Forever and Ever, My Greek Billionaire(2)

She remembered the pained disbelief in his eyes, and it was all over for her. Even with no damn thunderstorm to hide her tears, it was all over. She started to cry, in broad daylight, in public, in front of his own damn building.

Hand shaking, she reached for the player attached to her wrist to turn up the volume to max. She wanted to drown her ears with the music so she couldn’t hear anything else, couldn’t think or feel anything else except the song filling her ears.

But it didn’t work.

And soon, she couldn’t hear the song at all.

Soon, all Willow could hear were her own despairing thoughts, voiceless prayers that she recited every night as she cried herself to sleep.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Please don’t go to someone else until you realize that I never stopped loving you.

Please.





Chapter One





[No expense was spared for Willow’s sendoff party. She had insisted on this herself and didn’t allow her father to contribute a single euro to it. She wanted the affair to be a night to remember, wanted it so fun and chaotic that maybe for her it would be the opposite, and the party could make her forget.

The lights in the nightclub she had rented for the night were a disorienting array of bright, blinking colors, the music deafening, the drinks overflowing. Everyone was laughing and screaming to make themselves heard. Everyone dazzled in their jewelry and their clothes. Strangers all of them, friends of friends, clients and partners at Hamnet – she hadn’t really been picky when it came to sending out invitations.

She wanted herself surrounded.

She was now, but she had never felt so alone.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.

She clung to it like always, saying the word over and over in her mind just so she could at least have something to do – anything except remember what she didn’t want to remember. Over and over, the word played in her mind as she forced herself to mingle. She smiled, she laughed, she danced – she was a Willow Somerset that no one had ever seen before.

Everyone loved this new Willow, and she had never hated herself more.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Her hand started to move, reaching for her purse, where her phone was. She had her favorite songs reserved there – her own version of coping. As long as she listened to the songs, she could pretend that everything would be okay.

One day, she would have him back in her life.

Her hand found her phone inside her bag.

One day.

But it was too late. The songs couldn’t help her now, not when she heard a familiar voice utter her name. “Willow.”





****





Stavros knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. If he had a fucking ounce of pride left in him, he would have been as far away from this place as possible, preferably in the company of other women, just to show that life still went on for him.

But no, he had done the opposite.

Despite learning she had fooled him all along, had used him to get a publishing deal with Willem de Konigh – none of it seemed to make a difference. He was empty without her. And he was sick of the feeling.

“Willow.” He said her name more for his benefit than anything else. He looked at her, and even with her back to him, she was still the most beautiful person in his eyes. The way her dark hair fell in thick, shiny waves against her back, the way her sequined dress clung to her shapely curves—

Every inch of her was perfect.

With her this close, he could no longer stop himself.

He had to touch her.

He just fucking had to.

“Willow.” As he said her name, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he spun her around so their eyes could meet.

The hot, familiar feel of the hand gripping her wrist knocked the breath out of Willow. Before she knew what was happening, she was already facing him, their eyes clashing in an instant.

Oh.

For one painful moment, all she could do was stare. Oh God, how she stared. She missed everything about him, missed the time when she could stare at him all she wanted.

He was gorgeous all over. His silky black hair, his perfectly arched, oh-so-expressive eyebrows, his dark eyes, his high-bridged nose, his aristocratic cheeks, his lovely thin lips, his hard jaw…

She wanted, needed, wished she could stare at him forever.

She was this close to begging.

But then she saw it –

The mistrust in his eyes that Stavros couldn’t quite hide—

And she knew it just wasn’t time for her to beg.

“You’re really going then?” Stavros knew he wasn’t supposed to ask that either. But he had to. He wanted to give her another chance to take it all back, wanted to give her even just the chance to lie and keep pretending she hadn’t stayed with him for the fucking opportunity to get the contract with Willem de Konigh.