Love, Your Greek Billionaire
Love, Your Greek Billionaire
Marian Tee
Contents
About Love, Your Greek Billionaire
More from Marian Tee
Copyright
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
Dear Reader
Also by Marian Tee
About the Author
About Love, Your Greek Billionaire
Her billionaire boss is her former lover. And now, she’s blackmailing him to experience what it is to be loved.
24-year-old Willow Somerset is taking the greatest gamble in her life. She’s giving herself seven days to make Stavros Manolis realize how much she means to him. But if nothing changes, she promises herself that it will mean goodbye…forever.
More from Marian Tee
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Standalone Novels
His Fair Lady – Prince Julian knows the blind fortune teller Cass is everything he wants in a woman, but she can never be his bride.
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24-year-old school teacher Mairi, a hopeless romantic, thinks all her dreams will come true with Greek billionaire Damen Leventis. Problem is, he only wants her as a mistress.
The Art of Catching a Greek Billionaire (FREE!)
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The Art of Loving a Greek Billionaire
The Art of Forgiving a Greek Billionaire
The Art of Wedding a Greek Billionaire
The Art of Kissing a Greek Billionaire (FREE!)
Schoolteacher Velvet enters into a marriage of convenience but is too proud to tell her Greek billionaire husband it’s because she’s in love with him.
The Greek Billionaire and I
24-year-old Willow is an ill-mannered junior editor.
27-year-old Stavros Manolis is a conservative Greek billionaire. They have nothing in common except…that one night they had with each other.
The Greek Billionaire and His Secretary (Prequel)
Dear Greek Billionaire
Love, Your Greek Billionaire
Forever and Ever, My Greek Billionaire
Warning: Love Moderately (BBW Billionaire New Adult College Romance)
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Kellion & Aria (Standalone) – Aria’s content living her life alone, shut off from the world, but when bad boy Kellion Argyros starts following her wherever she goes, it’s impossible not to start living…and impossible not to start falling for him.
Play With Me: A Sports Romance Series
All Lace Wyndham wants is to be an NBA coach.
All bad boy billionaire Silver March wants is HER.
It’s not a match made in heaven, but since he already had his heart stolen, Silver is willing to do whatever it takes – bribe, deceive, manipulate – to make Lace realize the inevitable: It’s his name she’ll be crying out…every night.
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The Art of Claiming an Alpha: My Werewolf Bodyguard (Paranormal Romance)
Human-slash-pack-princess Calys is a toughie, but she still needs the help of the powerful, dominant, and gorgeous werewolf Alejandro Moretti to be an ‘alpha’. Unfortunately, he wants her body in exchange for her help.
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The Master and His Soul Seer Pet: New Adult College Vampire Romance
Life isn’t easy for 18-year-old Zari. As a soul seer, she sees visions of dead people as well as those who are about to die. As a human pet, she struggles to control her feelings for her Master, the powerful, gorgeous, and mysterious vampire Alexandru, who’s in love with someone else.
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Unclaimed (PREORDER)
Copyright 2015 by Streak Digital Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Prologue
Recommended playlist:
Salted Wound by Sia
We’ve Only Just Begun by The Carpenters
Orlando, Florida
“It’s good to see you again, Stavros,” Dr. Lekkas murmured as he shook hands with his former patient. “Although I do wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“You and me both, Dr. Lekkas.” Stavros’ smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The older man observed the billionaire as Stavros took his usual seat at the couch, his face impassive, his back straight and his entire body still. Even when Stavros had been in his teens, he had been painfully correct and restrained.
Damn Edith and Giorgio Manolis for this, Dr. Lekkas thought with unusual anger. He only needed to look at Stavros’ unreadable gaze to know that even now, the effects of the couple’s appallingly selfish ways had not faded over time.
Allowing a full minute to pass, Dr. Lekkas then asked quietly, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Stavros?”
Again, that smile.
It had been there the first time they had met, Stavros required by the court to receive therapy because the one time that he had given in to his mother’s request to stay over in her apartment, Stavros had woken up to Edith standing next to his bed, leaning over him, a pillow on her hands.
Edith’s lawyers had skillfully managed to make light of the situation, but everyone who knew of it had seen the incident for what it was. An attempt to murder.
And Stavros had known it, too.
“What do you feel about what happened?”
“I feel nothing, Dr. Lekkas.” A calm voice, too mature for one who wasn’t even eighteen. “It was exactly as her lawyers said, wasn’t it? A temporary lapse of sanity due to stress.” The boy looked at him. “You think the same too, don’t you, sir?”
You think the same, too, don’t you, sir? A single sentence that revealed two things. One was that Stavros Manolis was still suffering from shock and possibly post-traumatic stress disorder. Second was that Stavros, even though he looked like a man already, was still a child, and he wanted to believe that no mother would ever
desire to murder her own son.
Instead of answering, Dr. Lekkas changed the subject. “I’d like to talk you about the possibility that you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.”
When he was done speaking, Stavros only nodded. “I understand, sir.” And there was something about the way the boy spoke that told Dr. Lekkas he did. Stavros had understood Dr. Lekkas didn’t want to hurt him with the truth, and that was that his mother had been tempted to kill him.
They continued to meet over the years until Stavros was twenty-one years old, which was the last year required of him by the court to attend therapy.
Stavros had grown into a fine young man, one Dr. Lekkas was proud of. He saw Stavros as a son he never had, and on the last day of their meeting, Dr. Lekkas asked gruffly, “How do you feel about yourself now?”
He had asked the question because it had been the one thing that Stavros refused to speak of, not even once in the dozens of meetings they had.
In response, Stavros gave him the smile Dr. Lekkas had come to despair of. That smile, Dr. Lekkas had come to know, hid a great wealth of pain.
“I thank you for your concern, Dr. Lekkas, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m 21 now. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing, old enough to understand that nothing can be taken for granted.”
And that was when Dr. Lekkas had known he had failed. “Son…” The word slipped out before he could stop himself. He had never called Stavros that before.
A mask slipped over Stavros’ face, and Dr. Lekkas knew that Stavros was as good as rejecting him. After this, after his slip, he was also sure he would never see Stavros again. Because that was how Stavros coped.
He said abruptly, “I want to tell you a story before you go.” It’s my gift for you, son. He spoke the words in his mind, in his heart, and hoped that one day Stavros would choose to accept it.
Stavros nodded.
“I had a patient once, he was a lot younger than you when you first came. About twelve, if I recall correctly. He suffered from severe parental abuse and one night – this incident was what caused Social Services to take him away – 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.”
When he didn’t continue, Stavros asked flatly, “And?”
“The child closed his eyes,” Dr. Lekkas answered simply.
Stavros sucked in his breath. “But he didn’t die?”
Dr. Lekkas looked at Stavros straight in the eye. “The answer’s immaterial. When the child closed his eyes, he no longer cared. He had chosen to die.” He took a deep breath. “It’s pre-built in us to expect our parents’ love, and when that’s taken away, it cripples us. It destroys our sense of identity. It makes us question ourselves – do we deserve to live even when the very people who created us don’t want us?”
Stavros’ face had whitened. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because one day, I’m hoping that someone will make you realize that just because a man and a woman have successfully created a baby together – it doesn’t make them parents. And if two such people don’t end up loving their children – it doesn’t mean everyone will be the same.”
Stavros had not returned to his office after that.
Until now.
“Do you remember the last words you told me, Dr. Lekkas?” Stavros asked, and still that smile was playing on his lips.
Dr. Lekkas nodded. “Have you found such a person, Stavros?”
Stavros didn’t answer, but the silence was telling.
“When most people think of PTSD,” Dr. Lekkas murmured, “they usually think of people screaming, people having nightmares. But you know one little-known symptom of it?”
Stavros raised a brow.
Cocky bastard, Dr. Lekkas thought, but not without gruff fondness. He was pleased to see that despite everything, Stavros had not lost his arrogance.
“Why do you think you haven’t been to visit me all these years, Stavros?”
Color slashed in Stavros’ high-boned cheeks. “My apologies, Dr. Lekkas---”
The doctor shook his head. “It wasn’t a reprimand, son.”
Stavros flinched.
“It’s not your fault, either,” Dr. Lekkas said roughly. He looked at Stavros in the eye. “You’re still suffering from it. This is what most people don’t know about PTSD. That it can make you consciously and unconsciously avoid what could lead to the same event that traumatized you.”
“What your mother did that night – it was just the last straw, if you will. But what really traumatized you was the fact that you chose to trust in her love and she failed you. She destroyed your trust. And that’s why with me and…” Dr. Lekkas paused. “Whoever the person is that has made you to return to this office, you’ve chosen to leave instead of risking having your trust destroyed---”
“So what are you telling me now, Dr. Lekkas?” Stavros cut him off harshly. “That I should take the risk?”
“Yes.”
Stavros shook his head. “I can’t.” His voice was thin, his lips bloodless, and Dr. Lekkas’ chest tightened with pained empathy.
“Son---”
Stavros’ laugh was hollow. “I’m not afraid for myself, Dr. Lekkas. I just don’t think I myself am worth all the fucking trouble for another person to take on.”
“I won’t lie to you,” Dr. Lekkas answered quietly. “If you choose to take the risk, it will feel like you’re about to drown every day. Every night. The time may even come when you feel like you are drowning.”
“And then what?” Again, ah, again, that smile on Stavros’ lips. Dr. Lekkas hoped the day would come that the younger man would forget how to smile like that.
“Keep taking that risk even when you’re drowning---”
“Until my Princess Charming comes and rescues me, you mean?” Stavros mocked with unusual bitterness.
“Yes. Because that is the risk. That you have someone who’ll love you enough to risk drowning with you just to save you.”
Stavros’ face shuttered.
“You risked that with your parents,” Dr. Lekkas said gently. “Why is it hard for you to believe someone will do the same for you?”
* * *
Beverly Hills, California
Stavros was calling her again. She should block his number, put an end to their connection permanently. But weak piece of shit that she was, she just couldn’t do it. She was a masochist. She knew it now. She liked seeing Stavros calling her, liked pretending that it was because he had realized he was in love with her all along and he was now running after her.
“Ms. Somerset?”
The voice startled Willow into jerking up in her seat, where she had been dozing off for the past hour. For over a week now, the waiting area outside Charmaine’s room had been home. It had also been a place for her to stay out of sight, especially when her mother suffered from one of her psychotic breakdowns and wanted to kill her again.
Like now.
“Is she okay now?” Willow asked the nurse who had approached her.
“She’s stable,” was the exact reply. “If you visit her tomorrow, your mother may be less volatile by then.”
She shook her head. “I need to go back to Greece tonight. Could you give this to her when she wakes up?” At the nurse’s nod, she handed the letter to the other girl. “Thank you.”
Slowly, she turned back. As she started to walk away, she remembered the words she had written.
Dear Mom,
Thank you for being there for me.
I know, no matter what happens, you’ll always be there for me. That’s why whatever happens, I also want you to know I’ll always be there for you. I love you, Mom.
Always your baby girl,
Willow
Her steps faltered when she was about to step inside the elevator.
Shiiiiit.
The smart part of her knew that even i
f she left now, the words in her letter would remain true – that whatever Willow did, wherever she went, her mom would have her back.
However, the not-so-smart part of her disagreed. That part of her only wanted to stay here and keep hiding.
Stop being such a wimp, Willow Somerset, and get inside.
Gulping, Willow entered the elevator. Turning around, she watched the doors slowly slide close, and her heart raced and hammered as inch by inch the sight of her haven disappeared.
Once those doors closed, she would be on her own again.
Willow swallowed.
The doors slid shut and the elevator started to move.
She gasped, fear shooting up inside her. Willow’s back slammed against the wall and she covered her mouth, struggling to keep the sobs down. But it was impossible.
And even though she didn’t want to, she remembered…him.
No, please, no, I don’t want to remember---
But the memories refused to fade.
He was standing right outside the museum, beautiful and commanding.
Stavros.
The man she loved, the man who didn’t love her, the man who had looked at her like he didn’t understand why she could even think she had a right to exist in his life.
The tears started to fall.
She tried to claw at the walls to keep herself up, but she was already sliding down, falling to her knees inside the elevator.
Mom, I want to stop crying.
Please, Mom, please tell me how I can stop crying.
Chapter One
Yes, I can be jealous. Yes, I can be possessive.
But it’s only because there’s just one of you in the world, and I’d like you to be mine.
Love, Your Greek Billionaire