The Art of Loving a Greek Billionaire (10 page)

“How much are you selling it for?” he had asked.

“I’m throwing it away. I don’t want my wife to know that I spent a hundred dollars on it for nothing!”

The memory had Phil smiling fondly. All in all, a good day’s work.
 

He looked at Mairi expectantly. “You like it?”

“Umm, yes.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him she hated it. Maybe, maybe she could get rid of it somehow.

“Good. I knew you would. Maybe you can give me a tip,” he added.

Mairi had a silly urge to laugh. Old Phil would probably be shocked if he found out that the $256 in her pocket was all the money she had in the world. She would never touch her savings account – if she withdrew from it, her aunts would find out and start asking questions. It was better that they kept on thinking she was having a fabulous time working as an English interpreter.

“I’ll give you a tip,” she promised.

By the time she had loaded the crates in Damen’s car – a top-of-the-line Benz that she had deliberately chosen because it was the least expensive model and least likely to draw attention – she was down to $63 dollars.

Just enough to buy a bouquet of roses and a greeting card, Mairi thought in satisfaction as she leaned back against the seat.

Giddy at the thought of what Damen would think of having his own fish spa at home – something she proudly considered a unique gift that no other former girlfriend of his would have thought of giving him – Mairi took her phone out and called Damen at his office.

“Leventis.” His voice was clipped.

Her smile faltered on her lips. “Hey. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Damen slowly leaned back in his seat. “No. Of course not.”

It was impossible to read his mood when he spoke like that. She said hesitantly, “You’re sure?”

Her uncertainty got to him and he said in a gentler tone, “I will always be free to talk to you.”
 

“I’ll hold you to that.” She let out a nervous giggle. God, she was giggling too much these days, it was getting humiliating.

“What do you want to talk about then?”

“Umm…I’m wondering if you could come home early tomorrow – like seven-ish in the evening?” Knowing he was likely to ask why, she hurriedly told him, “I just want to have dinner with you...if you have time.”

“Then I will come home at exactly seven.” He paused. And then Damen heard himself lying, “I might not be able to come home tonight though.”

Her heart stopped beating at his words. This was his first time not to come home to her. Could it have something to do with his meeting with Alina Kokinos? She wished she had the courage to ask it, but she was scared of looking like a jealous, nagging insecure girlfriend.

Swallowing convulsively, she said, “I’ll miss you.”

“I will miss you, too.”

Unbidden, their early morning conversation returned to her. It had sounded exactly like this, like she was saying the words with desperation and he was returning the words mechanically.

They spoke for a few more moments, but the earlier intimacy, brief as it was, had been dispelled and they were both stiff with each other by the time Damen excused himself to talk with another investor.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. She really did love him, really did miss her Greek billionaire, but she didn’t think she could take more of this. Before she knew it, she was sending a chat message to her aunts.

Vilma: Good of you to remember you still have aunts.

Mairi: It won’t work, Aunt Vilma. I know you’re just being cranky because you miss me.

Norah: When can we fly there?

Mairi: Not until I’m convinced that you two would behave yourselves around Damen.

Vilma: How dare you? I admit that both Norah and I find Greek billionaires irresistible, but we draw the line at seducing one who belongs to our niece.

Mairi giggled again, imagining how her two aunts would no doubt have Damen uncomfortable in seconds. They had told her that she better have Damen prepared when they finally flew in for a visit.
Nothing
would stop them from asking the burning questions in their minds, accumulated over the decades they had spent devouring Mills and Boon paperbacks.

Norah: Have you asked him yet?

She shook her head at the question. Norah had wanted her to ask Damen the percentage of Greek billionaires with and without chest hair. Like heck she’d ask something like that!

Mairi: NEVER. And you mustn’t ask him that either!

Vilma: What about mine? Did you ask him?

Aunt Vilma’s question was just as bad. She wanted to know the average age with which Greek billionaires lost their virginity. Seriously!

Mairi: I love you, Aunt Vilma, Aunt Norah.

Norah: We love you even more.

Vilma: We love you ALWAYS.

****

Half an ocean away, Norah and Vilma exchanged looks with each other. They had been enjoying an early breakfast in the kitchen. It was five in the morning and the sun was barely out in the sky.
All in all, it was definitely too early for her heart to be broken like this
, Norah thought.

“She’s hurting.”

“I know.”

“We must do something,” Vilma insisted.

“Not yet. She’s not a little girl anymore. We need to let her learn from her own mistakes.”

Vilma knew her sister’s words made sense, but it went against everything she believed in to simply stand aside and allow Mairi to be hurt. And she would be hurt, in a way that terrified Vilma.

“Were we so wrong?” Vilma whispered. “It had seemed so harmless at the beginning, letting her dream about stupid Greek billionaires.”

Norah reminded her gently, “You didn’t think they were so stupid before.”
 

“Yeah, so color me stupid, too.”

Glancing down at her phone, Norah’s heart became heavier. She said quietly, “It can’t ever be wrong to let someone dream.” It was just a sad reality of the world that most people found joy in destroying another person’s dream.

Stay strong, Mairi,
Norah whispered in her heart. Please God, let her be strong enough to love and dream even when she was alone.
 

Chapter Twelve

“You’re pronouncing it wrong.” He was on his way back to the field, stray baseball in his hand, when he spotted her sitting under the tree, knees up with an open book balanced on them.
 

The girl was startled into looking up from her Greek language manual. As always, her loveliness struck him. She was not beautiful, but then beauty was skin deep and vastly overrated. He had been surrounded by beauty his whole life, and those people had a tendency to be excessively shallow individuals.

But this girl…

He had always liked how pretty she was, the kind of pretty that came from within. She was quiet but vibrant, a combination that told him she would be a very interesting person to know – if she allowed him to get to know her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, not looking at him as she shyly tucked her hair behind her ears.

Knowing he would not come by this kind of chance again, he discreetly threw the baseball away from behind. If his teammates came to get him, he’d tell them that he hadn’t found it yet. He took a seat next to her on the grass, which caused her eyes to dart towards him in surprise.

He didn’t blame her. They had never talked even though they were in the same grade. He had always noticed her every time they’d pass each other in the hallway. She tended to have a busy or distracted look on her face, though, which had caused him to hesitate making small talk with her.

With other girls he was confident and assured of their interest in him. But with her... Well, let it be said that he considered it a gift of fate their hitter had ended up batting the ball in this direction.

Pretending he didn’t notice how skittish she seemed in his presence, he leaned close towards her, enough for the sides of their heads to almost touch. Pointing to the word she had mispronounced, he told her gently, “Here’s how you say it.”

Her head cocked to the side as she listened to him, an attentive look on her face.

Liking the feeling of having her look at him, he continued reading the other lines in perfect Greek.

She had a shy smile on her lips when he finished. “Th-thank you.”
 

The blush was natural, and so was the stammer. He had always been enchanted by her simplicity, and now he was even more so.

“Why are you studying Greek?”

“Because I…like reading about the myths.”

He raised a brow. That was an uncommon answer. “There are English translations.”

“There’s something different about them when you read it in their original language,” she told him seriously.
 

He did his best not to smile. Like any Greek, he was raised to respect the myths even if they were just myths. It was refreshing to find someone outside Greece who seemed to feel the same. “What are your favorites?”

Interestingly, she blushed.

He was even more intrigued. He told her with a grin, “Now I’m even more determined to know what your favorite myths are.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m going to guess you probably like those with love stories?”

She gave him a small nod.

“Umm…Cupid and Psyche?”

She nodded, quickly, as if she was hoping he wouldn’t catch her doing so.

He grinned. “You girls always do.”

She made a face, as if his words had so irritated her that she forgot about being shy with him. “There’s nothing wrong about happy-ever-after love stories.”

He was even more amused, and he decided to tease her, drawling, “I don’t know about that. They can be cheesy, don’t you think? Also, it follows a formula. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy—”

“It’s the little things that happen between boy meets girl and girl likes boy that make these stories special.” Her eyes were glowing now. “And each story has a unique couple, and that makes it special, too.” A dreamy look settled on her face. “You gotta be more imaginative. Like Cupid and Psyche – did they go on dates? Surely they had? But how’s that gonna happen if he’s invisible? Do they walk hand in hand? And what if a guy happened to see Psyche and try to hit on her? Cupid would be jealous, but since he’s invisible he can’t blame the other guy—”

She stopped, as if only realizing how much she had said.

He told her honestly, “Don’t worry, I didn’t find any of it boring. Your imagination’s unbelievable though.”

“Only with love stories,” she confessed.

“Ah. Maybe you want to be an author someday and write romance novels?”

“No.” A mysterious smile played on her lips. “I don’t want to write the stories.”

The smile was as secretive as Mona Lisa’s, and it was only months later that he would come to know the truth behind it. By then of course it was too late. Everyone knew the truth, too, but it had been terribly twisted, the beauty of it marred by malice.

Mairi Tanner hadn’t wanted to write the stories she loved reading so much. She had wanted to live them instead. In her mind, Greek gods were Greek billionaires in life, and she – an ordinary girl – played the role of a mortal woman. Unfortunately, the others called her by a different name. In their minds, the role she played was that of a gold digger.

****

Stavros was pulled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone.
 

The detective he had set on Mairi’s trail said, “She’s come home, sir.”

“And Leventis?”

“Still in his office.”

“Keep me informed of his movement.”

It was time.

He was done waiting.

****

Mairi had just finished setting up the aquarium on the carpeted floor next to Damen’s luxurious recliner seat when her phone rang, almost causing her to jump.