by Marian Tee
“Oh.” Her nose wrinkled. “You really are…”
One dark eyebrow went up. Go on, make my day.
Which only meant, Willow thought, for her to do something that could get her fired. That would make his day, right?
Well, good thing she didn’t want to make his day.
She sent her boss a sweet smile. “You really are admirable, boss, for patiently teaching me your rules.”
Stavros absolutely refused to smile. “I detect a note of sarcasm.”
She widened her eyes ever so innocently. “Oh no, not at all, sir.”
He was saved from smiling by the fact that they had arrived at the restaurant. He stepped out first and offered his hand to help her out. The moment she placed her hand in his, it took everything in him not to grip her hand tightly.
“Thank you.” Her voice was stiff and she had a hard time keeping herself from snatching her hand away from his like she wanted to.
Inside the restaurant, Willow saw that the man Stavros was meeting was a lot older. He was probably in his sixties, with a thick head of white hair, but with a strong build that exuded vitality and power.
“Stavros.” He spoke with a strong accent as he welcomed Willow’s boss.
“Adler.” They clapped each other on the back. Stavros gestured to Willow. “This is my secretary, Ms. Somerset.”
Her gaze flew to him in pleasant surprise. She hadn’t known he spoke German so fluently either.
“A pleasure, Ms. Somerset,” Adler said in accented English.
“It’s my pleasure, sir,” she returned in German.
His eyes brightened, and he switched to his native language, asking, “You’ve studied our language?”
“I had German classes in school,” she explained. “I studied European literature.”
“Impressive.” Adler glanced at Stavros. “A wonderful secretary you have here.”
Stavros inclined his head. “Thank you.” He gestured to the table. “Shall we?” Stavros pulled out a seat for Willow, and both men waited for her to sit down before taking their seats.
The maître ‘d approached their table as soon as everyone was seated, followed by waiters who handed them their menus. The restaurant they were in was fairly popular, and the place was crowded. But the attention given to them made it clear who was the VIP in the management’s eyes.
“We are pleased to welcome the both of you once more, Mr. Brandt and Mr. Manolis.” He bowed to Willow as well. “We hope you enjoy your time with us, too, mademoiselle.”
“Uh, yeah, of course.” Maybe the other two were used to this kind of treatment, but she wasn’t.
Stavros suppressed a smirk. Turning to Adler, he asked, “The usual for you, my friend?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Would you give me the pleasure of ordering for you, Ms. Somerset?” Stavros asked Willow next.
“Yes, sir,” she answered promptly.
The smallest smile escaped him.
Willow saw it, and her jaw almost dropped. Had Stavros Manolis actually smiled? A real one? At her? In public?
Fuck. She was getting to him again. Turning to the maître ‘d, he briskly gave their table’s orders in fluent French.
“Showoff,” Willow muttered, but it was really more to keep herself from swooning internally. She really, really had it bad for guys who spoke more than three languages, fluently.
“I beg your pardon?”
Shiiiit. Had Adler heard her? When she glanced at the older man, she was horrified to see a ferocious frown on his face.
And it all went downhill from there.
“How was I supposed to know he’s got a prejudice against secretaries?” Willow exclaimed defensively thirty minutes later as Stavros again assisted her back inside the limousine. “And it’s not like it’s my fault that he was stupid enough to have his secretary steal all his money from him, is it?”
The car had already started to move, and Stavros still hadn’t spoken.
Willow felt even more defensive. “It’s not my fault. I wasn’t even saying anything bad about him.”
Nothing.
Ten full minutes of tense silence had stretched between them before Stavros finally spoke. “May I?”
His tone was of exaggerated politeness. She wanted to slap his face for it. “Whatever you want, sir.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling like a petulant child but unable to help it.
“I agree. It’s not your fault that he once foolishly fell for his secretary and that person betrayed his trust. It is, however, your fault for saying something disrespectful about your employer. It is your fault you let your mouth run away from you and expect everyone to brush it off as a joke.”
She opened her mouth to defend herself.
“No, I’m not yet finished, Ms. Somerset. It’s time someone told you how it really is. You’re not stupid. Far from it. I’m even willing to bet you’re extremely intelligent, and yet you always end up doing something stupid. You keep sabotaging yourself. I’m certain you have your own reasons, and I’m certain they’re sensible, but here’s what you need to hear.”
Willow felt like she was being stoned to death with every word Stavros uttered. Her eyes burned painfully with unshed tears but she fought hard against it, would rather have herself run over by a ten-wheeler than to cry now.
“Stop it with the self-pity. Because that’s all there is to it, and the act’s getting a little too old.”
The only sign that she had heard him was the way her shoulders stiffened even more.
Gazing at Willow, noting the stubborn and proud tilt of her face as she stared hard outside the window, Stavros found himself wrestling against a mixture of infuriation and admiration. She was so damn tough, but she was displaying it in the worst ways possible.
“Look at me, Willow.”
“I respectfully decline, sir.”
Goddammit, she made him want to strangle and take her in his arms the same time. “You want that publishing deal with Willem? I can help you with that. I will help you with that, but you need to start growing up.”
The limousine was slowly crawling to a stop, the entrance of Manolis Inc.’s skyscraper just a few feet away. “You’re dismissed for the day. I’d like you to think about what I’ve said. I only want you to report back to office tomorrow if you’ve finally ready to act like an adult. If not, I’ll have your things and paycheck delivered to your place.”
When it was obvious he was done, she said tightly, “Understood, sir.” She didn’t bother waiting for the chauffeur to open the door for her, couldn’t get out of the limousine fast enough.
As she waited for a cab, not in the mood at all to ride the bus and risk breaking down in front of other people, Willow saw the limousine drive past her. Its tinted windows hid everything completely, but she doubted Stavros was looking her way.
Humiliation burned inside of her. Everything he said was right. She knew that. He knew she knew that. But what really killed her, what made her want to throw up or run in the middle of the road and wait for someone to take her out of her misery, was that it had to be Stavros Manolis who would say those words to her.
Your choice, Willow. Fuck up or fuck everyone else up by turning over a new leaf?
Chapter Six
Dear Greek Billionaire,
If I ask if you’re meeting with a woman, it’s not because I’m jealous. Maybe I just really need to know so I can note it in the appointment book.
- The Art of Turning Down a Greek Billionaire
It was only six-thirty in the morning when Stavros arrived at the office. This was common for him, his life revolving primarily around his work. Ashley wasn’t at her place yet, but someone else was there.
Willow had a grande-sized Starbucks cup in her hand, and her voice only shook the slightest bit as she said, “Good morning, Mr. Manolis.”
Her dark hair was twisted up in an elegant chignon, her curvy body sheathed in something equally elegant, a long-sleeved blouse with a pear
l-sewn Peter Pan collar and paired with loose dark gray slacks and similar-colored shoes with kitten heels. Also, she was wearing makeup – she hadn’t any of it even during that night, and it had been a formal ball.
Must. Not. Fidget. But it was so hard. And that impassive face of his? Not making it any easier. And the fact that he seemed to grow even more handsome each day? No help at all.
As the silence stretched into eternity, she snarled, “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Willow wanted to kill herself the moment the words were out. Shiiiiiiiiit. She was sabotaging herself—
Her eyes widened.
Was that a—
Stavros’ lips had curved into a smirk.
Well, it wasn’t a smile like she thought, but at least it wasn’t him getting ready to shout that she was fired.
“Sixteen, Ms. Somerset.”
For once, her surname didn’t sound like a prelude to another dressing-down, but she had to ask. “Sixteen?”
“You lasted sixteen seconds before your self-sabotage tendencies kicked in.” He inclined his head. “It’s a marked improvement from how you were the first time you came here.”
She blinked. “Umm, thanks?” There was an insult somewhere in those words, wasn’t there?
Walking forward, he took his coffee from her. “Thank you for this.” He took a sip and almost spewed it back out. “What the hell is this?”
She gave him the sweetest smile. “An Ariana Grande, sir.” And she had ordered it simply because she had read from an article that Stavros despised sweets.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Cotton-candy-based latte.”
He gave her back the cup. “Throw it out.” He scowled. “Order that for me again, and you’re fired.”
“Yes, sir.” Her tone was properly repentant, but when she turned around, Stavros saw Willow practically sashay her way to the steel bin in the corner. He shook his head. Hopeless. She would never really lose that impertinent streak in her, and if he were truthful with himself, he wouldn’t want her to either. She just needed to be a little more in control, that was all.
Like he did. He could do with a bit more control, too, particularly when it came to what he was staring at. The movement of her hips had entranced him again, and he couldn’t take his gaze off it. His cock was even happier now, with the way the fabric of her slacks molded perfectly to her rounded bottom. He vividly remembered the way those felt in his hands—
Throwing the cup into the steel bin, Willow asked, “Anything else, boss?” She turned around and caught sight of Stavros gazing at her.
In a way that she never expected to, a way that a boss wasn’t ever supposed to look at his secretary.
“My former secretary left instructions on her desk,” Stavros said as he turned his back on her. Fuck. Why the fuck couldn’t he stop fantasizing about those damn hips?
Willow’s mind was lost in the clouds as she slowly made her way to her desk. It was directly adjacent to the door to his office and parallel to the reception counter.
Had she imagined that, Willow wondered absently as she sat down. The instructions Stavros had talked about were neatly typed in a set of documents. Scanning it, she saw that everything had been covered, including Stavros’ coffee preferences.
Whoever you are, Willow thought, you must be a saint. A thought occurred to her, one that had Willow hurriedly swinging in her seat so she could use the iMac on her left. She typed the former secretary’s name on Facebook’s search box.
Willow chewed on her nail. What if this woman happened to be attractive? What if Stavros hit on—
Oh. Only one woman of the same name was a friend of Stavros Manolis, and she was sixty-two years old.
Yeeeeeeeeees!
She pumped her fist in the air—
Stavros suddenly appeared by the doorway. “Ms. Somerset?” His tone was deeply puzzled as he considered her stance.
Shiiiiiiit.
Willow slowly retracted her arm and straightened in her seat. “Just so happy to be working for you, sir.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but he had long accepted that there were just some things about Willow Somerset he’d never comprehend. “You’ve found the files.”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. I expect you to be familiar with the basics by the end of the day. Tomorrow, I’d like you to focus on the project that I had broached with Adler Brandt.”
The name had her wincing.
Good, Stavros thought, seeing the wince. The old Willow would have said something obnoxious just to hide her discomfort. “Has Damen explained to you why I need you? Or what I’m working on?”
“Not that much, sir. He only told me that it was a hush-hush project, and…” She wrinkled her nose, remembering the other billionaire’s exact words. “He told me I’d need to pretend I had manners if I was hired.”
“It’s true. We’ll talk about that tomorrow then. Get back to work.” Stavros disappeared back into his office before she could ask him what was true. That the project was hush-hush or that she needed to pretend she had manners?
Motherfucker, Willow thought, but she uneasily noted how the word didn’t come with as much heat this time.
Ashley arrived a quarter before eight and almost choked on her own coffee upon seeing Willow. “Are you leaving us? Is that why you’re here so early?”
She made a face. “Jumping to conclusions, aren’t we?”
“So you’re not?” When Willow only stared at her, Ashley grinned. “Sorry, but you should’ve seen the boss’ face when he came back yesterday. He looked fit to murder, but he also looked…anxious?” Ashley shrugged. “Just made me think he probably told you something nasty and he regretted it.”
Willow snorted. “Let me tell you—”
Stavros appeared by the door again. “Go on, Ms. Somerset.”
Shiiiiiiit.
Without missing a beat, she told Ashley, “Yesterday was completely my fault. Completely.”
Stavros was reluctantly impressed by the conviction in her voice. “It wasn’t completely her fault, Ashley,” he said generously. “It was mostly her fault, though.”
Biting her lip hard, Willow sternly told herself she should be grateful he had said that.
Stavros’ lips twitched at the determined frown on Willow’s face. Facing his receptionist, he told her, “Don’t forget to give Ms. Somerset her phone.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Mr. Manolis. I’ll give it to her now.”
A nod and then Stavros was gone again.
“What phone?” Willow asked.
“Well, you’re his secretary, so sometimes, you have to make calls for him.” Ashley pulled open one of her drawers and took out a box. “I didn’t get to give you this yesterday. You’re supposed to use this for work. Everyone who ever did business with Mr. Manolis knows this number, and they know it belongs to whoever his secretary may be at the moment.”
As Willow took the iPhone box, Ashley added, “All the contacts you’ll need are saved there already.”
“Got it.” Returning to her desk, she took out the phone, saw it was fully charged, and started browsing its contents. There were no photos at all, and even the browser history was completely wiped clean. When she clicked on the call icon, though, that was when she saw it. The recent calls were all to women. Different women.
Ah.
Maybe it was just coincidence. And maybe she could sprout wings now. Because right now, she felt like she was floating again.
She stared down at the phone. How was it so easy for him to move on? And why, God, why couldn’t she do the same thing?
Willow almost jumped when her own intercom buzzed. “Yes, Mr. Manolis?” She was proud to hear her voice showed nothing of the turbulent emotions inside of her.
“Come in here, and please bring your phone with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stavros frowned when he saw the stiff way his secretary held herself. What was wrong now?
“Are
you all right?”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him the brightest smile she could muster.
His eyes narrowed. “Rule number one, Ms. Somerset.”
And that was…ah, never to lie to him. Very well then, Mr. Manolis, Willow thought.
“I browsed through my work phone,” she told him baldly, “and the names on all the recent calls were to women, sir.” Watching him, she saw that Stavros at least had the gall to flush.
Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that, and he knew he should have. “Willow—”
“Yes, Mr. Manolis?”
His jaw clenched. Maybe this was for the best. He looked at her. He only had to fucking look at her, and he already wanted her.
Willow’s heart began hammering in a familiar way. No boss should be looking at his secretary like he wanted to eat her. Oh God, this was so like a scene straight out from one of those paperbacks Mairi Tanner-Leventis – Stavros’ first love – got her Greek billionaire daydreams from. It wasn’t funny.
Did she know, he wondered savagely, how she was looking at him? Did she know that she was looking at him like she wanted to offer her body for him to devour?
Did she fucking know what that did to him? Did she?
The longer she stared at him with those blue-green eyes hazy with desire, the more his cock rampaged under his pants, growling at him to ignore common sense and just let lust take over both of them.
His fists clenched. There really was no way out of this, was there? If he could not stop himself from wanting her, then…he would make sure she would never want him back.
Stavros heard himself say, “I need you to make a call for me.”
A…call?
Flustered and more than a little perplexed at the command, she lifted the iPhone up. Clearing her throat, Willow asked, “Who do you want me to call, sir?”
“Cara Newton.”
Her heart stumbled to a stop. “C-Cara Newton?”
“You heard me.” His gaze was unreadable now, his beautiful face cold. “Let her know I’d appreciate her company for dinner.”
Cara Newton.
Although Willow didn’t know everyone in the fashion industry, she would have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name Stavros had given. Cara was currently the world’s favorite It Girl, thanks to her savvy ways with social media.
