Dear Greek Billionaire Page 3

  Her determination to address him politely made Stavros lean bak against his chair, his intense gaze settling on her. “Why do you want this job so much?”

  Shiiiit. She was hoping that would come up much, much later. “About that…” She bent down, pulled out her proposal letter, and handed it to him.

  His eyebrows shot up when he realized what the document was about. “Basically, you’re saying you’re willing to work for free for the duration of the project Damen told you about…” His gaze slid back to her proposal. “And in exchange you want an introduction to the de Konighs?”

  “I know you’re good friends with Willem de Konigh.” She saw the look on his face and she shook her head, knowing what he was thinking. “I don’t want to marry him. Duh—”

  Another look.

  Shit. She had forgotten herself.

  “I mean, it’s not like that. I want to write a book about the royal family.” Her voice was vehement by the end. She couldn’t help it. This meant everything to her. “I just need one shot, Sta—Mr. Manolis, and I know I’ll be able to convince him to let me write about—”

  “No,” Stavros cut her off dispassionately. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you won’t.”

  “Excuse me?” Willow was more stunned than offended by the conviction in his tone.

  “If you think I’m stuffy,” he drawled.

  Willow flushed as she remembered the words she had thrown at him once upon a time.

  “Then you should know Willem’s ten times worse.”

  Oh. He really did have a point there, but…it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. She had to have this deal. “I…I…” But what was there to say to convince him to give her a shot?

  “I’m willing to bet my entire fortune that you’ll end up insulting him the first minute you’re in his company.”

  “I’m not that bad.” But she couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she uttered the lie.

  “Actually, you’re probably worse than I think.”

  She burst to her feet. “You…” But she caught herself in time, remembering belatedly that life and death was at stake. Willow forced herself back down to her seat.

  Impressive. The last time they had met, she hadn’t even a tenth of the control she was exerting now. “I can see how much this introduction means to you,” he acknowledged evenly. “And I do understand how that kind of deal could be quite a feat for Hamnet…” He ignored the flash of surprise in her eyes at hearing him mention her family’s publishing firm. He knew a lot about her, more than what was smart.

  “But…” He paused.

  Willow held her breath. “But?”

  Stavros held her gaze. “There’s something more, isn’t there?”

  Willow’s face became completely blank.

  And that, Stavros thought grimly, was answer enough for him. Voice harsh with regret, he said, “The fallout was worse than you let on, wasn’t it?”

  Chapter Two

  Dear Greek Billionaire,

  When I tell you something sad about myself, it’s not because I want a pity fuck. Maybe…

  I actually just want to talk to you?

  - The Art of Turning Down a Greek Billionaire

  Three months ago

  “You called for me?” Willow ventured upon entering her father’s office. She waited for William to gruffly tell her she looked ugly – his affectionate way of greeting her good morning – but he didn’t.

  Instead, her father’s face remained unsmiling. “Sit down, Willow.” He gestured her to come forward.

  Shiiiit. That tone was scary. Willow sat down, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs under her. She waited for William to growl, but he didn’t.

  Okay, that officially meant she was in extremely deep shit. Before she could ask, her father was already speaking.

  “The board’s come to a decision.”

  Willow stiffened. “A decision?” She didn’t even know there was one to make, and if there was, shouldn’t she have been part of it? She was one of the company’s major shareholders, after all.

  When her father didn’t speak right away, she asked in a puzzled tone, “You met without me? Was it when I was on leave—”

  “No. It was because…your aunt thought it appropriate, considering you were the one involved with the issue.”

  It wasn’t hard to figure out what the ‘issue’ was. A week ago, photos of her and Stavros Manolis at the basement parking had surfaced, printed by tabloids all over Europe.

  Remembering made her flinch. Those photos had a visceral feel to them, for lack of a better word, and that was putting it politely.

  “I know how the photos looked, but wasn’t Stavros’ statement enough?”

  Even now, merely saying his name made Willow want to disappear. Even now, she couldn’t accept how foolish she had been, thinking what they had was special.

  When the photos had gone out, she had fully expected Stavros would wash his hands of the issue completely. But instead he had done the opposite and acted swiftly.

  I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest and sincerest apologies to Ms. Willow Somerset and her family for this appalling incident. Ms. Somerset is an individual I respect and although we are no longer together, I still consider her a valued friend. I take full responsibility that her privacy has been grossly invaded because of the media’s interest in my life, and I promise that the people behind this will be made to pay.

  Funny how she had memorized those lines so easily, Willow thought painfully, even if none of it were true.

  No longer together? They hadn’t ever been together.

  A valued friend? They hadn’t even spoken or seen each other since that night.

  And yet, when she was feeling so dangerously down, she would read those words over and over, a part of her obsessed with the delusion that they meant something.

  “I’m afraid the board considers it the last straw.” Her father’s words jerked Willow out of the past.

  William expelled his breath in a tired fashion. “They think it’s not good for the company to have you as one of the public faces of Hamnet.” He added reluctantly, “It doesn’t help that what you did previous to it is still fresh in their minds.”

  Willow flushed more deeply. That incident was the reason why she had wanted to play the good girl the night of Damen and Mairi’s farewell party. “How would I know she didn’t have a sense of humor?”

  “Stop with the excuses, Willow.” William’s voice was heavy. “We both know you could have handled Elektra Onassis better, but no, you just had to be your usual tactless self.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know what to do with you anymore. I could have overruled their decision, I know, but right now, I think…it’s only right you take an indefinite leave of absence.”

  Willow paled at the finality of her father’s words. “Father—”

  He raised his hand to stop Willow from speaking. “You will not change my mind in this instance. The decision’s already been made and ratified by the board. As of today, you are temporarily relieved of your duties. You can do whatever you want, but I hope you use the time wisely and find out why you end up sabotaging yourself. You may not mind, but I do.”

  The bleakness in his gaze made her eyes sting, and that frightened her. “Sorry to disappoint you then,” she gritted out as she scrambled to her feet.

  Her haste made William stand up as well. “Willow—”

  “I’m not mad,” she said as she slid her feet into her shoes, still unable to look at him. “I just…” She didn’t know what to say and she turned away, hurrying to the door.

  Behind her, her father said, “I love you, Willow.”

  She stilled. She remembered. And she hated. Did he know how much she hated those words at times? Charmaine always told her that, and now, those words sometimes made her skin crawl.

  Love came with so many expectations, and she was tired of being crushed by the weight of it.

  “I just want you to stop hurting
yourself,” her father said. “It hurts me to see you hurting yourself so please, for your own sake, can’t you love yourself more and give yourself a real chance to reach your potential?”

  I want to. But I don’t know how. The only love I know was twisted and by the time you came into my life, it had already changed me for good.

  But she didn’t say the words. She couldn’t, knowing William would only blame himself unfairly. It wasn’t his fault Charmaine had lied to him about her pregnancy, wasn’t his fault Charmain suffered from depression and was psychotic.

  Of course, Willow also knew it wasn’t her fault either, but that was different. That was her sickness to deal with.

  She didn’t know how she managed to get to her car, but she did. She had probably walked past a number of executives on her way out and proved to all of them that she was as rude and obnoxious like everyone said when she hadn’t bothered to look their way. Probably. Who cared? She just wanted to…

  Willow started to drive.

  She just wanted to…

  Tires screeched as she made a sharp turn and her Volvo almost crashed into a post. She banged her fists against the wheel, harder each time, until her hands started to ache.

  Her phone started to ring. It was Stavros. Just looking at his name on the screen made her want to throw her phone out of the window. But that would mean she cared, and she didn’t. Right?

  “Hello.”

  “Willow.”

  Ah. That voice. The voice that once told her that she was beautiful. The same voice that told her he hoped never to see her again.

  “What is it?” She held on to the wheel, fingers tightening around it as she asked the question. She needed the feeling that she was holding on to something. She just felt if she let go, no one would be able to catch her. No one would even care to.

  “I just wanted to make sure everything’s all right on your end.” His voice was stiff with resolve. Nothing else.

  Ah, Greek men. Honor still meant everything to them. Her fingers gripped the wheel a fraction more tightly. “Yes,” she managed to say. “What you did was enough.”

  A pause. “I know how it is in our country. I am afraid it may affect how the males in your company may view you. You will let me know if there’s anything else I can do?”

  “I told you, it’s all good.” Her voice was sharp. She couldn’t help it. Her only choices were aggression or misery, and she’d never choose the latter.

  “I’m sorry for being concerned.” A cool retort.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it,” she answered nastily.

  “I’m glad to see your tongue remains sharp as ever.” Icy disdain now.

  “You must bring out the best in me.”

  “Goodbye, Willow.”

  Ah, God. Those words hurt. “Goodbye, motherfucker.” She hung up. He would never want to speak to her now. Just like her father probably thought he shouldn’t speak to her now.

  Willow closed her eyes and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Outside her window, cars still drove past her in a seemingly endless stream. The world was still turning, even if her own was crumbling.

  No job, no parent who was there for her, and no Stavros Manolis whom she thought could be someone important in her life.

  Was it like this for you, Mama? When you felt so down, did you just choose to give up?

  Even as she asked the question, she already knew the answer to it. Depression wasn’t a personal choice. It was a disease. A sickness, one Willow knew she was genetically predisposed to.

  She didn’t think she was depressed yet, but she could be. Your choice now, Willow. Keep fucking up your life, or fuck up everyone else’s by turning a new leaf?

  Chapter Three

  Dear Greek Billionaire,

  When I call you ‘sir’, it’s out of respect.

  It really has nothing to do with BDSM. Really.

  - The Art of Turning Down a Greek Billionaire

  Present time

  “Let me get this straight then,” Stavros said. “You told Elektra Onassis she couldn’t – and this is verbatim I believe – ‘it’s a good thing she’s so beautiful or else her stupidity would be the death of her?’”

  At Willow’s small nod, he asked incredulously, “Why would you even think she would find that flattering? No one appreciates being called an idiot to their face and in public.”

  “I meant it in a good way, okay?” Willow said defensively. “I really did. Because she was really beautiful—”

  “But stupid.”

  “But stupid,” she acknowledged.

  Stavros shook his head. “You see? You shouldn’t have agreed. She’s your client, Ms. Somerset. Or make that past tense since I’m sure she’s left your company after that incident.”

  “She did,” Willow said glumly.

  “And that’s why you were asked to take an indefinite leave?”

  “Yup,” Willow lied without batting an eyelash.

  “It had nothing to do with the photos?”

  “Yup.”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “Liar.” Looking at her, he could see that she was already having an internal debate on how to deny the charge. Shaking his head, he murmured, “Rule number one, Ms. Somerset. Never lie to me.”

  Willow’s head shot up. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she whispered.

  “Rule number two: my secretary never answers back.”

  And his would-be secretary promptly violated it when she burst out, “That’s impossible.”

  He almost smiled. Almost. But he made sure not to because it was important to establish the barriers between them early on. It was the only way he could let her work here, the only way he wouldn’t be tempted to do what he wanted to do to her.

  “Rule number three, Ms. Somerset.” He waited for her to look at him. “I’m always right, and you’re always wrong. I’m always the good guy and you’re…”

  She grimaced. “The bad guy?”

  “The person who supports the good guy,” he finished smoothly. “So if I say do you think I’m a bastard…”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  “Good.”

  She tried her best not to throw up.

  “Rule number four.” Stavros knew he was pushing it, but this was Willow, after all. “You’re to contact my friend and take her advice about a change in your wardrobe.” Although nothing would make him admit it, he did want her to get that publishing deal with Willem de Konigh. But that would only happen if he could train her to be a little more tactful and presentable than usual.

  Rule number four? Willow was half-disgruntled, half-incredulous. How many more rules were there? Would she really be able to stand this?

  And then she realized what he was asking. Was he saying he hated the way she dressed? She opened her mouth to protest—

  Stavros lifted a brow.

  She shut her mouth. Life and death. She needed this job more than he needed her as a secretary. Willow swallowed back her protest. “Yes, sir.”

  This time, Stavros allowed himself a smile. “Good girl.”

  The smile caught her by surprise, but those words…

  They transported her back to the hotel room, to that one night she had shared with him.

  It was one of so many firsts for Willow. The first time to want a man, the first time to be alone with a man, the first time to stand in front of a man in just her underwear and four-inch heels.

  All those firsts made everything more nerve-wracking, but the frank admiration in Stavros’ gaze made her feel like she was doing something right.

  And oh, the way his gaze roamed her body…

  ‘Beautiful.’

  Oh, that voice. That word. It made Willow blush head to toe, and she swallowed back an instinctive retort, wanting to please him more.

  Stavros’ lips curved in a smile. ‘Good girl.’

  “Willow?”

  Oh shit. Had she actually zoned out on him? Willow blinked several times and worked hard to r
esist the urge to check if she had ended up drooling in her daydream. Shiiiiit. Why did she have to think of that now?

  “Sorry,” she stammered. “I was just…” No, she better not explain. She mumbled, “Sorry, sir.”

  “It’s all right.” Stavros was puzzled, but he let it go.

  When he came to his feet, she hastened to do the same and tried not to stiffen when Stavros went around his desk to offer his hand.

  “Welcome aboard, Ms. Somerset. Please leave your résumé with the receptionist. There are a few more details to take care of, so expect several calls from her.”

  “Thank you, sir.” But for the life of her, she couldn’t make herself take his hand.

  Stavros frowned at the way his newly hired secretary was gazing at his hand like it was a snake about to bite her. “Willow?”

  Shit. Willow managed to take his hand for the quickest shake. It barely lasted a second, but even so, it was more than enough, making her body come alive like it only had that—

  Shit. She slammed a mental door shut on the thought. Apparently, she needed a better lock for Imaginary Door #3.

  When Willow started to speak, Stavros heard himself say, “Do you need a ride home?” As soon as he said it, he knew he had made a big mistake.

  A ride home? Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She thought about telling him how that wasn’t appropriate but remembered rule number three. He was the good guy, and she was supposed to make him look like the good guy at all times.

  “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I have a friend with me.”

  Stavros’ tone cooled. “I see.”

  She was more than confused by the tone. “Is it against another rule?”

  Color stained Stavros’ cheekbones at the genuine puzzlement in Willow’s words. “Not at all.” He checked his watch. “That’s about it, Ms. Somerset. I expect you to be here eight o’clock sharp tomorrow.”

  The sudden dismissal took her aback. Had she said or done something wrong? “Y-yes, sir.” She picked up her briefcase and hesitated. “Thank you again, Mr. Manolis.”