The Greek Billionaire and I

by Marian Tee

  “You’re giggling,” Mykolas told her, his lips curving as he spun his bride around on the dance floor. She looked incredibly beautiful tonight, and he wouldn’t be lying if he described her as the most beautiful woman in the room. That was how she had seemed to him – had always seemed to him. Her wedding dress was an exquisite blend of white and gold, silk and lace, and hand-sewn pearls. It had a strapless corset-styled top and a semi-ballerina skirt that fell a little past her knees. Matched with her sky-high white heels, she was perfection. She was Velvet Sallis, and she was fucking his for eternity.

  Velvet looked up at her husband, knowing full well that she had stars in her eyes and didn’t give a damn about it. “You’re staring.”

  He brought her close and whispered to her ear, “I can’t stop. You’re so damn beautiful, Mrs. Sallis.” She shivered in his arms, making Mykolas laugh.

  She beat him on the shoulder. “Stop trying to turn me on in public.”

  He pulled back to give her a wide-eyed look even as he continued to twirl them around. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Shut up! You know you just have to look at me like—”

  He gazed at her with lidded eyes.

  Velvet’s breasts became heavy, and she hissed, “Like that!”

  Laughing, he lowered his head to kiss her, and around them the guests shouted, Twenty-six! This had both of them laughing even as Mykolas continued to kiss her. This had been their 26th kiss since they had been made man and wife, and Velvet had a feeling it would be a three-digit-figure by the time the night ended.

  When he lifted his head, she couldn’t help but mouth, I love you.

  Something in his eyes flashed before he mouthed, Sneaky.

  This made her laugh because she knew it was in reference of her being good at stealing his heart.

  Tenderly, Mykolas pressed a kiss to his bride’s forehead. “Are you thirsty?” They had been dancing and entertaining guests for hours.

  At her nod, they moved off the dance floor and headed to the refreshments table. Velvet looked up at her groom and…grinned.

  He raised a brow. “What?”

  She told him in a confidential whisper, “You look seriously hot.”

  He laughed. “Coming from you, I will treasure that compliment.”

  “So hot I want you to fuck me right now.” And it was her turn to laugh when Mykolas abruptly cut his off.

  “Velvet, dammit. Now, I know you want revenge.” And now he had also gone from partially aroused to about-to-go-crazy-all-11.5-inches-are-out-aroused, his cock about to rip past the zipper of his pants.

  “Not really,” she said honestly. “I just want a quickie.”

  Dio. The thought of having a quickie was infinitely appealing. It was better than having to wait for a few more hours before their party officially ended and he could finally have his damn wedding night.

  She gave him her best puppy-eyed look. “Please?”

  “Behave yourself.”

  “No.” He softened his rejection by stroking her cheek. “Tonight, I do not want any one person here mistakenly thinking I do not respect or cherish you, agape mou. For once, we will do it the right way, hmm?”

  Even as she thrilled to his words, Velvet pouted. She had never really pouted in her entire life, but now seemed a good time to try and by the arrested look on Mykolas’ face, it seemed to be working. So she pouted some more and the next thing she knew, Mykolas was cupping her face again and kissing her hard.

  Twenty-seven, the crowd roared.

  But neither of them really heard it.

  ****

  It was about four in the morning when Mykolas and Velvet prepared to leave for his vacation house in Santorini, which was where their month-long honeymoon would start. The party was still full swing, but it was clear to see virtually all of the guests were too drunk to notice their departure. While Velvet made her goodbyes to Mandy, he headed back to his office to ensure that everything was in order before he left. He planned not to work a single minute of his honeymoon since he would be too busy enjoying his wife’s charms.

  Mykolas scribbled last-minute instructions for his secretary to go through the next day. As he was about to leave, he caught sight of Velvet’s purse and smirked at his wife’s forgetfulness. It wasn’t normal of her to be forgetful. It was proof that she was so heady in love with him that she forgot all about her purse.

  Picking it up from the console table, he realized too late that the bag was unzipped and her iPhone tumbled out. When Mykolas picked the phone up, he saw a new email alert on the screen and clicked it unthinkingly.

  The email was from a lawyer named Lester Wilkins.

  I’ve sent $100,000 as requested to his lawyer, and he’ll be providing you with a receipt as well as a draft of the contract for your approval.

  You are as always too kind by half and stubborn, too. You are also unfortunately blinded by love. Wayne Garfield is a lost cause, and he will never stop ruining your life for as long as you keep hoping for the impossible. He will not and he can never love you the way you want him to and certainly never the way you love him.

  Three seconds of absolute silence passed.

  Three seconds of the most unbelievable agony.

  Three seconds of the most devastating betrayal.

  Mykolas threw Velvet’s phone against the wall, and as its screen smashed into pieces, he grimly wished he could destroy his feelings for his duplicitous wife just as easily.

  ****

  “My husband wants me to go to his office?” Velvet was bemused. Mykolas had told her to wait here so they could leave together and now this?

  The waiter nodded. “Right away if possible, Mrs. Sallis.”

  Oh!

  Her lips curved. Mykolas had decided to give in and indulge her need for a quickie then. She smiled and thanked the waiter and hurried to the elevator. Would it be too much if she took off her underwear now?

  Imagining the look on his face made her decide on the spot, and she hurriedly stepped out of her lace underwear just before the elevator’s doors swooshed open. Of course, this left her with the evidence in her hands, and she impulsively decided to hide it inside his secretary’s drawer and come back for it later. Or at least she hoped she would remember to take it out later. Most times, Velvet thought fondly as she opened the door to his office, he made her forget everything but his name. He was just that good at—

  And that was when she saw it.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed.

  No, this was not possible.

  This was not possible.

  THIS WAS NOT POSSIBLE!

  She didn’t pause to think. She just reacted, just ran towards the couple in the dark and grabbed the hair of the woman who was on her knees and giving Mykolas head. And then she was slapping Mykolas. Slapped him so hard because she knew whatever hurt she inflicted on him wouldn’t even be a fraction of what she was suffering right now.

  “Why?” she screamed. “Why, damn you, why?” Tears blinded her, but she didn’t need to see him anyway. She would see him forever now, and it would always be Mykolas being pleasured by another woman.

  “Because,” he said savagely, “it gave me a fucking kick to let you know that you’re not irreplaceable.” He caught her flailing wrists and forced them down. “It gives me a fucking kick to hurt your damn pride because that’s all I can hurt since you don’t have a fucking heart!”

  He had the urge to shove her away, but he forced himself to simply let her go. He needed the damn practice and told himself that this was more like a necessary excision, like cutting a fucking infected limb before it ended up killing the rest of his system.

  Velvet felt like she had been punched in the gut when Mykolas suddenly released her, in a way that made her feel she was toxic and he no longer wanted himself contaminated by her presence. God, it hurt so badly, almost to the point that she wished he had just pushed her away. At least that showed he cared enough to hate her.

  His words d
idn’t make any sense at all, but did it matter? All she knew was that she had been wrong. He didn’t love her.

  But in the end, she found herself begging. Dammit, she couldn’t stop herself from begging. “Please make me understand.”

  And yet the coldness never left his face. “There is nothing to understand. Nothing. This farce is over. Get the hell out of my life and if I ever see your face again, I’ll have you arrested for stalking.”

  Weak is a dick, weak is a dick, weak is a…

  She couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

  Dick was not the one who was weak. It was her. Velvet was weak. No, not Velvet. It was Dotty who was weak.

  Dotty was weak. Dotty was weak. Dotty was weak.

  Somehow, she took pleasure in chanting the words in her mind as she turned her back on Mykolas and left his office. She didn’t even feel the slightest need to look back. There was no point. He was part of the same past where Wayne and Lindy existed, a part of her life that she had to ignore if she didn’t want it to kill her.

  It was only when she got to the lobby that she realized she didn’t have any money. She had left her bag in Mykolas’ office. She wouldn’t even be able to withdraw from the bank, not when there was nothing to withdraw since she had stupidly – oh God, how stupid she had been all this time! – used all her money this morning to buy a fucking gift for Mykolas. It had been her proof to herself that she was not weak – that she was strong enough to love and trust.

  Yeah, well, stupid her.

  Dotty was weak. Dotty was weak. Dotty was weak.

  Another thought occurred to her, one that almost sent Velvet to her knees.

  Oh God, she even didn’t have panties on.

  All she had were memories and…

  Velvet forced herself to turn around and face the gaping security guard, who had been trying all this time not to make it obvious that he had been staring at her. Tugging the rings off her fingers, she gave it to him and said, “It’s your lucky day.”

  And then she started to walk to the airport.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are these all her financial records?” Mykolas asked the next day, his face cold and unreadable as he took the documents from the head of his security team.

  “They are everything, even the ones that should not have been publicly accessible.”

  When the other man left, Mykolas remained motionless behind his office desk for a while. Even now, he loathed himself for being so gullible. Even now, he questioned his motives for wasting his time tracing Velvet Lambert’s every move. What did he hope to find with these papers? A reason or an excuse he could cling to so that he would be able to take her back without hating himself for being a lovesick fool?

  In the end, the reasons didn’t matter. He simply had to know. He had to know.

  And when he started reading, he found that none of the figures matched with what he had expected.

  Velvet had two bank accounts.

  The first one had been opened the year she had arrived in Greece. It had an impressive initial deposit, but the cynical part of him wondered whether it was the result of another successful conquest brought about by Velvet’s irresistible beauty. What followed were regular deposits and very minimal withdrawals except for the occasional checks she sent to Wayne Garfield.

  The last two transactions were completed online in the morning of their wedding day. The first was another check of $100,000 transferred to her lawyer Lester Wilkins. The remainder, a sum amounting to a little over $2,000, was withdrawn as cash.

  Her second account was even more perplexing. She had opened it a week ago. And when he read the details of the one and only transaction for the account, Mykolas realized that it was the $100,000 check he had given to her.

  It remained untouched, even today.

  Mykolas moved on to the next group of documents, and that was when the alarm bells started to ring. They were application forms for a non-profit foundation intended to benefit victims of crimes related to drug abuse. The initial capital was $100,000.

  Was the non-profit to be a front? Would she use it to ask for more money from him for her lover?

  The thought had his fist clenching, and he had the strongest urge to flip his table and destroy every piece of evidence that suggested Velvet Lambert had been untrue to him.

  Why? Why, damn you, why?

  She had sobbed and screamed the question at him. He wanted to roar the same question at her. The pain of her betrayal was so great it nearly crippled him. Same fucking question, but at least he meant his. With her, he knew it was all a fucking act. She did not care about him. All she had ever cared about was his money, and God, how skillfully she had played him. She would probably be laughing her way to the bank when she found out that on the same morning she had sent Wayne Greenfield a hundred grand, he, Mykolas Sallis, had torn their prenup contract.

  The memory of his stupidity was like acid, and a second later he did end up destroying his desk. Punched the wall. Smashed glass into pieces with his bare hands. He destroyed everything in sight, but the pain remained because he could not destroy the memories he had of Velvet.

  Why? Why, damn you, why?

  ****

  It was almost ten in the evening when he arrived at his home. His manservant received him stony-faced, and Mykolas was tempted to fire the damn man on the spot. In all the years Dodds had been working for Mykolas, he had rarely spoken or given his opinion. The old man had even preferred to work around the apartment only when Mykolas was not there to “disturb” him when he was cleaning. But somehow, Velvet had managed to fool the old man, too. It was obvious in the way Dodds looked at him that the crusty old man blamed him for Velvet’s absence.

  “You have a visitor,” Dodds informed him woodenly. “A Mrs. Chantal Blakely.”

  The shock of realizing that his stepmother was in his home was enough to make Mykolas briefly forget his black mood. When he strode into his living room, Chantal was indeed there. The years that passed had made little difference to her, other than the fact that she wasn’t as thin as she used to be.

  “Do I merit a hug, Mickey?”

  She had been the only one to call him that. It had first been her way of getting his attention by making him angry but in the end, it had turned into a term of endearment from mother to son.

  His fury over Velvet’s betrayal had left him tired, vulnerable, and looking at Chantal, Mykolas wasn’t even able to summon up an ounce of resentment. All he could remember were the good times. He said gruffly, “Of course, Chubby.” That had been his way of retaliating when he was a boy.

  She laughed, he smiled, and they were in each other’s arms. When Chantal was seated across him and Dodds had finished serving them drinks, she said wistfully, “I’ve always hated myself for giving in to the pressure, you know.”

  “You were young,” he murmured. “I understand what you went through—”

  “I wasn’t the young one then. You were. I loved you like a son. I made you see me as a mother and yet in the end, I gave you up and I’ll never…” Chantal inhaled sharply. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.” Tears made her eyes hazy. “Even when I remarried and gave birth to my children, I always thought of you as my child – my firstborn and I…I told my children about you, too. I told them that maybe one day, you’d be able to forgive me for not standing up to your father.”

  Mykolas’ lips twisted. “If you mean you wished you had been able to change him so that we could remain a happy family, then that would have been impossible.”

  Chantal shook her head. “No. Not that.” She looked at him with dawning realization – and pity. “You don’t know, do you?” Before he could answer, she sighed, “Oh, Mickey. How you must have hated me all these years.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I asked your father if I could see you again. And it seemed to hurt his pride, offended him somehow, that I wanted to see you more than him, so he threatened to destroy my life – even my parents’ – if I eve
r attempted to contact you.”

  Mykolas’ face was white by the time Chantal finished speaking. Damn his father. He had always been a vain, jealous fool and Mykolas could easily see how his pride had made him see his own son as a rival. “You are right,” he said tightly. “I should have realized you would not give me up so easily—”

  Chantal started to cry at his words, and Mykolas drew his stepmother into his arms. “I’m sorry you married the old bastard.”

  “I’m sorry the old bastard is your father.”

  Chantal’s teary quip somehow reminded him of Velvet, but he stoically pushed the thought away. He would get rid of her, every fucking memory, even if he had to die trying.

  When Chantal pulled away, she asked with an eager smile, “And your bride? Where is she?”

  Mykolas stiffened. “She’s…not here.”

  “Oh.” Chantal’s smile became teasing. “She seemed to be a very headstrong woman. I bet she can easily run circles around you. When I first read her letter—”

  He asked sharply, “She wrote to you?”

  “Surely you know—you don’t?” Chantal paled. “I thought…when you didn’t throw me out of the door, I thought she had told you everything and you were expecting me.”

  Alarm bells started to ring inside his head, and there was a heavy aching sensation in his chest that made it hard for Mykolas to breathe. “When did she write to you?”

  “Yesterday. She sent an express mail and gave me a roundtrip ticket to Athens. I live in the States now. I actually went to your house in Santorini first and when I learned you were still here, I thought there had been a mix-up and I…I didn’t want to waste this chance to meet you again so I came here.” She looked at him entreatingly. “Please tell me you’re not angry at her for contacting me?”

  “No,” he heard himself say hoarsely. “I’m not.” Confused was what he was. And terrified. So damn terrified that even if it did not seem possible, he had gotten everything wrong.

  “I was hesitant and scared to meet with you, you know. But her letter was so beautiful. She told me that I was her wedding gift to you. That she wanted you to feel it wasn’t wrong to trust or love someone. When she said those words, how could I not risk saying ‘yes’? Because I have always loved you like a son, Mickey. And this time I wanted to prove to you that I really do love you.”