Stavros hadn’t meant to get involved. Oliver was right. This was none of his business.
He didn’t care about his cousin. Cousin or not, the man was a useless bastard. Stavros regretted the day he’d hired him. Oliver had done a poor job as VP of Marketing. He’d been within a day of being fired when he’d taken the “surprise offer” from Hong Kong. Stavros was glad to see him go. He suspected Oliver might be surprised when his new employers actually expected him to work for his salary.
Stavros didn’t much care for his cousin’s new bride, either. In spite of his own turmoil last night, he’d actually tried to warn Nicole about Oliver’s cheating ways at the rehearsal dinner. But the blonde had just cut him off. So she knew what she was getting into; she just didn’t care.
He didn’t give a damn about either of them.
But Holly Marlowe—she was different.
Stavros suspected it was only through the hardworking secretary’s efforts that Oliver had managed to stay afloat these last three years. Holly worked long hours at the office then probably nights and weekends at home, doing Oliver’s job for him. Everyone at the New York office loved kind, dependable Miss Marlowe, from the janitors to the COO. Tender-hearted, noble, self-sacrificing… Holly Marlowe was the most respected person in the New York office, Stavros included.
But she was totally oppressed by these two selfish people, who, instead of thanking her for all she’d done, seemed intent on taking her indentured servitude with them to Hong Kong.
Two days ago, Stavros might have shrugged it off. People had the right to make their own choices, even stupid ones.
But not after the news he’d received yesterday. Now, for the first time he was thinking about what his own legacy would be after he was gone. And it wasn’t a pretty picture.
“You can’t have Holly! I need her!” Oliver exploded. At Stavros’s fierce glare, his cousin glanced uneasily at his wife. “We need her.”
“You don’t want some stupid promotion, do you, Holly?” Nicole wailed.
But Holly’s face was shining as she looked at Stavros. “Do—do you mean it?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.” As they drove north, past bundled-up tourists and sparkling lights and brightly decorated department-store windows, his gaze unwillingly traced over her pretty face and incredible figure. Until he’d stood across from her in the old stone church by candlelight, he’d never realized how truly beautiful Holly Marlowe was.
The truth was, he hadn’t wanted to notice. Beautiful women were a dime a dozen in his world, while truly competent, highly driven secretaries were few. And Holly had hidden her beauty, making herself nearly invisible at the office, yanking her fiery red hair in a matronly bun, never wearing makeup, working quietly behind the scenes in loose-cut beige skirt suits and sensible shoes.
Was this what she’d looked like all the time? Right under his nose?
Her bright, wide-set green eyes looked up at him, luminous beneath dramatic black lashes. Her skin was pale except for a smattering of freckles over her nose. Her lips were red and delectable as she nibbled them with white, even teeth. Her thick, curly red-gold hair spilled over her shoulders. And that tight red dress—
That dress—
Stavros obviously wasn’t dead yet, because it set his pulse racing.
The bodice was low-cut, clinging to full, delicious breasts he’d never imagined existed beneath those baggy beige suits. As she moved, the knit fabric clung to her curves. He’d gotten a look at her deliciously full backside as they’d left the church, too.
All things he would have to ignore once she worked for him. Deliberately, he looked away. He didn’t seduce women who worked for him. Why would he, when beautiful women were so plentiful in his world, and truly spectacular employees more precious than diamonds?
Sex was an amusement, nothing more. But for years, his company had been his life.
And the reason Holly chose to dress so plainly in the office was obviously that she wanted to be valued for her accomplishments and hard work, not her appearance. In that, they were the same. From the time he was a child, Stavros had wanted to do important things. He’d wanted to change the world.
But that wasn’t all they had in common. He’d seen her tortured expression as she’d looked at Oliver. So Stavros and Holly each had secrets they didn’t want to talk about.
To anyone.
Ever.
But her inexplicable infatuation for Oliver couldn’t possibly last. When she recovered from it, like someone healing from a bad cold, she’d realize she’d dodged a bullet.
As for Stavros’s secret, people would figure it out for themselves when he dropped dead. Which, according to his doctor’s prognosis, would happen in about six to nine months. He blinked.
All the life he’d left unlived…
Just a few days ago, Stavros had vaguely assumed he’d have another fifty years. Instead, he’d be unlikely to see his thirty-seventh birthday next September.
He would die alone, with no one but his lawyers and stockholders to mourn him. His company would be his only legacy. Estranged from his father, and feeling as he did about Oliver, Stavros would likely leave his shares to charity.
Poor Stavros, his ex-mistresses would say. Then they’d roll over and enjoy their hot new lovers in bed.
Poor Minos, his business associates would say. Then they’d focus on exciting new technology to buy and sell.
And he’d be dirt in the ground. Never once knowing what it felt like to commit to anything but work. Not even leaving a son or daughter to carry on his name.
Looking back, Stavros saw it all with painful clarity, now that his life was coming to an end. And he had only himself to blame. Nicole’s thoughtlessly cruel words floated back to him. Do you really want to die alone?
Christmas lights sparkled on Sixth Avenue, as yellow taxis filled with people on the way to family dinners rushed past in the rapidly falling twilight. The limo turned east, finally pulling into the entrance of the grand hotel overlooking Central Park.
“This isn’t over, Holly,” Oliver said firmly. “I’m going to persuade you.”
“You’ll come with us,” Nicole said, smiling as she smoothed back her veil.
The uniformed driver opened the back door of the limousine. Oliver got out first, then gallantly reached back to assist his glamorous bride. Nicole’s white tulle skirts swirled in a train with her fluttery white veil, her diamond tiara sparkling. Tourists gaped at them on the sidewalk. A few lifted their phones for pictures, clearly believing they were seeing royalty. The new Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Minos waved at them regally as they swept into the grand hotel to take photos before the guests arrived for a ballroom reception.
Silence fell in the back of the limo. For a moment, Holly didn’t move. Stavros looked at her.
“Don’t give in to them, Holly,” he urged in a low voice. It was the first time he’d used her first name. “Stick up for yourself. You’re worth so much more than they are.”
Her green eyes widened, then suddenly glistened with tears. She whispered, “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” he said harshly. He got out of the limo and held out his hand for her.
Blinking fast, she slowly placed her hand in his.
And it happened.
Stavros had slept with many women, beautiful and famous and powerful, models and starlets and even a Nobel laureate.
But when he touched Holly’s hand to help her from the