The Art of Wedding a Greek Billionaire (14 page)

He said: But not all of them are the bad sort.

She said: I disagree. Every secret is bad, but you probably won’t ever see it my way. You’re a Greek billionaire, Damen – and not an ordinary one at that. There’s not a day that a part of me isn’t terrified you’ll suddenly realize I’m not good enough for you and so the secrets…they make me insecure. Because I love you so much—

(Editor’s note: To be continued tomorrow. Couple had sex. Again.)
 

“Hit me with it.” The words came from Willow Somerset, the newest junior editor of Hamnet, Greece’s most prestigious publishing firm. Even though the half-Greek brunette was only twenty-three, she looked more like the office’s resident frump with her plastic-framed glasses, shapeless mud-colored three-piece pantsuit, and a pair of murderously heavy-looking clogs.
 

Without missing a beat, Damen bent forward, acting as if he was about to hit the bubble of gum that his editor was trying to blow into a huge pink balloon. Although no one else was inside the conference room with them, the walls around them were entirely made of glass. If just one of Willow’s bosses saw their junior editor right now, that was it for them, their deal possibly being nullified even before it reached acquisitions.
 

Willow’s blue-green eyes widened when she saw Damen Leventis’ ridiculously good-looking face move towards her, the evil gleam in his silver-flecked eyes making his intent to burst her bubble – literally – very clear.
 

Damen lifted his hand, about to “hit” her with it.

Shit!
Willow immediately snapped her gum back into her mouth, glaring at her client as she did.

“There. That’s better.” Damen settled back on his seat, satisfied that he had made his point.

“It’s just gum,” Willow grumbled.

The ex-billionaire only looked at her.

She tried to resist the temptation to squirm, reminding herself that in the normal scheme of things, she should be the one holding the power in this relationship. She was his editor. He was an author – heck, not even that since he had asked her to ghostwrite his proposal. Whatever. The point was, she should be the one with the upper hand, not him.

Damen Leventis was still looking at her.

God, he made her feel so immature.

With a muttered curse in Greek, Willow tore a piece of paper from her notepad, spit out her gum, and used the piece of paper to wrap the gum up before throwing it into the waste basket. “Satisfied?” she snarled.

He said bluntly, “No.”
 

Willow rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” In the months she had spent with Damen Leventis, she had come to understand that the older man was a slave driver and a perfectionist. It made her respect the hell out of his wife, definitely.

“I will not be satisfied until I’ve got my signature on a publishing contract.” His eyes narrowed warningly on his editor, their roles definitely reversed. Editors were supposed to be the ones dispensing advice to their clients, but in Damen and Willow’s case, Damen was the one constantly making sure that his young, rebellious, extremely outspoken, and proudly eccentric editor did not step out of line.

Of the editors he had sent feelers to about his proposal, only Willow had seriously considered his proposition. More than that, she was a damn good writer, too, having been able to pen a brilliant proposal and sample chapters for Damen in one day.
If only
, Damen thought exasperatedly as he took in Willow’s restless movements,
she acted and spoke as well as she wrote.
Right now, she was no different from a hyper teenager, unable to keep still in her seat, her fingers tapping noisily on the table.

“Keep still,” Damen ordered. With young girls like Willow, it was important to let one know who the voice of authority was.

“I’m too nervous,” Willow revealed reluctantly. Although Willow’s family owned Hamnet, she was still expected to prove her mettle. Of the many potential clients she had presented to the committee, only her proposal for publishing Damen Leventis’ unorthodox manual had been considered. And if she had to be honest, she wouldn’t even have gotten this far if the ex-billionaire had not forced Willow to listen to his advice.

“You’re too melodramatic,” Damen had told her the first time they met over lunch. “If you had been applying at my company—”

“Your
former
company, you mean,” she couldn’t help correcting.

Damen said evenly, “I would have dismissed you on the spot. Aside from being tactless, you appear to be unforgivingly passionate, which is likely to grate on most people’s nerves.”

Willow had choked in her indignation. “Are you telling me I shouldn’t be passionate about my job?”

“Of course not,” Damen had rejected impatiently. “Passion is something I admire and seek in every employee of my
former
company. But too much passion, too much zeal, makes an employee as irresponsible and undesirable as one without it at all. Even passion must be honed and made strategic. It’s how potential can be molded into talent, and later on, into a tangible asset.”

The words were harsh, but they had not been as disparaging as the ones Willow often received from most of her family. More importantly, Damen Leventis had not dismissed her as useless. Instead, he had, in a roundabout way, told her she had the kind of passion that could be turned into a profitable talent.

Willow had made up her mind after that. “I want to publish your manual.” And after that, the rest was her history as Damen Leventis’ unpaid and overworked slave.
 

Noticing the way his young companion was doing her best to chew her lower lip into pieces, Damen said with quiet assurance, “It will be all right.”

“I’m not worried. Are you worried?”

Damen ignored the blustery answer. “Would you like to practice pitching again?”

She shrugged. “If you need it.”

Too proud,
Damen thought, lips twitching. Oddly, it reminded him of Stavros Manolis, and an idea occurred to him. When he was done with all his troubles and he had given Mairi her happy-ever-after, he would make sure to find a way for Stavros and Willow to meet. He had a feeling that the two would hit it off right away, both of them being workaholics but with different perspectives about work. One was a cold-blooded tactician, the other a passionate advocate.

Out loud, he said dryly, “Yes, I do need it.”

Willow inhaled deeply. “Okay. Here goes.” She took another deep breath.

A few moments passed.

“I’m still waiting.”

“I’m building momentum.”

Damen rolled his eyes.

More moments passed.

“How much momentum do you need again?”

“Shut up.”

Damen shook his head. “Willow?” He waited until his editor faced him, and this time he saw how pale she was. Ah, damn. The girl had stage fright. This wasn’t good, for her or for him.

He picked up their twenty-page proposal from the table. “What’s this I’m holding, Willow?”

She frowned. “Our proposal of course.”

“How long have we been working on this?”

“Almost three months.” She paused. “But I was the one mostly working on it since you barely found time to meet up with me to check its progress.” Thinking back on the numerous sleepless nights she had spent slaving over the proposal, Willow crossed her arms over her chest with a disapproving frown. “Even the phone calls were infrequent.”

A faint flush of color stained Damen’s sculpted cheeks. “I apologize for that, but you do have the worst timing when it comes to calling me. This is my surprise for my wife, remember? I can’t have her figuring out what I’m planning.” Deciding to change the subject before the debate-loving Willow found a way to argue with him about it, Damen said, “This proposal means everything to both of us for different reasons.”

She nodded.

“Why is it important to you?”

“Because it’s my chance to prove that I deserve to work here and, eventually, lead Hamnet.”

“Good. And why do you think our proposal is worthy of being published?”

“Because you’re a controversial figure, and autobiographies or semi-autobios by controversial figures always sell.”

Behind Willow, Damen discreetly watched William Somerset, the CEO of Hamnet and also his editor’s father, come in, the door noiselessly swinging shut behind him. Right away, he recognized the opportunity for the young woman to present her pitch without her nerves and insecurities getting the better of her.
 

Keeping his gaze on Willow, he prompted, “The real reason, Willow. I’m just one of the dozens of controversial figures here in Greece, and you know it. If you want your company to back your proposal and spend millions on this, we both need to go all in.”

Easier said than done,
Willow thought, but unfortunately she also knew it to be true. Slowly, she said, “When I first learned of your proposal, I thought you just wanted to make a quick one mil or something. I thought you wanted to publish something that was like a cross between an Idiot’s Guide for Gold Diggers and a self-help book for the Real Housewives of Athens.”

Although it wasn’t his first time to hear of Willow’s initial thoughts, Damen still winced.
 

Catching sight of Damen’s pained look, she said sheepishly, “Sorry. When I got to talk to you, I knew right away it wasn’t like that.”

“So what is it about then?”

She closed her eyes, letting her imagination fly. Papers shuffled, words drifted up in the air in a colorful tornado, and around it were readers – so many of them, and they all wanted to read the book because…

“It’s a book about love,” Willow said softly, eyes still closed. “The Art of Catching a Greek Billionaire isn’t about making a woman happy because she now has access to billions of dollars. It was never that. It’s about the man – the billionaire who may seem to have everything but doesn’t. This book shows that Greek billionaires
need
to be caught by the right woman because...”

Willow squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. “Because a woman who loves selflessly, eternally – that’s his true wealth. The one thing he can’t ever buy.” A smile touched her lips, and the look on her face made it obvious why she was named such.
 

Willowy beautiful in a way that could easily make people catch their breath, Willow continued, “The Art of Catching a Greek Billionaire doesn’t aim to be profound or informative. It’s just a book of love and hope, a book that’s likely to make you cry and laugh but in the end, it’s going to make you feel good. It’s going to make you look forward to tomorrow because you know…if fate was able to make Mairi Tanner’s dreams come true…if fate was able to make Damen Leventis fall in love when he never believed it existed in the first place…” Her shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “Why couldn’t it happen to the rest of us?”

A second later, Willow’s eyes flew open at the sound of someone slowly clapping his hands. When she spun her seat around, she was stunned to see her father inside the conference room, and behind him was the rest of the acquisitions committee.

William Somerset asked gruffly, “Would a 100,000 initial print run do?”
 

Everyone in the room knew the answer to that.

Willow shrugged, not knowing how to express her emotions so in the end, she decided to do what she usually did, and that was to retreat behind a shell of indifference. “I…umm…think it’s adequate.”
 

The too-proud answer had Damen clearing his throat.

“I mean, thank you for your trust in me. I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed, sir.”

William glanced at the ex-billionaire. “Willow has filled me in about your plan in the event that we do offer to publish your work. We can probably have a hundred ARCs ready in time for your party. It will be the day after tomorrow, correct?” It was William’s way of expressing his gratitude for Damen Leventis’ patience, something that not many people was able to offer his wayward daughter.

“That would be much appreciated. The book is to be my wife’s surprise, so I hope that nothing about it leaks out.” Damen walked forward to shake hands with Willow’s father.

William murmured, “You must love your wife very much to go to such lengths just to let her know of your feelings.”

Damen’s lips twisted in a smile. “If you have the chance to read the book, you’ll know that what I’m doing – or whatever I can think of doing – is not enough. I’ve hurt her too many times that having the chance to show my wife I love her is a privilege in itself.”