Page 196

(Editor’s note: To be continued tomorrow. Couple had sex. Again.)
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“HIT ME WITH IT.” THEwords 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—-”
“Yourformercompany, 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 myformercompany. 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?”