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Dear Greek Billionaire
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Dear Greek Billionaire
(The Greek Billionaire & His Secretary Book 1)
by Marian Tee
About Dear Greek Billionaire
Were bosses allowed to look at their secretaries that way?
27-year-old Stavros Manolis urgently needed a secretary of a certain caliber, but the only one who met his standards was a troublesome young woman who flouted authority whenever she could. She grated on his nerves, but she also made his blood quicken the way no woman had, not even the one he had once loved and lost.
24-year-old Willow Somerset knew she couldn’t afford to antagonize her Greek billionaire boss, but she couldn’t help it. He was so damn perfect, and she hated it. But what she hated more was the way her body could only come alive in his arms.
Willow knew she could never have a chance with Stavros. But then she caught him looking at her – in a way a boss should never look at his secretary.
Could that be what she thought it was?
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Dear Greek Billionaire
(The Greek Billionaire & His Secretary Book 1)
by Marian Tee
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.
Prologue
Athens, Greece
11 Years Ago
Sixteen may be a sweet age for girls, but for guys? Especially guys like him that had no choice over being the subject of custody fights and legal battles over inheritances? Sixteen was a shitty age because it meant he was too young to make decisions for himself…but too old to find bliss in ignorance.
Fuck sixteen, Stavros thought. He wasn’t the type to swear, but right now, he had to. He wasn’t the type to lose his temper either, but he was close to doing so now.
He was tired of being locked in a hotel, prevented from seeing his parents and not being told why.
He just wanted to go back home.
“I hope you don’t take this against your grandfather,” the solicitor, Mr. Doukas, said quietly. “His only wish was for you not to be taken advantage of.”
Stavros nodded. His grief over his grandfather’s unexpected demise was still raw, and only his love and respect for the old man kept him from being completely bitter.
Christophe had loved him dearly. If his grandfather thought it was essential for Stavros to be kept away from his parents from the moment of his passing, Stavros was certain there was a reason for it.
Mr. Doukas hesitated, wondering what else he could say or do to prepare the teenage boy for what he was about to see. Despite Stavros’ commanding height and built, he was, in the end, an innocent child. A well-mannered, studious, and compassionate one even, which was a miracle, considering who his parents were.
As the family solicitor for over thirty years, Mr. Doukas was more than familiar with the inner workings of the Manolis clan. Its former patriarch, Christophe, had been a widowed workaholic. It caused his only son, Giorgio, to grow up weak and spoiled, a hedonistic man who thought he had the right to experience every type of pleasure, from exotic recreational drugs to ménages and sexual explorations with his own sex.
Giorgio’s wife was no better. Born to a middle-class family, Edith had clawed her way to the top of the corporate ladder using her brains and body. She had gotten herself pregnant purely to trap Giorgio into marriage, knowing the Manolis patriarch would not stand for his grandson to be born out of wedlock. But no sooner had rings been exchanged than she started having affairs and spending Manolis money like s
he had been born into it.
Not blind to his son and daughter-in-law’s faults, Christophe had issued an ultimatum to the two on his grandson’s first birthday. Maintain the façade of a happy family or be cut out of my will.
But now that Christophe was dead, even Mr. Doukas knew it was only a matter of time before the façade completely crumbled. His late client had known it, too, which was why the old man had taken certain precautions to prevent Stavros from being a pawn.
Just before entering the courtroom, Stavros paused. Not looking at the solicitor, he asked quietly, “Why are they having a custody battle when they aren’t even separated?”
The question made Mr. Doukas grim. “I wish I knew what the right words to say in this situation, Stavros. But all I can tell you is that your grandfather loved you very much. You were the joy of his last years in life, and all of this is simply meant to ensure you lead a happy life.”
The entrance they used to the courtroom led them to a small private room with a two-way mirror that allowed them to view the proceedings without being seen. As Stavros took a seat, he was disconcerted to find his father in the witness stand.
“He’s not in any trouble, is he?” Stavros had to ask. Giorgio was more than his father. He was also his best friend.
“Not in the way you think,” Mr. Doukas answered.
Sounds from the courtroom came through the speakers, making Stavros feel uneasy. It was almost like he was wiretapping a conversation.
“Mr. Manolis,” the judge intoned, “please recount your testimony regarding the actions of your wife, Ms. Edith Manolis, née Agne.”
Stavros’ father started to speak.
At first, Stavros thought it had to be a joke. But when his father kept on talking, his voice taking a whining tone that Stavros had never heard from Giorgio, cold sweat started to envelop him.
Disbelief had him staring almost blankly at the man in the witness stand, a man he thought he knew. The father he knew was a loving and responsible man, devoted to his wife and child. So why was his father saying such lies? Why was Giorgio speaking like a crass sailor?
“That whore—” Giorgio pointed an accusing finger towards his own wife, who was seated in the front row. “—has forced me to live a life of embarrassment, with the way she takes her lovers to our own bed.”
Edith’s derisive laugh made Stavros pale even more. The woman he knew as his mother had been kind, never saying a single bad thing about anyone.
Rolling her eyes at her husband of almost two decades, she retorted, “At least I’m no fag!”
Giorgio’s face turned purple in rage as he shot to his feet. “LIAR! Take that back, bitch!”
The judge had to pound his gavel when the two went into a slinging match, shouting accusations at each other.
Everyone knows you’re stupid, Giorgio. That’s why your own father hasn’t appointed you as the CEO.
We all know you can’t buy class. That’s why you’re still you, Edith.
Stavros was frozen in his seat as the accusations continued. Shame and shock tore into him. Denial made his head whirl. Those were not his parents. They could not be his parents. Someone had to be making Giorgio and Edith say such words – it had to be that!
“Order in the court!” A final warning, issued by the judge, had both parties finally quieting down. After, he invited Stavros’ mother to take the other witness stand. “I would like to hear both of your opinions regarding the next issue.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Edith murmured.
“The person who will have sole custody of Stavros Manolis, who is both your son, shall also be his sole provider. No reimbursements shall be made regarding his expenses.”
Edith and Giorgio’s faces reflected similar shock.
“Mr. Manolis, would you like to say anything about your ability to look after your son?”
Giorgio cleared his throat. “I, ah, I do not think I have the ideal temperament to be a responsible parent towards my son.”
The judge simply nodded. “Mrs. Manolis, would you have anything to say about your ability to take responsibility for your son’s upbringing?”
“Your Honor, I’m not, umm, financially prepared for it.”
They weren’t saying it outright, but they didn’t have to. The judge knew what they were saying. So did the rest of the people in the courtroom, judging by the awkward looks everyone was exchanging.
Stavros was beginning to understand, too.
He was beginning to understand that neither of his parents wanted him around if he would end up costing them money. He was also beginning to understand that his entire life had been a sham. That his very parents had been a sham.
“Duly noted,” the judge said simply. “And now, the last part of the proceedings is somewhat unorthodox, but it will be done on the express wish of the late Christophe Manolis. Although the parent seen fit for sole custody will not receive any reimbursement for Stavros’ expenses, she or he will, however, receive a monthly stipend of one hundred thousand dollars until Stavros reaches the age of majority, after which the monthly stipend shall cease. The parent with custody shall then be paid one final lump sum of one hundred million dollars.”
Behind him, Mr. Doukas asked quietly, “Stavros, do you understand now?”
Stavros was completely numb. “Yes.” Somehow, he managed to stand and walk to the other door, which would lead him straight inside the courtroom. He wanted his parents to see him, wanted them to know that he knew, wanted his parents to show shame.
“Stavros,” Mr. Doukas called out when he saw the boy reach for the knob.
Stavros stilled.
“Are you sure about this?”
His answer was to turn the knob and step inside the courtroom. The hearing had already been adjourned and people were getting ready to leave.
“Stavros?” Edith was the first one to notice him, and at the mention of his name, Giorgio’s head snapped in his direction. His face broke into a smile. “Stavros, my boy!”
Stavros started to feel sick. “No!” He hated, he fucking hated the way his voice shook when his parents started towards him, and they were so damn in sync that they had even clasped hands upon approaching him.
“I know everything,” he heard himself say. “I was here the entire time. There’s no use pretending.”
His parents released each other’s hands.
They looked at each other.
And then—
Both of them frantically started talking at the same time.
“Tell the judge you want to live with me, Stavros,” Edith urged. “I’ll buy you a new car.”
“Come stay with me, son. I’ll give you your own house and you can do anything you want. You don’t even have to go to school!”
Stavros felt even sicker as he listened to their words. He looked at his parents, their faces now familiar in a terrible and painful sense. He had lived with his parents all these years, and he had never seen through them.
In front of him, his parents were still trying to outdo each other with their promises.
Stavros abruptly turned away and started for the exit, walking as fast as he could, knowing he had little time left. His stomach turned upside down when he heard his parents frantically calling his name.
“Stavros, let’s talk about this!”
“Stavros, you know it’s better to live with me!”
So many words, but none of it was about wanting him to be with them because he was their son.
Stavros made it to the closest restroom in time and promptly threw up.
When he came out, ashen-faced, he saw the solicitor waiting for him outside, surrounded by a dozen bodyguards. There was no sign of his parents.
“They’re gone,” Mr. Doukas said, correctly interpreting the boy’s gaze.
“Good.” Stavros’ voice was unusually hard.
“Your grandfather feared that when he was gone, you would be exposed to an unsuitable environment. It is his wish that you instead file for emancipat
ion. He’s taken steps to ensure it will happen.”
In other words, his grandfather thought Stavros was better off living alone. That there was no one in the world to trust, not even the people whom he thought loved him.
Mr. Doukas hesitated. “Your grandfather only wanted what’s best for you.”
“Did he?” Stavros asked flatly. “Or did he simply want to ensure his empire lived on, with me as the future CEO?”
The solicitor was dismayed. “It wasn’t like that—”
“Can you deny, Mr. Doukas, that my grandfather was a workaholic? That the reason why my grandmother died of depression was because he spent more time in his office instead of taking care of his marriage? Can you tell me he wasn’t so obsessed with work he seemed to have forgotten he had a son to raise?”
The moment the words came out, Stavros was filled with shame. He owed his grandfather more respect than that. “I’m sorry,” he forced himself to say. “I apologize, Mr. Doukas. I do not mean you or my grandfather any disrespect.”
No one was at fault, not his grandfather, not his parents. No one but him, for being so foolish and thinking he had a perfect life and perfect parents.
No one was perfect. No one was to be trusted. The sooner he understood that, the better.
Seven Years Ago
Beverly Hills, California
Yes! In her mind, seventeen-year-old Willow Somerset was pumping her fist in the air. She was that overjoyed to see Charmaine, her mother, busy chatting on the phone as she entered the dining room.
Trying not to draw attention to herself, she walked silently inside, head down, hoping to make it to the kitchen without—
“Oh, she’s here.”
That.
Charmaine’s heavily fringed blue-green eyes settled on her. Those eyes were the only characteristic Willow shared with her mother. If not for it, she would have seriously believed she was adopted.