Dear Greek Billionaire Read online

  A chaotic mix of emotions bombarded her, but she refused to even think of them. A deferential bow – she had enough Greek blood in her to remember how to show respect to an employer – and then she was walking away as quickly as her legs could carry her.

  When she left, Stavros went back to his seat. He stayed there for a moment, resisting the urge…

  “Fuck it.” He pulled the keyboard tray out. A few clicks and he had accessed the CCTV cameras installed in his building’s lobby. Willow came out moments later from the elevator.

  Only when he saw a man seated in the lounge standing up and walking to greet Willow did Stavros realize he had been holding his breath the entire time.

  His jaw hardened at the sense of familiarity between them, intense dislike filling him as he watched the man press a hand to the small of Willow’s back after taking her briefcase. And the man’s hand fucking stayed there the whole time until a cab came and he was helping her inside—

  Willow’s upturned laughing face just before she disappeared into the cab made Stavros’ stomach turn.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  He had to eliminate these feelings before he started believing in the impossible.

  Stavros took out his phone and made a call. A moment later, a seductive voice answered, “Oh, darling boy, you actually called first. Should I die of shock?”

  He didn’t bother to mince words. “How soon before I can fuck your brains out, Cara?”

  Chapter Four

  Dear Greek Billionaire,

  No, I’m not making you so angry because I want you to kiss me. It just so happened I’m human and I make mistakes, too. That’s all.

  - The Art of Turning Down a Greek Billionaire

  “So…how do you find Florida so far?”

  “It’s great.”

  In Willow’s mind, she started composing words to describe their conversation.

  Stilted. Awkward. Must put an end to it immediately.

  She said quickly, “You have nothing to worry about, you know. Brad’s place is really nice and it’s close to the office.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about you living alone with an unmarried man under one roof.”

  “He’s harmless, I promise.”

  “I see.”

  She tried to think of more words to describe the conversation, hoping for something positive, but none came to mind.

  Hopeless. Painful. Must put an end to it immediately.

  Why had she even thought she could talk to him without breaking down?

  “Willow, I—”

  Her father’s strained tone made Willow squeeze her eyes shut. She knew he felt guilty, but that only made her feel guiltier. “I gotta go. I don’t want to be late for work. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Don’t stay up so late watching The Walking Dead, you promise?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I really gotta go, Dad. Bye.”

  She hung up.

  Words she didn’t want to think about flooded her mind.

  Rude. Merciless. Must not have ended it like that.

  Across her, Brad slowly clapped his hands. “You deserve an Oscar for that.” He smirked. “Not.”

  With his dirty blond hair, tanned skin, and athletic build, Brad Powell looked more like a professional surfer or even a professional couch potato. But in reality, he was a law school student turned indie game designer, the only friend Willow had made her whole life.

  Willow collapsed on the sofa bed, which was basically her share in Brad’s studio apartment. “Shut up.”

  She grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her face. “God, I’m so stupid.” Her voice came out muffled. She felt like hiding her face from the entire world. She had wanted to come across as mature to William, but instead she had ended up making it worse.

  More garbled words. Brad shook his head. “What?”

  Willow lowered the pillow. “I said I just didn’t know what to say.”

  When she had made the call, she had planned to tell her father all sorts of things. Like how excited she was at being one step closer to her plans and how she wanted him to see her research about the de Konighs.

  But the moment she heard her father’s voice, all she could think of were more words she couldn’t ever say. If I get this publishing deal, will you be proud of me? If I fail, will you still take me back?

  Brad sighed when he saw the pillow had gone back up. “Stop that. You’re not a kid.”

  Even as she threw the pillow at him, Willow was already wailing, “I know.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and Willow lowered the pillow again. A visitor at six in the morning?

  “I’m not expecting anyone,” Brad answered her silent question. “You?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe a friend of yours?”

  He gave her a look.

  “Right, I forgot. I’m your only friend.”

  “Back atcha,” Brad said mildly as he got up from the couch.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re not even putting a shirt on?” Living the last few years in Greece had totally changed her, Willow thought. Who would’ve thought a Beverly Hills kid like her would be scandalized at the idea of Brad answering the door bare-chested?

  Brad was talking in a low voice, but she couldn’t quite make the words out. A moment later, Brad half-turned towards her, saying, “Your boss is here.”

  “My boss?” she echoed blankly.

  “Are you an idiot?” He snorted. “Your Greek billionaire boss, Stavros Manolis.”

  She tripped, twice, just to get to the door. Peeking under Brad’s arm, she saw…

  Brad started laughing.

  “JERK!” She was so incensed she couldn’t help punching him as hard as she could on the arm.

  Grunting, he closed the door, a special delivery package tucked under his arm. “But you get it now, don’t you?”

  “Get what?” She looked at him over her shoulder with a scowl.

  Tossing the package on the dining table, he said easily, “You still like him.”

  The truth in those words hit her, and she almost tripped again. “You’re crazy.” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  It took her over an hour to shower, get dressed, and gulp down a huge glass of vegetable shake. By the time she was done, she was almost running late.

  Looking up from his laptop, Brad gaped at Willow’s complete transformation. “That’s what he wants you to wear?”

  Willow froze at the look on her friend’s face. “That bad?”

  Slowly, Brad shook his head. That wasn’t it at all. He had actually expected the billionaire to dress Willow like a doll, maybe push her to her limits and vamp up her sex appeal.

  Manolis hadn’t even had her wear a skirt or heels. Instead, she had on a nice-fitting striped blouse, slim black slacks, and a pair of elegant gray oxfords. And the result was…pretty. Willow looked pretty and professional, the kind of woman who could be trusted with a business deal and charm the socks off anyone.

  Did she know what that meant? Did the billionaire? Brad thought not.

  “You know what?”

  In the middle of picking up her beloved briefcase from the floor, Brad’s pensive tone stopped her from moving. “What?”

  “I’ve got a feeling he still likes you, too,” Brad said simply.

  With those words, it became official. “Fuck you, Brad.” She officially hated Brad Powell for life. He was too good at messing her up.

  Even when she was already at the sixty-fifth floor, reporting for her first day at work, Willow still couldn’t get Brad’s words out of her mind.

  “Good morning, Ms. Somerset,” said the blonde robot Manolis Inc. employed as a receptionist.

  Willow stopped dead in her tracks. “You’re smiling. A system upgrade?”

  The smile widened.

  This time, Willow was seriously shocked, and she asked suspiciously, “You’re planning something evil behind that beautiful face, aren’t you?”

  Stavros�
�� executive receptionist laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s one of Mr. Manolis’ rules.”

  Rules again, Willow thought.

  Irona – rather, the receptionist - laughed harder. “Oh gosh, your face. I can totally read it. He’s not that bad really.” Walking towards Willow, the tall blonde tapped the nameplate pinned to her silver-colored frock. “I’m Ashley.” She stuck out her hand. “And of course you’re Willow.”

  Willow shook Ashley’s hand. “I won’t lie. I’m confused as hell.”

  “Don’t be,” Ashley said as she walked back to the reception counter, an architectural beauty in itself with its marble and glass body. “The first day I worked for Mr. Manolis, he asked that I never trust anyone, never even show emotion until he tells me it’s okay.”

  Another smile on the glossy pink lips. “And after you left, he said you’re okay.”

  Oh. She was okay. Shiiiiit. Why did those words make her so happy? Before Willow could determine the source of her insanity, Ashley’s intercom buzzed.

  “Yes, Mr. Manolis? Yes, she’s already here. Understood.” Putting the intercom down, Ashley pointed to the door. “The boss wants you.”

  Double shit. The boss wanted her. Why did that sound so naughty? She did a mental shake of her head. Life and death, Willow Somerset. Now is not the time to lose your head over Stavros Manolis. Again.

  When she entered the office, her boss was scowling mad. And the worst thing about that? A furious Stavros in her biased eyes was sexy as hell.

  He was dressed entirely in black, from his business suit to his tie. The only other color was his white silk shirt. Brad’s words screamed in her mind, but she closed Imaginary Door #4 to keep it out as she mumbled, “Good morning, Mr. Manolis.”

  “You’re late.” Stavros’ voice was clipped.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Be late another time and I’ll fire you.”

  Her head shot up. “But—”

  Stavros lifted a brow. Go on. Break one of my rules by answering back.

  God, that eyebrow, Willow thought. It would be her greatest dream to nail it in place. Life and death, Willow. The reminder had her swallowing. “I understand, sir.”

  “Good.” Stavros knew he should stop staring at his secretary, but it was easier said than done. One look at Willow, and he knew the night he had spent with Cara hadn’t done him any good. He still wanted her. More than ever.

  She had always looked beautiful in his eyes, but now, with her clothes perfect for her…

  His wasn’t the only head she’d be turning today, and the knowledge almost made him regret his earlier decision to change her appearance.

  Stavros was still looking at her, Willow realized uneasily. She knew it. Brad had lied to her! “The clothes look shitty on me, don’t they?”

  Stavros tore his gaze away and pretended to check his watch, a large-faced Panerai that had the same price as a brand new car. Not looking at Willow, he said curtly, “It doesn’t.” Lowering his arm, he only glanced back at her when he was sure he had himself under control. “Also, you’re not to say ‘shitty’ during office hours.”

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  Up went the brow.

  She shut her mouth. Life and death, Willow. Life and death.

  Stavros nearly smirked at the frustration visibly seething in his secretary’s blue-green eyes. Taking pity on her, he changed the subject, saying, “I have an early meeting today and I’d like you to take notes for me. You can do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In German?”

  “Piece of cake.”

  He had to smile at that. “A little conceited there, aren’t you?”

  “It’s one of my few proven talents,” she admitted easily. “Sir.”

  Ah. “At least you’re honest.” Stavros walked to the other side of the room, right next to the wine bar. He pressed a button, and the deceptive-looking walls slid open, revealing his private elevator.

  Willow was impressed. “So dope.”

  He almost smiled. She was just too…genuine. If he weren’t careful, he’d end up finding it more refreshing than worrying.

  Stepping inside, he turned around and found her still in his office. Pressing the hold button, he lifted a brow. Well?

  She hurried inside. “Do you know, Mr. Manolis?”

  Another raised eyebrow. What?

  “You’ve got the most expressive eyebrows.”

  He almost, almost laughed.

  They looked at each other.

  The doors slid closed.

  And just like that, the mood between them changed because…she remembered. And when she looked at him unthinkingly, she saw to her horror that he remembered, too.

  Chapter Five

  Dear Greek Billionaire,

  As your secretary, the assets I speak of are the skills I bring to the job. Please stop thinking my body is included in that list and that it’s yours to command.

  - The Art of Turning Down a Greek Billionaire

  Willow desperately lifted her gaze up to the elevator’s ceiling, trying to think of words to describe it. Lacquered frame. Intricate floral design. And a terribly ineffective distraction.

  Eep!

  Stavros’ fists clenched against his side. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He didn’t care how it would seem to Willow or anyone else, but after this, he would never get inside an elevator with her alone. It was just too…dangerous.

  Both of them charged forward the moment the doors opened, causing them to bump into each other unexpectedly. The brush of their bodies against each other had them freezing, her breasts pressing ever so softly against his chest.

  SHIT, Willow shrieked in her mind.

  FUCK, Stavros hissed in his.

  Another second and they jumped apart from each other. In front of them, guests and employees in the vast lobby quickly looked away.

  Stavros recovered first. “Ms. Somerset, follow me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Stavros’ long-legged stride had her lagging behind a great distance in mere moments, and she hurried after him. Willow winced as she heard people talking about them, and she winced even more when she heard her name being mentioned.

  Shiiiiit. She was so stupid to think those photos of her and Stavros wouldn’t have made it across the continent. He was Stavros Manolis, one of the world’s few Greek billionaires of his age who hadn’t yet been tied down.

  Outside the building, Willow was astonished when Stavros’ retinue of bodyguards automatically formed a protective half circle around them. Stavros conferred with one of them for a while before nodding at her, indicating that she should follow him to the car.

  A chauffeur opened the door for her, and at Stavros’ nod, Willow quickly stepped inside.

  Following her inside the limousine, Stavros took the seat across his secretary. The slightly dazed look on Willow’s face made him raise an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be used to this after working with Damen?”

  She shook her head. “He wasn’t a billionaire then, remember?”

  “I see.” He had forgotten that fact. “Well, you’ll get used to it eventually.”

  She nodded.

  He raised an eyebrow. No arguments?

  “I’m trying to be obedient,” she explained. “Sir.”

  He barked in laughter, the sound a little rusty. In truth, the only times he could remember himself laughing when he was…with her.

  And he didn’t want to think about that at all.

  “The client we’ll be meeting with is, to be perfectly blunt, a chauvinist. A good man, but with extremely old-fashioned views of women.” He could see in her face that she was dying to say something.

  With a sigh, he said, “I’m certain I’m going to regret this, but speak your mind.”

  She didn’t waste the chance. “He’s even more chauvinistic than you are?”

  Stavros closed his eyes. “Do you know how many rules you violated there?”

  “Probably all, but…” She had read about Stavros and in most of
the articles, he had not denied the fact that his ideal woman was one who’d take pleasure in being his wife alone.

  “Yes,” he said finally. “He is more old-fashioned than I am.”

  “What a dinosaur,” Willow muttered under her breath.

  Stavros winced. “Ms. Somerset.”

  It was her turn to wince. She was beginning to understand that when he called her by her last name, it was usually before—

  “Rule number five: you are never to insult our clients.”

  —she got her head chewed off.

  “Roger that, sir.”

  “Rule number six: no cheeky answers either—” He raised his hand when she was about to protest again. “—if we have company.”

  She flashed him a sweet smile. “My eternal gratitude for your leniency, boss.”

  He should fire her now, really. It was becoming clearer by the second that he would have more than his hands full training her. And that was the least of his problems, he knew. The greater problem was a certain part of his anatomy, one that never failed to find Willow’s displays of impertinence…arousing.

  Fire her now and be done with it, Stavros told himself.

  “Ms. Somerset?”

  “Mm…” Willow was rummaging for something in her briefcase. “Aha!” She pulled out a small notepad, flipped it open, and showed it to him. “Hit me with it, boss.”

  He thought about telling her that wasn’t a proper way to talk to him but decided against it. What was the point? “Hit you with what?”

  A winsome smile. “Rule number seven. You thought I didn’t take it seriously, didn’t you?” She waved the notepad at him. “I have it all listed down here. Well, okay, not all. You just added two new rules a while ago…” Her head bent as she wrote it down.

  A second later, she was smiling at him again. “So. Rule number seven?”

  Ah, fuck.

  How the fuck was he going to fire her now?

  “Rule number seven, which is something any employee should know.”

  Her forehead furrowed. “I can’t think of any.”

  “Get to the office before your employer, and make sure you have my coffee ready when I get there.”