The Art of Trusting a Greek Billionaire(5)
“Oh God, tell you?” She repeated his words with a choked, tear-stained laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
“I won’t believe you because it’s not true.” He wanted to force Mairi to see the truth in his words, but instead of shaming her into confessing that it was all a lie or a game to her, Mairi only sobbed harder.
“Tell you,” she repeated again. “Tell you where I'm coming from, you say. Fine – I’ll tell you.” Wiping the tears from her gaze, Mairi said, “I was young when my parents died and my mom’s older sisters took me in. They were both career-driven and childless and they didn’t know what to do with me. But because they loved me, they tried their best. And because I was used to being lulled to sleep with bedtime stories, they gave me that – only, their version of bedtime stories were found in drugstore paperbacks, where the heroes were almost always Greek billionaires and the girls were ordinary and nice and simple. Girls like me,” she said bitterly, “—and guys like you, in other words.”
When Mairi looked at Damen, her face was ravaged with tears but her eyes were completely clear – completely transparent. “That’s why I fell in love with you so quickly. I thought you were like those guys from the books, but…you’re not. You’re not.”
The way she looked at him stung. The way she spoke about him hurt. Again, he felt himself becoming defensive and he snapped, “Of course I’m not like them – I’m goddamn real and they’re not!”
But she only shook her head.
“Do you know how crazy you sound?” he demanded, furious at the way she was still looking at him and furious at the way she made him feel wrong for not believing in her bat-crazy story.
“If you think I’m—”
“I don’t care what you think! It’s the truth! I’m a crazy girl for taking one look at you and thinking that you’re the Greek billionaire I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I take one look at you and forget about the other Greek billionaire I met. I took one look at you and I fell in love with you! I’m that kind of crazy girl so please—” Her voice broke.
Her head dropped. “Please,” she choked out. “Please just leave me alone and let me cure myself out of my insanity.”
The words destroyed him. As she cried in front of him, Damen tried to think of a way to make it better again for her – for him – for them. There was something to fix – but what? He wished he goddamn knew what exactly was wrong between them so he could do something.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he gritted out. He ached to hold her, to have her back in his arms, but he knew he would kill any remaining pride in her if he did. The way she looked at him told Damen that she would give in if he did touch her – and if she did, she would hate herself for it.
“It has to be,” she whispered, still not looking at him. “You’re right, Damen. I know you’re right. I’m crazy for falling in love with you just like that, and believe me – believe me when I tell you that I’m doing my best to stop.” She stopped, needing a moment to just breathe through the suffocating pain inside her.
Right now, all she could think of was how Damen was so close but she could never hold him now, could never touch him or kiss him because he had never been hers.
Oh God, oh God, he had taken her to his bed, had made her bleed with his cock inside her but all the time he had not been hers.
A great racking sob shook her body and she felt faint, nearly light-headed with the pain. “Please, Damen,” Mairi whispered. “I have no pride left. I’ll beg if I have to. Please…please leave me alone.”
Chapter Four
To trust a Greek billionaire, one must remember that their pride will make them more willing to listen to their rival than the woman they love.
She said (with a gasp): Is this true?
He said (with a tight-lipped look): The editor must have misinterpreted my Greek.
He said: Note to editor – I told you to reword this and make it sound more reasonable and less emotional, dammit!
Damen was half-slouched on the luxurious leather couch next to the thirty-foot-tall windows of the gentlemen’s club he belonged to. It was an old and old-fashioned establishment, with membership “inherited” rather than purchased. In keeping with tradition, women – with absolutely no exceptions – were forbidden entry. All those employed by the club were also men.
With the mood he was in, it was the best place for Damen to be.
As Damen drank the rest of his whiskey, the alert waiter standing behind him immediately came forward to pour him another shot the moment he set the glass on the table.