalk, his heart pounding strangely as he helped her to her feet. Snowflakes suddenly began falling as she looked up, lingering in his arms.
Then Holly’s gaze fell on the lacy white snowflakes. With a joyous laugh, she dropped his hand, looking u
p with wonder at the gray lowering sky.
Without her warmth, Stavros again felt the winter chill beneath his tuxedo jacket. The world became a darker place, freezing him, reminding him he’d soon feel nothing at all. He stood very still, watching her. Then he lifted his face to the sky, wondering if this would be the last time he’d feel snowflakes on his skin.
If only he could have at least left a child behind. He suddenly wanted that so badly it hurt. If only he could have left some memory of his existence on earth.
But the women he knew were as ambitious and heartless as he was. He couldn’t leave an innocent child in their care. Children needed someone willing to put their needs above her own. He knew no woman like that. None at all.
Then he heard a laugh of pure delight, and Stavros looked down at Holly Marlowe’s beautiful, shining, tenderhearted eyes.
“Can you believe it?” Stretching her arms wide, laughing like a child, she whirled in a circle, holding out her tongue to taste the snowflakes. She looked like an angel. Her eyes danced as she cried, “It’s snowing at my sister’s wedding! On Christmas Eve!”
And all of the busy avenue, the tourists, the horse-drawn carriages, the taxis blaring Christmas music, faded into the background. Stavros saw only her.
CHAPTER TWO
THE GRAND TWO-STORY hotel ballroom was a winter wonderland, filled with white-and-silver Christmas trees twinkling like stars. Each of the twenty big round tables had centerpieces of red roses, deep scarlet against the white. It was even more beautiful than Holly had dreamed. A lump rose in her throat as she slowly looked around her.
She’d imagined a wedding reception like this long ago, as a lonely nineteen-year-old, cutting out photographs from magazines and putting them in an idea book each night while her little sister slept in the dark apartment. Holly had been alone, her friends all in college or partying in clubs.
Holly didn’t regret her choice to give up her college scholarship and come home. After their parents had died in the car accident on their anniversary, she’d known she couldn’t leave Nicole to foster care. But sometimes, she’d felt so trapped, chained by the responsibilities of love. She’d felt so lonely, without a partner, and with a teenaged sister who’d often shouted at Holly in her own grief and frustrated rage.
So to comfort herself, Holly had created the dream book. It had kept her company, until Nicole had left for college three years ago, and Holly had started working for Oliver.
In her romantic fantasy of long ago, she’d always imagined she’d be the bride in the white princess dress, dancing with an adoring groom. Now, as she watched Nicole and Oliver dance their first dance as husband and wife, surrounded by all their adoring friends, she told herself she’d never been so happy.
“They really do make a perfect couple.” Stavros’s low, husky voice spoke beside her. Somehow, his tone made the words less than complimentary.
“Yes,” Holly said, moving slightly to make sure they didn’t accidentally touch. When he’d helped her from the limo earlier, her whole body had trembled. It was totally ridiculous. She was sure Stavros Minos hadn’t felt anything. Why would he? While Holly, hours later, still felt burning hot, lit up from within, whenever the Greek billionaire drew close. Whenever he even looked at her. She had to get ahold of herself, if she was going to be his assistant!
What was wrong with her? Holly didn’t understand. How could she feel so—so aware of Stavros, when she was in love with Oliver?
She was, wasn’t she?
But she didn’t want to love Oliver anymore. It had done nothing but hurt her. And now he was her brother-in-law, it felt slimy and wrong. She wanted to reach inside her soul and turn off her feelings like a light—
“You arranged the reception, too, didn’t you?” Stavros said, looking at the Christmas fantasy around them.
She forced herself to smile. “I wanted my sister to have a dream wedding. I did my best.”
Stavros abruptly turned to look at the happy couple, dancing now in front of the largest white-flocked tree, decorated with white lights and silver stars. He took a long drink of the amber-colored liquid he’d gotten from the open bar. “You are a good person.”
Again, the words should have been a compliment, but they weren’t. Not the way he said them. She tried to read his expression, but his darkly handsome face was inscrutable. She shook her head. “You must hate all this.”
“This?”
“Being best man at a wedding.” Holly shrugged. “You’re the most famously commitment-phobic bachelor in the city.”
He took another deliberate drink. “Let’s just say love is something I’ve never had the good fortune to experience.”
More irony, she thought. Then his black eyes burned through her, reminding her he knew about her secret love for Oliver. Her cheeks burned.
Looking toward the beautiful bride and handsome groom slow-dancing in the center of the ballroom, the very picture of fairy-tale love, she mumbled, “You’re right. They do make a perfect couple.”
“Stop it,” he said sharply, as if he was personally annoyed.
“Stop what?”
“Take off the rose-colored glasses.”
Her mouth dropped. “What?”
“You’d have to be stupid to love Oliver. And whatever you are, Miss Marlowe, you’re not stupid.”
The conversation had taken a strangely personal turn. Her heart pounded. But there seemed no point in trying to lie. She’d never dared to give voice to her feelings before. She whispered, “How did you guess?”
He rolled his eyes. “You wear your heart on your face.” He paused. “I’m sure Oliver knows exactly how you feel.”
Horror went through her. “Oh, no—he couldn’t possibly—”
“Of course he knows,” Stavros said brutally. “How else could he have taken advantage of you all these years?”
“Advantage?” Astonished, she looked up at him. “Of me?”
He looked down at her seriously. “I have ten thousand employees around the world. And from what everyone tells me, you’re the hardest working one.”
“Mr. Minos—”
“Call me Stavros,” he ordered.
“Stavros.” She blushed. “I’m sure that’s not true. I go home at six every night—”
“Yes, home to do Oliver’s paperwork. Never asking for a raise, even though you were paying for your sister to go to college. Which, by the way, she could have gotten a job and paid for herself.”
Her blush deepened in confusion. “I take care of my sister because—because she’s my responsibility. I take care of Oliver because, because,” she continued, faltering, “I’m his employee. At least I was...”
“And because you’re in love with him.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.
“And now he’s impulsively married your sister, and instead of being angry—” he motioned at the winter wonderland around them “—you arranged all this.”
“Except for this dress.” She looked down ruefully at the tight red dress, wishing she was dressed in that modest burgundy gown she’d selected. “Nicole picked it out. She said my dress was the frumpiest thing she’d ever seen and she wasn’t going to let it ruin her wedding photographs.”
“They really do deserve each other, don’t they?” he murmured. Then he glanced down at her and growled, “You look beautiful in that dress.”
Another compliment that didn’t sound like a compliment. If anything, he sounded angry about it. His jaw was tight as he looked away.
Was he mocking her? She didn’t understand why he would tell her she was beautiful but sound almost furious about it. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, “Thanks.”
For a moment, the two of them stood apart from the crowd, watching as the bridal couple finished their dance with a long, flashy kiss. The guests applauded then went out to jo
in them on the dance floor. Feeling awkward, Holly started to turn away.
Stavros stopped her, his dark eyes glittering as he said huskily, “Dance with me.”
“What? No.”
Broad-shouldered and powerful in his tuxedo, he towered over her like a dark shadow. Lifting a sardonic eyebrow, he just held out his hand, waiting.
What was he playing at? Stavros took starlets and models to his bed. Why would he be interested in dancing with a plain, ordinary girl like her? She looked up at him. His handsome face was arrogant, as untouchable and distant as a star.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she said stiffly.
“I don’t.”
“Or if you think it’s a requirement, because you’re best man and I’m maid of honor—”
“Do I strike you as a man who gives a damn about other people’s rules?” he asked, cutting her off. “I just want you to see the truth.”
“What’s that?” Half-mesmerized, she let him pull her into his powerful arms. Electricity crackled up her arm as she felt the heat of his palm against hers. She looked up at his face. His jawline was dark with five-o’clock shadow below razor-sharp cheekbones. There was a strange darkness in his black eyes, a vibrating tension from his muscular body beneath the well-cut tuxedo.
“You don’t love my cousin. You never did.”
She tried to pull away. “You have some nerve to—”
Holding her hand implacably in his own, he led her out onto the dance floor, where guests swayed to the slow romantic Christmas music of the orchestra.
She felt everyone looking at her. The women, with a mix of envy and bewilderment, the men, with interest, their eyes lingering on her uncomfortably low neckline.
Even Nicole and Oliver paused to gape at the sight of Stavros leading her out on the dance floor. Holly felt equally bewildered. Stavros could dance with anyone. Why would he choose her? Had he lost some kind of bet?
Surely this couldn’t just be to convince Holly she had no real feelings for Oliver.
But if he could, how wonderful would that be?
Suddenly, Holly wanted it more than anything in the world.