Athens, Greece

"Willow? You still haven't left?" Coming down the stairs, her father William halted at the sight of her by the front doors.

Shiiiit.

In the act of tiptoeing her way to the kitchen to have dinner in secret, Willow made an about face and tried to look like she had just come back in instead.

She should have used the back exit, Willow thought. But then, William rarely left his rooms after dinner. How was she to know he'd make an exception tonight?

"Actually, I'm going now," Willow didn't hesitate to fib. "I just came back because I forgot something." Picking up her skirts, she went to him to give William a kiss on the cheek.

"Take care." The old man tried to hide his dismay as he came to fully appreciate her appearance, a puce—colored velvet gown that was too loose, too old—fashioned, and frankly, too ugly to wear in public.

"I will." She pretended not to notice the grimace on her father's face.

Outside, she hailed a cab even though she had William's car and driver at her disposal. Old Farley had such a big mouth, she just knew he would tell on her if she happened to leave the party early.

Which she intended to do. If it hadn't been for William watching her from the windows, she wouldn't even have attended the party. Anyway, she was sure Damen wouldn't mind. She had worked long enough with the Greek billionaire for him to understand her anti—social ways would only get her into more trouble if she had come.

Ten minutes, she promised to herself. Ten minutes and she would leave again or maybe cool her heels in the hotel's lobby. She hadn't ever been to this hotel but if she was lucky, maybe there was even a library. She could spend forever in that place, and William would then be happy that she was staying out late like a "normal" girl.

Win—win, she thought happily. But when she got to the hotel, she was disappointed to find out it was not her kind of place. For one thing, it was extremely hip, the kind that had more than one nightclub at its lobby and its own casino.

No library in sight, Willow thought.

The party was already in full swing when she showed her invitation by the door. Once in, she slipped the invitation back into her gown's pocket. It was the sole reason she had purchased the hideous dress. It allowed her to forego the need for bags, which she totally hated. Give her a nice spacious backpack or file case anytime. But those super tiny bags that were almost invisible?

She shuddered in distaste.

"Shall I show you to your table, Ms. Somerset?"

She shook her head. "Who am I seated with?"

The attendant checked his list. "Mr. Stavros Manolis, mademoiselle."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?" It was loud enough to have nearby guests shooting odd looks her way. Meeting their gazes, Willow just shrugged. So she had a rather loud voice. Sue her. Not everyone could sound like Alice in Wonderland.

Willow fought the urge to bite her fingernails or nibble on the tips of her hair. She tried to calm herself, tried not to fidget, but it was no use. Digging her hands back into her skirt's deep pockets, she finally took out a piece of gum and popped it into her mouth.

She started to relax as sweetness flooded her taste buds and she began to chew.

Her gaze returned to the Greek billionaire whose table she shared. Honestly, what were those damn newlyweds thinking? Whoever heard of a farewell party – in the form of a fucking ball — that only had tables for two? And if they had to do that, why did they have to pair her with a man she wouldn't ever get along with?

She chewed harder on her gum.

Despite being alone in his table, there was nothing in the way Stavros Manolis looked or acted that showed any kind of discomfort. Cool as shit, in other words.

How she hated and envied him for it at the same time.

Dressed in one of his famously conservative suits, the black—haired billionaire sat with a straight back, his chiseled features expressionless as he watched the ceremony while other guests watched him.

Last time she heard, he had made it to People's Sexiest People Alive. Again. Also, he was supposedly dating a Twitter—obsessed model. So where was she? Or was that a false rumor as well? A lot of those seemed to surround him, which was surprising considering how ridiculously tame his life was compared to other Greek billionaires' lifestyles.

Behind her, the doors opened once more, allowing another latecomer in. It left her no choice but to move, and after offering a silent prayer to God, Willow made her way to the table she shared with Stavros.

Whatever happens, don't do anything scandalous. She nodded to herself at the thought. The latest fiasco she had been involved in had erased whatever goodwill she had been able to build after scoring a publishing deal with Damen Leventis.

Whatever happens, don't provoke him…and don't be provoked by him.

Bear with it, bear with it. Stavros Manolis repeated the words doggedly in his mind. It was the only way to keep his face bland and his smile in place. He wasn't a fucking fool. He knew more than a few guests were staring at him, waiting for him to react at the sight of Mairi dancing in her husband's arms.

Mairi – the woman he had first fallen in love with…and lost.

In front of him, Damen Leventis – a man—made infamous for being a heartless playboy in his younger years and a Greek billionaire like Stavros was – smiled down at Mairi before twirling her around like a princess.

Mairi – Damen's wife.

It was like a fucking fairy tale, and the ironic thing was, it was a story where Stavros had been first given the role of the prince. But he had relinquished it, and now the right to have the princess by his side belonged to the other man.

"Excuse me, sorry, excuse me." The muttered words came from the young woman who had temporarily blocked his view, and when she claimed the vacant seat next to him, he knew who she was right away.

Willow Somerset.

He had read the name card earlier. He also recognized her face. She had temporarily worked for Leventis himself as his editor, a woman with long dark hair, striking blue—green eyes, and appalling taste in fashion. Gazing at her now, it was evident her sartorial inclinations hadn't changed.

Had he really been attracted to this woman? He must have been depressed as hell at that time to think so.

She suddenly turned to him, and his lips tightened when he realized she had gum in her mouth.

"You've been staring at me." The moment the words flew out of her mouth, Willow knew she shouldn't have said it. But…she also knew it would have been impossible for her not to say them.

According to practically every article written about Stavros Manolis, the ultra—traditional billionaire had manners reminiscent of the golden days of knighthood, a man who could always be counted on to pull out chairs, help the elderly cross the street, and never commit a faux pas.

So why was it that with her, she wondered in annoyance, he was anything but polite? Did staring at her so blatantly count as courteous? Nuh—uh!

"And you're chewing gum," he pointed out. "In a formal setting."

She shook her head. "You're really as stuffy as Damen said."

He gritted his teeth. For some reason, he disliked hearing her say the other man's name.

When he started to turn away from her, she said, "Does it hurt?"

The question, along with the note of genuine curiosity in her voice, made him face her again. "Does what hurt?"

Her gaze strayed towards their hosts, who were now moving from table to table, having their photos taken, most likely at Mairi's insistence. She was just that type of girl.

Beside him, his gum—chewing companion murmured, "Seeing the woman you love with another man."

Stavros stiffened the same time gasps came from people at the other tables, who were seated near enough to hear Willow's words.