by Marian Tee
Shaking her head, she murmured, “No wonder Willem de Konigh took you in even if you’re barely legal. I see it now. You’ve got a Machiavellian mind hidden under all that prim and proper glacier-like personality of yours.”
“Well, we can’t just all wear our hearts on our sleeves like you do, Ms. Somerset,” Serenity said primly.
“Oooooh,” Willow exclaimed teasingly. “Nasty with class. I like that.”
Serenity was doing her best not to smile again.
Seeing it, Willow added solemnly, “I want to be like you when I’m reincarnated.”
This time, the smile won over the ice, but before Serenity could say something else, the intercom in the kitchen rang. “Excuse me,” Serenity murmured before taking the call. The conversation was entirely in Dutch, but when the girl’s eyes darted towards her, Willow knew whatever it was had something to do with her.
When Serenity put the receiver back down, she asked, “What is it?”
“Mr. Manolis and Ms. Mendel have arrived.”
Chapter Six
He was right about her all along.
Cold contempt glinted in Stavros’ eyes as he watched Willow flirt her way around the room. She was every inch the hussy he had realized her to be, and this time, she wasn’t even doing a fucking thing to hide it.
“Stavros, stop looking at her,” Ingrid hissed while forcing herself to keep smiling. She would never live this down. The entire time they had been here on Willem de Konigh’s yacht, the Greek billionaire hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the fat blonde cow, and everyone had noticed.
She could see it in their eyes. She could see it in the way they didn’t try that hard to hide their smirks. She could practically hear their thoughts. The bitchy heiress had it coming.
Stavros was still ignoring her. If she were honest, he had started ignoring her since she had thrown herself at him this morning. He had been chillingly polite with her after that, and she knew it was only Stavros’ deeply ingrained manners that had kept him from retracting his word when he had agreed to be her date to today’s race.
Of course, right now, maybe it would have been better if she had just graciously stepped aside. At least she could have made up some excuse and saved face. But now?
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Ingrid almost stomped her foot in frustration. But the words fell on deaf ears, the billionaire’s intense dark gaze still fixed on the big-ass whore he had an affair with.
God, what a ghastly gold-digger that cow was. It was just so irritating, the way she didn’t seem to give a damn that everyone in the room knew who she was or, rather, who she had been in Stavros Manolis’ life.
Forcing herself to study her rival, Ingrid found the woman dwarfed by her circle of admirers. She was laughing out loud, the sound grating on Ingrid’s nerves, and her teeth gnashed when the besotted fools surrounding the cow laughed with her.
Oh my God…that laugh! How could they not find it as abominably crass as she did?
Beside her, Stavros suddenly stiffened, and following his gaze, Ingrid realized that one of the men was inching too close to the cow.
Her head snapped towards Stavros. “Don’t you dare—”
But Stavros had already taken a step forward.
She tried not to be so obvious as she went after him, hissing, “I will never forgive you if you go to her.”
But he was still moving forward, practically prowling like a damn predator about to pounce on his unsuspecting prey.
Nearly tripping on her own shoes, Ingrid caught up with him and threatened, “I’m going to make a scene—”
Stavros stilled.
Ingrid started to smile, thinking the threat had worked, but then Stavros turned his head towards her.
Ingrid paled.
Everyone around them quieted, seeing the look Stavros Manolis had dealt Ingrid with.
Never had Stavros look so beautiful, but never had he looked so icily furious either.
He was so mad, and she was so turned on. But she had gone too far, Ingrid realized, and this man may never take her to bed again.
“Darling, I’m sorry.” She stammered the apology out, desperate to make amends.
But the coldness didn’t leave his face.
“Ingrid.” His voice was lethally soft. “Get lost.”
Two simple words, but the wealth of meaning behind it made Ingrid’s cheeks burn with humiliation. It was a warning, and if she dared follow him again, Stavros would cease being…polite.
When Stavros started walking away again, she knew that everyone wouldn’t have a hard time understanding what had just happened.
Ingrid Mendel had been dumped.
She spun around on her heels and fled.
****
“It appears Mr. Manolis has cut ties with Ms. Mendel.” Serenity’s lovely robotic voice came through the earpiece. The younger girl had insisted on it, telling Willow that she would do the stalking for her. It was absolutely imperative, Serenity had stressed, that Willow flirted with other men without ever looking Stavros’ way.
Of course, the last one had been easier said than done. Every second had been a struggle, and Willow had to constantly remind herself that not looking at Stavros was the only way to ensure his gaze stayed on her.
As she pretended to listen and laugh at whatever the Arab sheikh next to her was saying, her mind was whirling, unable to grasp what Serenity had just said. What the heck did cut ties mean? The term was so damn vague and precise at the same time. Why couldn’t Serenity just speak like a normal nineteen year old?
Serenity’s voice piped up again in her ear. “Mr. Manolis is heading your way.”
The announcement came out of nowhere, making Willow jump in surprise and exclaim, “What?”
The sheikh appeared startled. “What – what?” He looked at her with more lust than concern, asking, “Are you all right?” He reached for her eagerly, seeing a chance to cop a feel.
Even as she deftly avoided the sheikh’s touch by turning sideways, Willow said with a smile, “I’m fine, Your Highness.” After the last ten minutes, rejecting his advances without causing offense had become a piece of cake.
Good job on handling the sheikh, Ms. Somerset.
Why, that nasty blonde robot! Willow’s teeth gnashed. It was just like Serenity not to help her despite knowing Willow’s predicament.
Also, Mr. Manolis is right behind you.
WHAAAAAT?
A hand settled on her waist, and the familiar feel of the touch turned her mind into a blank.
Stavros.
Even if she hadn’t known it was Stavros Manolis, the way all the men around her except for the sheikh immediately left was a dead giveaway. She had seen him do the same thing countless times in corporate events, using his intimidating presence to get rid of people he didn’t like without saying a word.
In front of her, the sheikh said warily, “Manolis.”
“Sheikh Abdullah.” Stavros stood so close to her she could feel his breath caress her nape as he spoke. She tried not to shiver but failed, every cell of her body prickling in excited awareness of his proximity.
Silence followed, the sheikh looking more uncomfortable by the second while, beside her, Stavros remained chillingly aloof.
Willow was beginning to feel faint. The longer Stavros stood next to her, the more she felt like the whole thing was a dream and there were just two of them in the room. She started to stir, the tension getting to her, and it seemed to act like a cue, Stavros suddenly speaking, his voice abrupt and low as he asked, “May I speak with you?”
Willow froze.
Before she could think of what to say, Serenity chose that moment to play the devil’s advocate, whispering into her ear, “Make him hate you.”
Jesus H. Christ! Willow jumped at Serenity’s sudden interruption.
Stavros frowned when Willow jerked like someone who had been stung by a bee.
Damn you, Serenity Raleigh. I’m going to kill you for this. But deep i
nside Willow knew the reminder had been necessary. Uncertainty assailed her as she considered what she planned to do, but she told herself she had to give this a shot. She had tried to be nice this morning, and what had it gotten her besides heartbreak?
Serenity was right.
Nice wouldn’t cut it now.
This time, she was going to be bad.
Tearing the wireless earpiece off and sliding it into the pocket of her dress, Willow twisted her head to the side to look up at Stavros with exaggerated wide-eyed surprise. “Did I hear you right, Mr. Manolis?” Something came over her then, and she let her lips curve in a playful smile. “You want to…talk?” It was like being possessed by a Southern belle ghost, and the innuendo she injected into the last word made it easy for anyone to imagine what kind of talking she had in mind.
Before Stavros could answer, she stepped away, forcing him to release his hold on her waist. His eyes narrowed in warning as she moved towards the sheikh.
Don’t, those eyes said.
Her eyes laughed at him. Try stopping me.
Stavros found himself reluctantly mesmerized by the sensuous sway of her hips. Goddammit, those hips were still his weakness, and even now, even knowing what kind of woman she was, it made no difference to his cock, which was now fully erect and trying to burst out of his pants.
Willow stopped next to the sheikh. Glancing at Stavros below her lashes, she murmured, “I don’t think I can…talk right now, Mr. Manolis.” She pretended to think, her teeth sinking into the fullness of her bottom lip.
As the gesture drew Stavros’ attention to her rosy mouth, memories pummeled his mind, taunting him of the times he had that very mouth wrapped around his cock.
“I’m busy, you see…”
Stavros stiffened when Willow trailed her fingers over the sheikh’s arm, and a murderous rage burned inside him when he saw the sheikh tremble with unconcealed lust at the touch.
“The sheikh and I…” Moving in front of the sheikh, Willow lifted her hand from his arm and placed it on his chest.
The sheikh looked like he was about to die—
She smiled at the sheikh, saying, “We’re going to talk, too, aren’t we?”
The sheikh said dreamily, “Yes.” If he did die, it was clearly going to be a happy death.
Her hand started moving down.
The sheikh held his breath, and everyone who could see what she was doing held their breaths as well.
It didn’t happen.
The next thing she knew, Stavros had snatched her hand away from the sheikh and he was dragging her with him towards the doors.
Behind them, she heard the sheikh exclaim in surprise. “Where are you taking her?”
Stavros cursed.
Willow laughed.
She didn’t even try to stop him as he exited the yacht’s viewing hall, didn’t even bat an eyelash when Stavros shoved her inside one of the private antechambers. She remained still, a feminine sense of power filling her. The four walls surrounding her had framed photos of the royal family, each depicting a snippet of Continian history. They should have interested her since it was part of her job, but at that moment, Willow only had eyes for Stavros.
She was fascinated, excited, and oh God, she was turned on by the way Stavros was moving. Swift, graceful, precise, and commanding – he was a man on a mission, hell bent on locking her inside and ensuring their privacy.
When the last blinds were down, Stavros turned around to look at her, a six-foot-plus Greek god whose powerful frame was vibrating with fury and need.
Flipping her hair like she had been born doing it, Willow raised a brow. “Are you sure you’re man enough to talk to me?”
She was barely done talking when Stavros hauled her into his arms and crushed her mouth under his.
“Bitch,” he growled just before driving his tongue back into her mouth.
When he lifted his head for breath, she laughed tauntingly. “But you want this bitch.”
Stavros sucked hard on her lip in punishment.
Gasping, she retaliated by gripping his hair and trying to pull his head back. When he released her mouth, she immediately took his lip and bit, hard enough to taste blood.
“What the fuck?” But there was more desire in his voice than anger.
When he grasped the hem of her dress in a rough motion, she tried wriggling away, shaking her head. “Don’t rip my dress off!” When he kept pushing it up her thighs, she hissed, “I’ll have nothing to wear! You want everyone to see me naked?”
“Not if they fucking want to live,” Stavros bit out, but enough of his senses returned, and his hands became more careful as he pulled the dress up—
His eyes widened. Whipping the dress over her head and throwing it to the floor, Stavros saw that what he had suspected was true. “Goddammit, Willow.” He didn’t know what he wanted more – to kill her or fuck her. She was completely naked under the dress, and even as he automatically reached for her gloriously large breasts, he was already demanding an answer. “Why aren’t you wearing anything under the fucking dress?”
“Will you believe me if I told you a nineteen year old made me do it?”
Stavros pinched her nipples, making her moan. As her body arched towards him, he said gutturally, “It depends whether that nineteen year old has a dick—”
No longer in the mood to talk, Willow simply cut him off by cupping his face and kissing him.
Stavros shuddered at her kiss, but a moment later he wrestled control from her as his tongue laid claim to her mouth. The kiss became feral, mouths grinding, tongues mating, and at one point, she ended up scratching Stavros’ back with her nails.
Stavros tore his mouth away at the stinging marks she had left on his back. “What’s gotten into you?”
You, she wanted to say. But because she couldn’t admit that, she only raised a brow at Stavros. “Is this what my leaving turned you into? You like to talk with your mouth rather than your cock—”
His face hardening, he gritted out, “You really have become a bitch.” Unzipping himself, he pushed her down to the floor.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “And you talk too—”
Without warning, Stavros shoved his cock into her, and the rest of what she had to say turned into an incoherent moan.
Grabbing her by the hair, he began fucking her. It was a wordless, primal rutting, and the only sounds in the room were her pants, his grunts, and the rhythmic slap of his balls against her butt.
He hated her. She could feel it in each deep thrust of his cock into her sex. After this, he might even hate her more and hate himself. She knew all this, but it just didn’t matter. If this was the only way she could keep him hers—
If this was the only way she could keep him from other women—
Looking at him again, she taunted, “Is that the best you can—mmph.” Tightening his grip on her hair, Stavros pulled her head back and shut her up with a hard, open-mouthed kiss. He fucked her like that, his cock pounding into her, his tongue driving inside her mouth—
She screamed against his lips when she felt his hand under her body. He began torturing her clit, and she started begging him to stop. But he didn’t. He pinched, twisted, yanked, and the pain was so exquisite it turned into the most unbelievably acute sense of pleasure.
“I’m cooooooming!” No sooner had she moaned the words out did it happen, a powerful orgasm that took her senses by storm. As her body shook with every creamy discharge from her sex, Stavros didn’t stop pounding into her, over and over, until he, too, was coming. One after another, he shot his cum into her, his hips slamming hard against her with each expulsion.
A second later, she was slumped on the floor, her butt in the air.
And Stavros still wasn’t finished.
Her eyes widened in alarm when she felt her being flipped on her back. “No.” But her whispered protest was completely ignored as Stavros pushed her legs wide open. She tried to pull away, forcing herself up on her elbow
s, but there was no escaping—
“AAAAAAH!” Her head fell back as Stavros pushed his cock into her again.
He started slow and steady, each thrust firm but leisurely, but even so the pleasure was too much for her sensitive flesh. Her eyes rolled back, and by the time Stavros started thrusting faster and faster, Willow was no longer able to do anything but surrender herself to his mastery.
When he started to come, he took her along with him, his nimble fingers working its magic on the swollen bud hidden behind her folds.
When she woke up, she was still naked and on the floor, and he was gone.
Someone was knocking on the door. “Ms. Somerset?”
“S-sorry, hang on a minute.” With trembling fingers, she reached for her dress and, pushing herself up, she shakily put her dress back on. She opened the door and found Serenity looking human again, an apprehensive expression on her face.
“Ms. Somerset, are you…all right?”
“Yeah.” There wasn’t anything else to say, even if she wasn’t certain it was the truth.
“You’re certain, Ms. Somerset?”
Willow managed a wobbly smile. “Did I mention you’re a genius? Our plan worked.” And it had. Stavros hated her. He wouldn’t have left her if he hadn’t hated her. But that was fine, right? As long as he hated her, everything would be fine.
Right?
A sob escaped Willow, and she hastily choked it back. “Sorry.” She gazed fixedly on the floor, not wanting the younger girl to see how hard it was for her not to break down.
Over her head, she heard Serenity say gravely, “I’m sorry, too, Ms. Somerset. I’m sorry that you seemed to have fallen for a man who doesn’t deserve—”
“No.” She lifted her head, wanting Serenity to see the truth in her eyes, the truth that her heart knew even if the rest of the world saw it differently.
“You don’t understand.” Swallowing past the pain, she tried to make Serenity see Stavros the way Willow saw him. “You’ve only seen Stavros when he’s…hurting. But when he’s not…”
Her voice caught.
