“Your seat, Ms. Somerset.” The attendant pulled out the chair for her.
“Thank you.” She had barely seated herself when another attendant pulled out the chair next to her.
“Your seat, Mr. Manolis.”
Her head jerked up, and her astonishment was mirrored in Stavros’ eyes.
“Willow.” He slowly took his seat next to her.
“Stavros.” She tried not to seem desperate as she looked around. Everywhere was safer except him. The royal ballroom was huge, probably the same size as the Madison Square Garden but as elegant as an art gallery in France. There weren’t that many guests, probably just under two hundred, all close friends and relatives of the royal family.
Knowing there was no other way to go about his apology, Stavros said tersely, “I’m sorry.”
Was he? She couldn’t be sure, not when his apology sounded forced, as if Stavros was being made to eat a handful of nails.
Right now, there wasn’t anyone sitting with them yet, but Stavros knew it was only a matter of time before their table would be completely occupied. He had to clear things up with her before that happened. When the silence became unbearable, he gritted out, “Say something, dammit.”
Still not looking at him, Willow asked lightly, “Sorry for what? For leaving me on the floor like a paid whore?”
Color stained his cheeks, but even so, Stavros forced himself to acknowledge the truth in her words. “Yes. I’m sorry for that among other things. I won’t do it again.”
“Do what?” Finally, she looked at him, and she taunted in a low, throaty voice, “Not fuck me again?”
Stavros stiffened when under the table, Willow placed a hand on his thigh. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Have you fucked Ingrid Mendel since that day?”
“No.”
Her hand moved up. “Have you fucked any other—”
“If you really want to know,” Stavros bit out, “then no, I can’t even get my damn cock up for any other woman since that night.”
Her hand went straight to his cock, and she purred, “But it’s up now.”
Stavros’ entire body shuddered at the touch. “What the hell are you playing at?”
Her lips curved. “You really have to ask?” As she spoke, her fingers wrapped around his length and started stroking, up and down.
He made himself ask. “You need something from me, don’t you?”
Ah. She almost released him at his question. It hurt so much to know that it was the only reason he could think of to explain her interest in him.
She was still giving him a hand job, the most arousing hand job he had ever had, but she didn’t seem inclined at all to answer him.
Willow started in her seat when his fingers wrapped around her wrist under the table and tightened, keeping it from moving.
“No more games,” Stavros gritted out. “What do you want?”
She had dozens of answers to that. She wanted him. Wanted to be married to him, be loved by him. She wanted to live with him, wanted to sleep in his arms—
God, so many answers and yet she couldn’t say any of them.
“Willem made a move on you, hasn’t he? And you refused him?”
Her mouth opened and closed. Where the heck had he gotten that from? Her head snapped towards him, and she was even more stunned to see how serious he was. He really did believe something was going on between her and her new boss.
Her first instinct was to move her hand to his balls and then squeeze them dry as punishment. How many times – how many times, dammit, would he keep thinking the worst of her before he understood she really did love him?
But then common sense kicked in, along with a healthy dose of shrewd ideas and wildly desperate hopes, and Willow heard herself ask, “And if it’s true?”
“Then I already know what you need.”
“Y-you do?”
“You’re a smart woman, Willow. I’m sure you can figure it out. Your job’s on the line. It became so the moment you refused to be his mistress.”
A devil prompted her into saying, “Actually he wanted me as a wife.”
“No fucking way.”
“Yep. But I refused because he wanted to make me sign a pre-nup first.”
“Understandable.”
She raised her chin. “Not in my book.”
A look of disgust flickered in Stavros’ face. “You can’t seriously think you can persuade a billionaire to marry you without a pre-nup.”
She looked at him under her lashes.
His lips twisted. “Funny. Fucking funny.”
She wriggled her hand out of his hold and when he let her go, she started stroking him again. She couldn’t help it. His cock was like a magnet, and it needed to be in her hand, mouth, or pussy. As she stroked him, he jerked in her hand, and she smiled. “You were saying?”