by Marian Tee
Only three and a half minutes passed before Stavros’ familiar-looking limousine rolled to a stop in front of her. How did he get here so quickly? Could it be he was already in the area, wanting to ask her out?
When the chauffeur stepped out, the familiar face had her smiling. A former soldier, Perrin had been one of Stavros’ drivers in America as well. “Good morning, Perrin.”
“Good morning, Ms. Somerset.”
“Could you tell the mother---” Shiiiiiiit. It was one thing to call him that in private, another thing to call Stavros the same thing in front of his staff. She corrected herself hastily, saying, “Could you, umm, tell Mr. Manolis I would rather he came out and opened the door for me?”
The chauffeur gaped at her. “Umm…” He didn’t move, looking at her searchingly, as if wondering where her mind went and if it would come back in time for her to change her mind.
She smiled brightly at him. “Please?”
Perrin slowly nodded. “Yes, Ms. Somerset.” He went back in, and after a moment, the passenger door opened and six-feet-plus of sheer Greek gorgeousness stepped out.
Shiiiiiiiit.
Willow’s breath caught. How the hell had she managed to forget how beautiful Stavros Manolis was? She couldn’t stop staring as Stavros came to her, his stride a display of fluid grace. Oh, that hair she so loved to touch, that face she so loved to gaze at, and that hard, powerful body that could make her own body melt at the lightest graze---
Stavros came to a stop a few inches from her.
So perfectly---
“What the hell are you playing at, you little witch?”
---rude, and only when it came to her.
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Don’t pretend you’re polite, it doesn’t become you.” But his cross tone was at odds with his touch, his knuckles grazing her cheek ever so softly, like a silent apology.
It was painfully hard to resist rubbing her cheek against his hand, but she managed. Soon, Willow promised herself. Once he realized the truth, she would spend hours rubbing herself against his body like a little kitty.
Looking up, she asked mischievously, “Well?”
One elegant brow went up. Well, what?
Ah, that raised eyebrow of his. It was the sexiest thing on earth. It really was. “Aren’t you going to open the door for me?”
Color marked Stavros’ cheeks. He hesitated a second before slowly reaching for her hand. Their fingers clasped, and both of them stilled as something sparked between them.
Stavros was the first to recover, his fingers tightening as he walked her to the car. He opened the door for her, something he always did in the past, but for some reason today it had her heartbeat tripling its rate.
“Is there a particular café you’d like to go to?”
She shook her head.
At her answer, Stavros instructed Perrin to head downtown, naming a coffee shop that Willow had never been to. It was a short ten-minute ride, but oh, every minute was spent in charged silence. The two of them didn’t look at each other, didn’t talk to each other, but their fingers remained clasped between them. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, and every stroke sent an electrifying tingle down her spine, making Willow constantly wet her lips as she struggled not to let the motherfucker know how much he excited her.
With Willow gazing out of the window, Stavros’ own gaze frequently strayed towards her. Had she always looked this sensual, he wondered uneasily. The sight of her – so beautifully dolled up and waiting for him – had virtually knocked him off his feet. It was all Stavros could do not to yank Willow to him and devour her plump lips.
Looking at her, feeling her so close to him, had Stavros drowning in memories, and it wasn’t just of them kissing and making each other come. She made him remember everything, every beautiful moment spent in her company, and because of it, he ached, even as he continued to fight against drowning.
By the time they reached the café, he was breathing hard while she was breathless. Stavros had to let go of Willow’s hand to step out of the limousine, and the fierce reluctance that swamped him at the thought almost had a humorless laugh escaping him. Fuck. Why did he always feel so strongly about this woman? Why?
Seeing Stavros waiting for her outside the car had Willow swallowing back a sigh. This was so stupid, she thought. She had seen him in the same damn position so many times when she had been working for him. So why, dammit, why did it seem so different – so special – now?
When Stavros reached to help her out of the car, Willow placed one trembling hand in his. For one moment, they stood close to each other, their gazes clashing.
Say it, Willow thought. Say it, say it, say it---
Stavros started to speak.
She held her breath.
“Is there anything on my face?”
Willow’s jaw dropped. Shiiiiiiiit. How could he be so dense? But then she caught his lips twitching, and she gasped, realizing he had been playing her. “You motherfucking---”
Stavros lifted a brow. You think that’s the way to make me fall for you?
She shut up, and she was soon rewarded by a brief but toe-curling smile.
“Shall we?” Stavros’ husky voice kept her toes curled. It made walking a lot more difficult, made her feel she had hooves instead of feet, but Willow somehow managed.
Stavros chose a corner table next to the windows. The café had a Parisian vibe to it, and the menu was similarly inspired. “I’ll choose for the two of us. Is that okay?” she asked sweetly.
“Of course.” Stavros’ voice was polite this time, and Willow knew that his inner self-defense mechanism had kicked in.
As she gave her order to the waiter, Stavros’ brow went up. One slice of red velvet cake and one large caramel frappe? After, he saw Willow murmuring additional instructions and when the waiter left, he asked, “I thought you were ordering for both of us?”
“I did.” Her smile turned sly the only way Willow’s smile could. “We’re sharing.”
What the fuck? When Willow only kept smiling slyly at him, it took extra effort for Stavros not to kiss and snarl at her at the same time.
“You don’t want to?” Willow pouted. She had never done it before, but it seemed like pouting became an inherent skill because of that feeling.
Fuck. Willow’s pout had a rather powerful effect on his lower region, and he shifted in his seat. The little witch, Stavros thought, his teeth clenching. She was seducing him in broad daylight, and it was fucking working. Now, all he could think of was biting and sucking that full lower lip of hers until she was moaning and begging for his kiss.
“Stavros?” A questioning glance slanted towards him under long dark lashes, and the temperature in the café shot up in an instant as his body heated. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to fuck Willow with the way she was looking at him now.
“It doesn’t matter either way.” He kept his voice stiff, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way lust had thickened his voice. Fuck. He wanted to fuck her now.
Willow struggled not to smile. “I see,” she murmured with feigned meekness. When he didn’t say anything else, she stole a look at him---
Shiiiiiiit.
The intense look in his eyes made Willow’s breasts slowly swell prominently against the silky confines of her blouse. Oh God, he was practically undressing her with that wicked hot gaze of his, and the fact that it was Stavros Manolis doing it, in public –
If they weren’t in such a public place, Willow would have probably taken off her clothes then and there. Utterly shameless, she knew, but that was how much this man meant to her, and she was done denying the truth.
“You think you have me wrapped around your little finger, witch?” His voice was thicker now, fiercer, reminding her of how his own thick, aggressive cock.
Shiiiiiiiit. She was such a perv. Swallowing, she stammered breathlessly, “D-do I?”
Stavros didn’t answer, but his fucking heart began beating hard at the way Will
ow was gazing at him. Forever, Stavros thought broodingly. It felt like fucking forever since he had felt this alive, and it was ironic, that he also hadn’t felt this close to drowning.
As the silence between them stretched, Willow’s courage wavered, past memories intruding and injecting fear into her heart. She remembered, and what she remembered…hurt.
But then, Willow remembered something else. She remembered last night. She remembered, and this time, what she remembered filled a bit more of the hole in her heart, just enough to give her the courage to lift her blue green eyes to meet his.
The emotions she saw in his had Willow sucking in her breath, and she whispered shakily, “I do…don’t I?”
Still, Stavros didn’t speak, but the way his hand on the table slowly clenched into a fist, the way his entire body visibly tensed –
Willow had all the answer she needed.
Before she could say something else, the waiter had come back, serving them her coffee and cake, together with a dessert fork and a pair of straws. When she glanced at Stavros, his eyebrow had gone up. One fork and two straws – seriously?
But all Willow gave him was an innocent smile, and Stavros’ jaw clenched. It stayed like that as he watched Willow place two straws in the ice-cold frappe before setting the glass between them. Then she looked at him expectantly.
Stavros answered her silent invitation with a frosty look, and Willow burst into laughter even as she reminded him, “You promised.”
The words had him stiffening. He had promised, but he had never thought she would ask something this…insane. “What’s gotten into you, dammit?” Stavros gritted out.
Instead of answering, she took a sip, holding out his straw at the same time. Willow almost choked on her frappe when Stavros slowly and carefully reached for his straw like it was made of fragile glass.
Silly beautiful man, Willow thought.
Stavros started sipping, pure torture written all over his gorgeous face, and Willow almost lost it. Her shoulders did start to shake a little though, and Stavros’ gaze narrowed in furious warning at her.
Laugh. And you die.
Since she wanted to live a little longer, she worked hard to heed his threat. An idea occurred to her out of the blue, and she momentarily stopped sipping. So did Stavros.
She called for the waiter and when the man came over, she took out her phone from her purse and handed it to him. “Could you take a photo of us please?”
“Of course, Ms. Somerset.”
Willow blinked in shock. How did he know---
Stavros shook his head in exasperation. “Haven’t you checked today’s papers? You’re all over the news.”
Willow cringed. “I didn’t even think to check.” She had been so excited about today she hadn’t been able to think of anything else. Willow forced herself to shrug in the end. “What’s done is done,” she mumbled and tapped their frappe.
Stavros’ brow shot up. Excuse me? Do you really mean what I think you mean?
Her anxiety at being the focus of a new round of gossip lessened. Thank God for that look. Nothing made her feel safe and not so alone when she had that look to enjoy.
Smiling in the face of his incredulity, she said simply, “You promised.”
Stavros winced, but the reminder worked, as expected, and he dutifully – albeit reluctantly as well – bent close to take a sip of the frappe with her.
“One, two, three!” A clicking sound came from Willow’s iPhone.
As they both straightened, another idea occurred to her. “Wait, another shot please? This time, I’ll feed him cake.” Ignoring Stavros’ murderous look, Willow pulled the plate of cake towards her. Using the dessert fork, she cut out a bite-sized piece.
“Say aah,” she told Stavros with a grin.
Stavros smiled. “I’d rather kill you.” But he also opened his mouth in the end.
Willow fed him his cake.
Click.
When the waiter left, she was stunned when Stavros took the fork from her and began methodically demolishing the cake. The plate was empty in less than a minute. “Are you that hungry?”
“Just making sure you have nothing else to feed me with,” Stavros answered bluntly.
Oh. Her heart sank a little as Stavros then proceeded to do the same thing with the frappe, but she told herself it wasn’t the motherfucker’s fault. He didn’t know anything about her plans for today, after all.
“That was fast,” she told him afterwards.
He didn’t answer.
She laughed. “Brainfreeze, right? Admit it.”
Stavros’ lip curled.
She laughed harder. “You’re not fooling me one bit.”
Only when it was safe to speak and his head didn’t hurt so much did he ask, “What’s next?”
Willow shook her head with a smile. “Nothing.”
Stavros’ brow arched. What do you mean?
“Exactly that,” she clarified, the same tiny unreadable smile playing on Willow’s luscious lips. “This is it for us.”
Stavros stilled. “You mean it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.” His voice was tense and abrupt.
“I thought you wouldn’t---”
“Willow.” His jaw clenched. What the fuck did this all mean? Was she fucking playing with him? Was that what this whole seven-day-bullshit was all about?
“Oh, Stavros.” His name slipped out of her lips in a whisper. She could see it in his eyes. He thought it was all a game to her…when it was the exact opposite. He was the one who had been playing with her from the very start.
And yet, she still felt that feeling for him.
“Tell me,” she invited shakily. “If another woman asked you to do all the things I asked you to, would you have?”
Stavros stiffened. This time, he was able to read between the lines, and what he realized made his entire world start to sink.
“You see it, don’t you?” Willow pressed quietly. Again, she remembered, again, she hurt, but because this man was…this man was the only one for her, she knew she had to take the risk.
“You see the difference, don’t you, Stavros? Between me…and the others?” Shiiiiiiit, there was that damn jackhammer again, drilling holes into spaces that had just been filled by Stavros’ presence.
“Everything we’ve done, the simple things, the little things…” Willow’s smile wobbled on her lips as she searched for the right words to say. “They couldn’t ever have the power to make you smile or angry unless they’re done by a person who matters. More than anyone else.”
Stavros’ expression became shuttered.
Willow lowered her head. Please, please, please say something—
“You matter.”
Willow’s head jerked up.
Stavros’ lips twisted. “But I don’t love you.”
Ah. Willow exhaled. If only, she thought, she could expel the pain in her heart just as easily. She took a deep breath, telling herself that this was just the first day. She inhaled, again and again, until she managed to smile.
Stavros drew his own breath sharply at the smile. It was both terrible and lovely at the same time, and somehow, it reminded him of how only this woman could make him feel like flying and drowning all at once.
“Willow---”
Slowly, she climbed to her feet. “Until tomorrow then.”
Stavros shot up with a frown. “You’re really leaving?”
Instead of answering him, she just hurried away.
What the fuck? “Willow…” He knew the right thing to do was to let her go, for both their sakes, but instead he found himself hurrying after her. He caught her just as she was about to hail a cab, and he forcibly pulled her hand down.
“Stavros, let go.”
“Are you fucking mad at me?”
“Yes.” She was shouting. In front of a crowded café and in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh God, her father was going to kill her, but despite knowing that, she
couldn’t make herself stop.
“I am mad at you!” She wasn’t really. In truth, she was hurting, but she didn’t want him to know that because she didn’t want to lose what little pride she had left.
“And you know why?” Willow was still shouting, and she started poking his chest with each word.
Stavros’ face hardened when he saw people passing by slow down at the sight of them. “Let’s take this inside the car---”
“No!” She yanked her hand out of his hold.
He swore under his breath. “This is crazy---”
Willow shook her head. “No.” Her shoulders slumped, and all the fight in her disappeared, just like that. “You know what’s crazy?” she whispered.
He said tightly, “This is not the place---”
She continued like she hadn’t heard him speak. “What’s crazy is that you think you can push me away.” The smile on her lips didn’t reach her eyes as she said, “You can’t.”
Fuck.
Stavros wanted to close his eyes, wanted to stop seeing the pain on Willow’s face because he knew it was entirely his fault. “Willow…I won’t love you.”
Willow didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Not can’t but won’t. Was that good or bad? She no longer knew, could no longer think. All that was clear to her was that whatever he said, she loved him. Had always loved him.
The look in her eyes slayed him. Why? Why did he keep hurting her? He caught hold of her hand. “I’m sorry,” he heard himself say, “but this isn’t ever going to work---”
“Stavros.”
He stopped speaking.
Willow raised her hand, his fingers encircled around her wrist. “Look at us, Stavros,” she whispered painfully. “You say you won’t love me, but who’s the one holding on?”
Stavros whitened.
And then the truth of her words hit him raw, and Stavros dropped Willow’s hand like her touch had suddenly burned him. A stricken expression crossed her face at his reaction, and Stavros cursed under his breath.
A part of him knew that they would be tomorrow’s talk of the town again, with the way they were practically baring their souls for the entire city’s entertainment, but he no longer cared.
