by Marian Tee
“Oh.” Serenity’s upper lip curled ever so slightly. “Such a compliment.”
I take it back, Willow thought. She was doing Elsa a disfavor.
“If you’ll follow me, Ms. Somerset?” But the other girl was already walking, leaving Willow to catch up with her. Turning around the corner, she gestured to the hallway, which had several doors on each side. “This is your floor.” Serenity took out a card key from her pocket and handed it to her. “Originally, this floor consisted only of two conference halls. Five years ago, however, the royal family decided to divide each side into five separate rooms, to provide more quarters for visitors. Each room is appropriately 50 square meters in size, quite small compared to other rooms in the palace, but it does come equipped with its own en-suite bathroom, kitchen, and living room.”
Willow was busily scribbling down the details on her notepad. “Do all floors reserved for visitors look like this?”
“No. Compared to other rooms in the palace, these ones possess a far more understated décor, and more attention had been given to provide amenities. If I have to describe the rooms in this floor with one word, I’d say they are by far the most functional.”
Willow pushed the notepad and pen back into her pocket. “Got it. Thanks.”
“Your room is the last on the right. 502. You have any other questions, Ms. Somerset?”
Yes, one. How long do your batteries last? Because in the three hours they had been walking and going up and down stairs, Serenity hadn’t ever appeared out of breath or even broken a sweat.
But out loud, Willow said, “None at all.” She was Willow 2.0, and she was determined to make this new version even more tactful than the snow ogress.
“Then I wish you good night. We shall resume the tour tomorrow at five.”
“In the afternoon?”
Serenity slanted an odd glance towards her. “In the morning, Ms. Somerset.”
Willow tried not to look horrified. She knew it. This girl was a robot.
“Would that be a problem, Ms. Somerset?”
“No, no, not at all.” Dragging herself out of bed at four in the morning would be as painful as having her molar pulled out, but it would not be a problem.
“I shall take myself off then.” As Serenity spoke, the door next to Willow’s room opened, and the sound of throaty feminine laughter floated to them. It was an I’m-about-to-go-to-bed-and-I-won’t-be-alone kind of sound, and Willow glanced apprehensively at her companion. Was the blonde robot old enough to see things like this? What if her program could only handle PG data?
An awkward look flittered over Serenity’s face. “Ms. Somerset…” She paused, her expression turning into acute frustration, as if she was suddenly having a hard time putting her thoughts into words.
Thinking it was because the sound offended the girl’s delicate sensibilities, Willow said reassuringly, “I don’t mind it at all. What they do is their business.” Sexy breathy moans floated towards them, and Willow frowned. Okay, that was being a little too PDA, wasn’t it? Didn’t they know there were children around?
Intending to tell the moanaholic to tone it down, Willow turned around just in time to see a woman back out of the room as she tried her best to make her micro dress appear more respectable, pulling it up to cover more of her cleavage and then pulling it down to cover her butt. And so the cycle went on.
“Ms. Somerset,” Serenity said again, her tone more insistent this time.
“Relax, I got this,” Willow said. “She should know it’s not proper to act like that here. It says so in the palace’s code of conduct for guests.” She winked at Serenity.
But Serenity only looked even more frustrated. “No, Ms. Somerset. You misunderstand.”
Willow turned back to the moanaholic, calling out, “Excuse me?”
Startled, the woman glanced at her just as the door opened again and another person came out. Someone who looked painfully familiar, his dark hair bed-mussed—
NO. No, please God, no, it can’t be, no, no, no.
No sound came out of Willow’s mouth, but it was almost as if her cry of denial had become audible at the strength of her pain. The man’s head snapped up, his gaze going straight to her.
It became useless to deny the truth then.
Stavros.
She waited for him to say something – anything – and she would take it as truth. She just didn’t want to believe what she was seeing.
Please, Stavros—
Across the hall, Stavros stiffened, as if their hearts were connected, and he heard the way she was begging him silently to prove her every thought wrong.
He started to move.
She held her breath.
Please, Stavros—
But instead of heading towards her, Stavros faced the other woman again. She watched him reach for her, watched his long elegant fingers wrap around another woman’s wrist and she remembered the times it was her he was holding, it was her he was pulling into his room—
The door slammed shut, leaving Willow alone in her pain.
Behind her, she heard Serenity say awkwardly, “I didn’t know how to tell you about it, Ms. Somerset.”
“I understand. It’s not your fault.” She couldn’t make herself look at the other girl. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the tour.” She started walking as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn’t want another person to witness her falling apart.
Her hands shook as she pressed the card key against the detector and when it beeped, she hurried inside, taking extra care not to make any sound as she closed the door—
And that was when she heard it.
Moans.
God, such long, drawn-out moans…
She slid down to the floor and pressed her hands to her ears, but it wasn’t enough. She fumbled for her earbuds, pain making her clumsy. It took forever to get everything connected, and then finally, the music started to fill her ears. It granted her escape from the sounds, but not from the thoughts—
Stavros was fucking another woman in the room next to her.
Another woman running her hands on the body that should have been hers alone, another woman’s mouth on his, another woman’s body taking his length inside her—
Willow wanted to go crazy at the thought of it.
Something terribly, stupidly masochistic inside of her made Willow crawl towards the wall their rooms shared. Trembling, she reached out to touch it—
The thin layer of concrete underneath her palm jumped, the impact of someone slamming against the wall.
She tore her hand away with a soundless cry.
No, no, no, please God, please make me forget.
She found herself curling up on the floor, trying her best to control her sobs. She tried to block out all the images her imaginative mind conjured, but they persisted, tormenting her with visions of Stavros and the other woman fucking each other’s brains out.
She knew…she knew she couldn’t blame Stavros for it. She had hurt him, made him believe she had betrayed him. She knew that this pain was nothing compared to how she had thrown Stavros’ feelings back in his face because at least she knew the truth, while he truly believed she had only used him.
She knew all that, but even so, the knowledge did nothing to ease the pain. She sobbed and sobbed. It was the only thing she could do.
We’re quits, Stavros.
She curled into a ball, pain transforming her world into a blur of tears.
But please don’t do this again.
Please.
Chapter Four
A knock sounded on Stavros’ door at four in the morning, waking Ingrid up. The space next to her in bed was empty, but she could hear the shower running from the en-suite bathroom. When the knock continued, Ingrid forced herself to get up. It could be important, something that could make Stavros Manolis happy with her.
Wrapping the covers around her body, she moved towards the door. “Coming.” Opening it, she found herself staring at a little blonde co
w with two cups of Starbucks coffee in her hands.
Although Ingrid immediately recognized her as the woman from yesterday, she pretended not to, asking brightly, “Is that for us?”
Willow knew a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would suffice, but she just couldn’t make herself speak or even think. Stupid. She was so, so stupid. Those were the only words that existed in her mind right now. Just because the room had finally become silent didn’t mean he was already alone. God, she was so stupid.
In front of her, Stavros’ companion for the night was smiling, as if she drew pleasure from the fact that she had rendered Willow temporarily dumbstruck. Like any broken-hearted ex-lover, the first thing she had done last night was to stalk this woman on the Internet. She had found out that the woman’s name was Ingrid Mendel, an heiress to a billion-dollar chemical company and Stavros’ regular arm candy whenever he was in the country.
“Who is it, Ingrid?” Willow heard Stavros ask.
“She hasn’t given her name yet,” Ingrid called back.
Frowning at Ingrid’s vague answer, Stavros wrapped a towel around his hips and headed to the door. Ingrid stepped back and he suddenly found himself face to face with Willow.
It was almost like gatecrashing an orgy, Willow thought. Dressed as she was in a three-piece suit, she felt distinctly out of place and more than just a little numb with shock.
A muscle ticked in Stavros’ jaw at the way Willow was looking at him. Goddamn her to hell. She was close to succeeding in making him feel guilty, but Stavros hardened his resolve, telling himself it was all for show.
“You know her?” Ingrid asked.
Stavros nodded curtly. “My former secretary. She’s working for Willem now.”
“Oh. Headhunted by royalty.” Ingrid’s smile widened. “How impressive.” Snuggling against Stavros, she offered a hand to the other woman. “Ingrid Mendel.”
Willow forced herself to shake hands with the heiress. “Willow Somerset.”
Releasing Willow’s hand, Ingrid looked up at Stavros. “Darling?” From the corner of her eye, she saw the cow flinch when Stavros immediately bent his head towards her.
“What is it?”
Ingrid gestured to the other woman innocently. “I think she’s hoping to share her morning coffee with you.”
Shiiiiiiit. This woman was the greatest Dutch shit in the world. The words were clearly meant to provoke her, but Willow told herself not to react. Willow 2.0, she reminded herself. Her entire plan hinged on being Willow 2.0, and she mustn’t let herself forget that.
The entire night, she had been unable to sleep.
Her mind had been in turmoil, and the entire time, she couldn’t help thinking that if she apologized for her thoughtless taunt about his mother, this punishment would stop. She just had to say sorry first, and he would forgive her and stop fucking other women.
It was a silly, stupid wish, but she had made herself believe it, and bringing him coffee was meant to be her olive branch. Or at least that had been the plan…when she had thought she would catch him alone.
Stavros was gazing at her now, his handsome face impassive as Ingrid’s words caused him to glance at the cups she held. He said dismissively, “I’m sure that’s not true.”
Willow knew what he was doing. He was giving her a graceful exit, a way to save them both from awkwardness in public. She should seize it, she knew. She really should. But instead, she heard herself say, “Actually, it is.”
Stavros found himself stilling at Willow’s words. What the hell was she playing at? His gaze raked over her incredulously. Did she really think he could forget everything with a damn cup of coffee?
The whole night long, he had made love to Ingrid until she had literally passed out. The whole night, he had done his best to fuck himself numb, but all he had been able to accomplish was pretend it was Willow he was fucking, her voice he heard when Ingrid cried out as she came. Even though Stavros had lost count of the number of times he had an orgasm, only his body had become numb with exhaustion. The rest of him – especially his mind and his fucking heart – had been impervious, and both had mocked him for his inability to get Willow Somerset out of his mind.
Willow – the one woman in the world who had been able to make a greater fool out of him than his mother.
When Stavros only looked at her with hard, implacable eyes, she willingly swallowed her pride as she stretched her arm out to extend the coffee towards him. “A peace offering.” She had wanted the words to come out cheerful, but instead they ended up desperate.
Besides Stavros, Ingrid burst into laughter. She laughed so hard that she even fell against Stavros’ side at her mirth as she gasped, “Oh, God, this is so painful to watch.”
Even as the heiress’ words cut her to pieces, Willow deliberately kept her eyes on Stavros. “So, what do you think?”
Instead of answering her, Stavros demanded in Greek, “What is this about?”
Also answering in Greek, she said, “I told you, a peace—”
“Your peace offering can go to hell.” The way Willow whitened at his words made Stavros’ chest tighten, but he told himself it was all for show. This woman was the world’s greatest actress while he could end up the world’s greatest idiot if he allowed himself to fall for her tricks again.
Curling an arm around Ingrid’s waist, he said brusquely, “If you have nothing else to say…”
The implication behind his words had Willow reeling, and she asked thinly, “You’re still not done fucking her?”
A humorless smile twisted Stavros’ lips. “You of all people should know one night barely makes a difference to me if I want someone bad enough.”
And that someone, Willow realized dumbly, wasn’t her. Something hollow started to grow inside of her. “I see.” She watched the heiress shamelessly rub herself against Stavros’ side, and she repeated dazedly, “I see.”
The redundancy of her words revealed Willow’s shock, but it was the look in her eyes that disturbed Stavros the most. Something about those eyes made him feel like he was supposed to grasp something, a wisp of an idea that shouldn’t have been able to elude him but did.
There was something about the way she looked at him, something he couldn’t quite name. Was it there to fool him? Was it there to mock him? He couldn’t fucking say at all, and the fact that even now she possessed the power to confuse him – to make him care enough to be confused, dammit – angered Stavros, making his voice harsh and cold as he demanded, “Are we done now?”^^
The question rattled her. No. They were not done. That was what Willow wanted to scream at him. If he really loved her, he should have known that in her heart, they had never ended.
But then…that was why they were like this in the first place, wasn’t it?
Stavros had to learn to love and trust her first. But until that happened, they were exactly what Stavros said.
They were done.
Willow slowly stepped back. “Yeah.” She tried her damnedest to keep her smile in place, but she could feel it dancing shakily on her lips as she said, “We’re done.”
The air of vulnerability around her was unmistakable, but Stavros strove not to let it affect him. “Goodbye then.” He spoke in English this time.
“Oh.” Ingrid faked a sad sigh at the words. “But what about the coffee? Perhaps you could let both of us have it instead?”
“No!” When Ingrid blinked at her, Willow turned red, realizing she had shouted the word. “I’m sorry, I actually lied. These cups weren’t for you.” She was babbling and she couldn’t help it. “I just knocked on Stavros’ door to ask if he had extra milk. I like my cappuccino with more milk than most people care for.”
“Oh, really?” Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Then whose coffee is the second one you’re holding?”
Willow gave Ingrid her best look of surprise. “Duh. Mine of course. Don’t you know? We Greeks like our coffee a lot.” And so doing, she drank the first cup of coffee straight and the second one right
after. The liquid scalded her tongue, causing tears to prick her eyes, but she was damned if she would cry in front of the Dutch shit and the Greek billionaire who was acting like a piece of shit.
By the time Willow had emptied the two cups, both Stavros and Ingrid were staring at her.
Finally, Ingrid said, “The first time I saw you, I thought you were like a fat little cow, but no, you’re more like a camel with your humps—”
“Ingrid.” Stavros’ tone was frigid with distaste.
Flushing at the condemnation in the billionaire’s eyes, she said sulkily, “I’m sorry.” She turned to Stavros, deliberately drawing his attention by running a hand over his chest. “Can we please get back to bed now? Or do you prefer talking to her over making love to me?”
If she had put her question any other way, Stavros wouldn’t have hesitated to reject her, if only to teach Ingrid a lesson.
But when it was a choice between a bitch and the woman who had betrayed him?
Even though the way Ingrid was pawing him filled Stavros with dislike, he did nothing to prevent it, keeping his fists clenched against his side. He looked at Willow, arching a brow. Will you just stand there and stare?
The silent question made Willow feel like she had been sucker punched. She knew she should leave now, but she just couldn’t make her feet move. She hated, oh God, she hated the way the Dutch shit kept mauling Stavros in front of her. She knew if she left, Stavros would be raped on the spot.
Ingrid couldn’t believe it when the fat cow still hadn’t left. She asked pointedly, “You’re aware you’re not needed?”
“Am I?” Lame-ass way of delaying the inevitable, but she would do anything to keep them from fucking again.
“Yes,” Ingrid said coldly, “you are.”
Willow let out a gasp of feigned amazement. “I don’t believe it.”
Stavros frowned at the almost hysterical light shining in Willow’s eyes. Something wasn’t right. He knew he shouldn’t give a damn…but he did. “Willow—”
The concern in the Greek billionaire’s voice made Ingrid’s temper snap. “Fine then,” she said sweetly, cutting Stavros off. “If you want to be a spectator then please,” she drawled, “be my guest.” Letting go of the covers wrapped around her body, she let it fall as she twined her arms around Stavros’ neck and kissed him full on the mouth.
