The Art of Wedding a Greek Billionaire Read online

  Mairi’s fingers curled against his shirt, now wet with her tears. She so wanted to believe Damen. And she almost did. Almost. She asked haltingly, “Why have you never asked me if the baby is…yours?”

  A pained smile curved on Damen’s cruelly beautiful lips, and his voice was made hoarse by his regret and humility as he said, “Because I have always been the one who lied in our relationship. Never you.” He swallowed, remembering the time when Mairi had admitted to him that she had fallen in love with him at first sight. “Not even when it would have been better for you to lie.”

  ****

  Esther Leventis’ blood chilled at the underlying note of furious panic in Yehor Kokinos’ voice when he answered her call. He always sounded in control whenever they talked, a man who knew he had absolute power in his ever-increasing world. But now he sounded exactly the opposite.

  “I hope I did not catch you in a bad time, but this is important.” They had not talked in over two weeks, long enough to have her worried. Enough to have Esther swallow her pride and call him first. “The hearing is coming up soon, Yehor. We have not yet discussed—”

  “I don’t have time for your petty problems,” Yehor said, cutting her off.

  “A potential merger that could make us a monopoly of the industry is not petty!”

  Yehor’s temper snapped. “You’re right! It’s not petty when it should have been. I should have known you would be incapable of keeping your son in line. After all,” he added in disgust, “if you couldn’t do it with your husband—”

  “How dare you?” Esther screeched, never failing to feel livid whenever the topic of her deceased husband was introduced.

  “I dare because we both know that your son has always been the real brains behind your company. Short-term gains were all you could bring, while your son has always been the one credited for Leventis’ long-term growth. You brought more profit by squeezing money out of your suppliers and employees, but that can only give you a paltry few millions at best.”

  Esther’s fingers tightened around the receiver, her body shaking with mute rage. “If you don’t stop being rude, I swear—”

  “You swear what? You have already done your worst to your son, but he’s survived it. So what can you still do, Esther?” he jeered. Cursing the woman in his mind, he muttered almost to himself, “I should have known better than to trust you. If I hadn’t gotten myself embroiled in your stupid plans, I would have seen it coming. Someone is trying to take my company away—” Yehor bit off the rest of his words, knowing he had already said too much.

  But it was already too late.

  “Who could take your company away from you?” Esther asked sharply, her question prompted not by concern over Yehor but more for his ability to keep his bargain with her.

  “Forget I said anything,” Yehor said curtly and slammed the phone down.

  But Esther could not forget, and the feeling of something bad persisted inside her. She was not a suspicious woman by nature. She relied only on facts and never on feelings, but she also knew she would be dumb to ignore what her instincts were telling her.

  Someone knocked on her door, and before she could demand who it was, the door burst open, Cimon Onassis pushing past Esther’s harried-looking secretary.

  A sick feeling formed in her stomach. Cimon Onassis was the president of the company’s accounting department as well as being the man she had bribed to doctor certain accounts so that everything would show in her favor and not Damen’s.

  “Something’s come up,” Cimon said abruptly as he stopped in front of Esther Leventis’ desk.

  “You can go,” Esther told her secretary sharply.

  The moment the door closed behind Esther’s secretary, Cimon said, “We have a problem. My secretary has not come to work for over a week now.”

  Esther scowled. “And this is my problem because?”

  “—she may have incriminating evidence against us,” Cimon finished flatly.

  Esther whitened at the implications. If Cimon’s secretary ever went to Damen, it could be all over. “Find her. I don’t give a damn what you have to do, but you must find her and make sure she doesn’t speak. Permanently.”

  Cimon’s eyes widened, realizing the meaning behind Esther’s words. “You can’t be serious—”

  “It’s either that or we both go down.”

  Cimon stared at Esther for a long moment, waiting and wishing for her to change her mind and leaving only when it was obvious she wasn’t going to. This was too much, Cimon thought to himself, fear causing his hand to tremble as he pressed the button for the elevator at the executive floor to open its doors.

  His gaze strayed to Damen Leventis’ office, which had been padlocked since the day he had been voted out by the board. Was a seat at the board worth risking his life? Was it worth risking Damen’s wrath on him when the latter found out what Cimon had done?

  Alone in her office, Esther could feel an invisible noose around her neck tightening ever slowly, as if controlled by a cruelly taunting Damen. The thought made her hiss. “No!” Esther sent papers on her desk flying with an angry sweep of her hand.

  Impossible, she told herself. None of this was the work of Damen. Her son might be more cunning than most, but he was also dirt poor right now. A man without the resources he had grown up with and been long used to.

  Forcing herself to think methodically like she always did, Esther considered her steps, considered her nemesis, and came to a decision.

  Thirty minutes later, she was seated in the backseat of her limousine, parked near the gates of Damen’s house. The property was the only one that the bank hadn’t been able to take away from her son. If only they had, Esther thought. Maybe he would be less proud and more inclined to surrender.

  Per her orders, Esther’s chauffeur stepped out of the limousine and opened the door for her when he saw a cab come to a stop in front of the gate. His employer’s son and daughter-in-law stepped out.

  Esther’s face was a picture of remorse when she approached Damen. “May we speak privately?”

  Damen looked at Drake, and the other man nodded, murmuring to Mairi, “I believe it would be safer if we have you inside now.”

  Mairi shook her head, her gaze trained at Damen, the cold fury in his face worrying her. The anger was well-deserved, but Mairi also knew that such anger only hurt Damen more than it did Esther. The other woman simply did not have any kind of maternal instinct at all while Damen, albeit appearing strong and powerful, was no different from any son. Damen had always wanted a parent’s love, and the fact that his parents were incapable of it would always make a part of him blame himself for it.

  Damen frowned at Mairi’s silent refusal. “Don’t be disobedient now, matakia mou.”

  She bit her lip, almost blurting out that she wasn’t being disobedient. She was only worried about him. Finally, she said, “I’ll go inside if you promise Drake gets to stay here with you.”

  Both men turned to her incredulously.

  Not looking at Esther, Mairi kept her gaze at her husband as she said stubbornly, “I want him to make sure that you’re not hurt.”

  Esther let out a gasp. “Damen, would you really let her insinuate that I could hurt you?”

  Damen didn’t bother answering, didn’t even glance at his mother. His eyes bored through Mairi, as if telling her how silly her words were. If you do not want me hurt, you should fire him right away.

  She colored at the silent message in his gaze but insisted, “I mean it. I don’t want her to make you lose sight of everything we’ve worked so hard for.”

  Seeing the set jaw on Mairi’s face, Damen knew there was no changing his wife’s mind. He said reluctantly, “Fine. Go in now and Morrison will stay with me.”

  Drake deadpanned, “I have never babysat for an ex-billionaire before, but I will do my best.”

  In the same tone, Damen answered, “Go to hell.”

  Esther had to exert a conscious effort not to speak. It offended her
how the men appeared to lavishly pamper the slut her son had married. She was no one. No one! Why was it that none of these supposedly smart men understood that?

  Damen waited for the doors to close behind Mairi before turning back to face Esther. “Why are you here?”

  Genuine contrition was an emotion foreign to her, but Esther’s survival instincts made her strive to mimic it as she raised her hand in an appealing gesture to Damen. “This war between us is senseless. I see it now, Damen.” She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. Trying again, she murmured, “I realize I was wrong to not let you explain yourself—”

  A mirthless laugh slipped past his lips. “We both know there is nothing for me to explain. I have always acted for the good of the company—” His lip curled in distaste. “—despite the false evidence presented against me.”

  “I can make the evidence disappear—”

  His tone bored, he cut her off, saying, “Please don’t, Mother. I’m having too much fun now. It would be my greatest pleasure to rip your side’s evidence into pieces and expose it for the lies they truly are.”

  Panic stirred inside Esther at Damen’s words. “We can still work together on this—”

  “Enough.” Weariness hit him, and Damen shook his head, a dismissive gesture that stung Esther’s pride. “It’s too late, Mother. You need to go. I cannot afford any kind of threat now.” He paused. “I don’t have just a wife to protect. I have an unborn child to keep safe as well.”

  Any hope of reconciliation was lost as Esther gazed at Damen’s face, unable to see even a slightest hint of softening. The invisible noose around her neck tightened to the point that she felt like she could no longer breathe. Panic and frustrated rage had her ignoring her common sense, and she screamed, “You are really going to choose that slut over me?”

  Damen’s lips tightened. “Call her that one more time—”

  “Slut!”

  He exploded, “She isn’t that. You are!”

  “How dare you?” Esther screeched. “I gave birth to you! You owe your life to me—”

  “If I could pay it back, I would,” he snarled back. “If I could have a choice of who my mother would be, I’d rather pick someone who didn’t have a single cent to her name—”

  Esther laughed coldly. “But you can’t, can you? And no matter what you do, it’s like I have always told you. You will always be my son, and you will always be bound—”

  “Leventis.” Drake stepped forward. “I think this is what your wife does not want you to be a part of. It would be better if you go and follow her inside.”

  When Esther Leventis started to speak, Drake snapped his fingers, and out came the security agents that Damen had hired. He said politely, “I’m afraid you are in danger of trespassing, Mrs. Leventis. If you do not leave the premises in a minute, these men have the wherewithal to make you leave and, if necessary, have you arrested as well.”

  When the woman seemed to be preparing herself to scream, Drake added evenly, “If you think my men are the type to play nice, Mrs. Leventis, you will find yourself sadly wrong.”

  Esther scanned the faces of the men around her and knew that Damen’s bodyguard wasn’t lying. Who the hell was this nobody anyway, and how dare he talk to her like they were of equal footing? Lifting her chin, she whirled around and walked back to her limousine, knowing it was better to concede this battle. There was still the war for her to win anyway, and if Damen thought she had shown all her aces already, she would soon prove him wrong.

  As her chauffeur drove her back home, Esther took out her phone from her purse and made a call.

  “Mrs. Leventis?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Alina…no, no, I’m not calling you on behalf of your father.” She paused, as if having a hard time speaking. “I need your help about Damen. You may be the only one to make him see the danger he’s in because of the woman he married.”

  Chapter Ten

  She said: Secrets abound when you wed a Greek billionaire.

  He said: But not all of them are the bad sort.

  She said: I disagree. Every secret is bad, but you probably won’t ever see it my way. You’re a Greek billionaire, Damen – and not an ordinary one at that. There’s not a day that a part of me isn’t terrified you’ll suddenly realize I’m not good enough for you and so the secrets…they make me insecure. Because I love you so much—

  (Editor’s note: To be continued tomorrow. Couple had sex. Again.)

  “Hit me with it.” The words came from Willow Somerset, the newest junior editor of Hamnet, Greece’s most prestigious publishing firm. Even though the half-Greek brunette was only twenty-three, she looked more like the office’s resident frump with her plastic-framed glasses, shapeless mud-colored three-piece pantsuit, and a pair of murderously heavy-looking clogs.

  Without missing a beat, Damen bent forward, acting as if he was about to hit the bubble of gum that his editor was trying to blow into a huge pink balloon. Although no one else was inside the conference room with them, the walls around them were entirely made of glass. If just one of Willow’s bosses saw their junior editor right now, that was it for them, their deal possibly being nullified even before it reached acquisitions.

  Willow’s blue-green eyes widened when she saw Damen Leventis’ ridiculously good-looking face move towards her, the evil gleam in his silver-flecked eyes making his intent to burst her bubble – literally – very clear.

  Damen lifted his hand, about to “hit” her with it.

  Shit! Willow immediately snapped her gum back into her mouth, glaring at her client as she did.

  “There. That’s better.” Damen settled back on his seat, satisfied that he had made his point.

  “It’s just gum,” Willow grumbled.

  The ex-billionaire only looked at her.

  She tried to resist the temptation to squirm, reminding herself that in the normal scheme of things, she should be the one holding the power in this relationship. She was his editor. He was an author – heck, not even that since he had asked her to ghostwrite his proposal. Whatever. The point was, she should be the one with the upper hand, not him.

  Damen Leventis was still looking at her.

  God, he made her feel so immature.

  With a muttered curse in Greek, Willow tore a piece of paper from her notepad, spit out her gum, and used the piece of paper to wrap the gum up before throwing it into the waste basket. “Satisfied?” she snarled.

  He said bluntly, “No.”

  Willow rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” In the months she had spent with Damen Leventis, she had come to understand that the older man was a slave driver and a perfectionist. It made her respect the hell out of his wife, definitely.

  “I will not be satisfied until I’ve got my signature on a publishing contract.” His eyes narrowed warningly on his editor, their roles definitely reversed. Editors were supposed to be the ones dispensing advice to their clients, but in Damen and Willow’s case, Damen was the one constantly making sure that his young, rebellious, extremely outspoken, and proudly eccentric editor did not step out of line.

  Of the editors he had sent feelers to about his proposal, only Willow had seriously considered his proposition. More than that, she was a damn good writer, too, having been able to pen a brilliant proposal and sample chapters for Damen in one day. If only, Damen thought exasperatedly as he took in Willow’s restless movements, she acted and spoke as well as she wrote. Right now, she was no different from a hyper teenager, unable to keep still in her seat, her fingers tapping noisily on the table.

  “Keep still,” Damen ordered. With young girls like Willow, it was important to let one know who the voice of authority was.

  “I’m too nervous,” Willow revealed reluctantly. Although Willow’s family owned Hamnet, she was still expected to prove her mettle. Of the many potential clients she had presented to the committee, only her proposal for publishing Damen Leventis’ unorthodox manual had been considered. And if she had to be honest,
she wouldn’t even have gotten this far if the ex-billionaire had not forced Willow to listen to his advice.

  “You’re too melodramatic,” Damen had told her the first time they met over lunch. “If you had been applying at my company—”

  “Your former company, you mean,” she couldn’t help correcting.

  Damen said evenly, “I would have dismissed you on the spot. Aside from being tactless, you appear to be unforgivingly passionate, which is likely to grate on most people’s nerves.”

  Willow had choked in her indignation. “Are you telling me I shouldn’t be passionate about my job?”

  “Of course not,” Damen had rejected impatiently. “Passion is something I admire and seek in every employee of my former company. But too much passion, too much zeal, makes an employee as irresponsible and undesirable as one without it at all. Even passion must be honed and made strategic. It’s how potential can be molded into talent, and later on, into a tangible asset.”

  The words were harsh, but they had not been as disparaging as the ones Willow often received from most of her family. More importantly, Damen Leventis had not dismissed her as useless. Instead, he had, in a roundabout way, told her she had the kind of passion that could be turned into a profitable talent.

  Willow had made up her mind after that. “I want to publish your manual.” And after that, the rest was her history as Damen Leventis’ unpaid and overworked slave.

  Noticing the way his young companion was doing her best to chew her lower lip into pieces, Damen said with quiet assurance, “It will be all right.”

  “I’m not worried. Are you worried?”

  Damen ignored the blustery answer. “Would you like to practice pitching again?”

  She shrugged. “If you need it.”

  Too proud, Damen thought, lips twitching. Oddly, it reminded him of Stavros Manolis, and an idea occurred to him. When he was done with all his troubles and he had given Mairi her happy-ever-after, he would make sure to find a way for Stavros and Willow to meet. He had a feeling that the two would hit it off right away, both of them being workaholics but with different perspectives about work. One was a cold-blooded tactician, the other a passionate advocate.