Unwillingly Yours (Warning: Love Moderately)

  Nerdy. Boring. Unavailable. 18-year-old Jaike Hepburn is happiest when those words are used – and they always are – to describe her. Anything is better than the truth…until she meets a billionaire heir who makes it impossible to deny her true self.

  Gorgeous. Charming. Friendly. As part of both a business and political dynasty, 21-year-old Derek Christopoulos is used to living his life in the limelight, pretending to be the embodiment of a modern-day prince. Throughout his life, he’s kept his secret side leashed, waiting patiently for that one girl who’d find pleasure in belonging to him, body and soul.

  Even as the feelings he arouses in Jaike pushes her into the arms of his rival, Derek knows it’s only a matter of time before the truth between them is laid bare.

  She is his, and he is hers.

  Warning: Love Moderately

  WARNING: LOVE MODERATELY

  Copyright Feb 26 2013

  Cover Art by Lourdes Marcelo

  Copyright 2013 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Publisher’s Note. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments,events or locales is purely coincidental.

  First electronic publication: February 2013

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Authors

  Excerpt: Chased: Book 1 of How (Not) to be Seduced by Billionaires

  Excerpt: The Werewolf Prince and I

  Excerpt: Drawn: His Secret Toy

  Excerpt: Evren: Enter the Dragonette

  Excerpt: Death Loves Me Not

  “That controlling son of a bitch stood you up again, didn’t he?” Her best friend Marcy growled from Jaike’s balcony, which overlooked the Roosevelt Bridge, its pillars outlined by an incandescent glow at night. Scenic views or even the balcony weren’t typical features for the dorm rooms of Blake Hall, but then her unit wasn’t the typical dorm room either.

  Instead she had a suite, one of the many perks offered to students who did extremely well on scholarships.

  Jaike Hepburn was one of those students, and her kind was the minority in Christopoulos University. All the others were rich and privileged like her friend, the kind who learned how to say “credit” and “card” before “Momma” and “Poppa”. Or at least that was what Marcy said.

  “I just don’t know what you see in that little shit.”

  Jaike smothered a laugh when she saw Marcy glaring at the scenery, knowing it was her boyfriend Marcy wanted to glare at instead.

  Briefly, Jaike considered denying the obvious since the six-foot-tall “little shit” Marcy was talking about had indeed stood her up again. Not that it was a big deal. Angelo Ricardo Valencia III, her boyfriend for fifteen wonderful months, had been re-elected as Student Council President. Of course there’d be a lot of times he had to prioritize his obligations over dates with his girlfriend.

  Marcy was still grumbling.

  “Stop it,” she said laughingly. “I don’t have an issue with it so why should you?”

  “Did he at least text you to say he’s not coming?”

  Jaike took a deep breath, but in the end she couldn’t lie. “He’s just busy, okay?” The excuse that readily leapt to her lips only seemed to reinforce what an old edition of Cosmo had revealed to her.

  Earlier at the library, Jaike had impulsively taken one of the quizzes featured in the magazine. The title had grabbed her attention. Are You Playing the Martyr? By the time she finished the quiz, Angelo still hadn’t shown up. She had also scored ten out of ten, the only time she was aghast at getting a perfect score.

  But it was impossible for her to be a martyr, Jaike thought. Martyrs weren’t happy. Martyrs didn’t smile. And she was both. So she wasn’t a martyr, never mind if Angelo was ditching her for the second time in less than 24 hours.

  Cosmo was so stupid. If – when – she passed the bar exam four years from now, Cosmo would have the honor of being the recipient of her first lawsuit. She’d sue them for fraud on behalf of young women like her whose minds they had messed up when they were perfectly happy.

  And she was happy.

  Or at least she had been until Angelo had suddenly changed. For weeks now, he had been aloof to the point of cruel indifference, and she just didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Where is he supposed to be anyway?”

  Jaike brightened at Marcy’s question, declaring proudly, “He’s at a photo shoot. The Photography Club asked him to model for their Valentines’ poster. They’re auctioning him off – the girl who wins gets to date him for one evening, all expense paid.”

  Marcy’s glossy pink lips formed an O of surprise. “And you agreed?”

  “It’s for a good cause!”

  “Hopeless!” Shaking her head, Marcy walked back into the living room and grabbed her shiny wrist bag from the leather sofa. “I wish I can stick around to give the little shit a piece of my mind---”

  “Marcy!”

  “---but I have to go. I promised Eric I’ll drop by his party.”

  Jaike frowned, wondering who that Eric was. The only Eric she knew---

  Marcy took one look at her face and said dryly, “It is Eric Saunders.”

  “No way! Eric Saunders?” Eric Saunders was throwing a party? And she wasn’t invited? They were both nerds, and he wasn’t inviting her? Did that mean she was so geeky even fellow nerds didn’t want her showing up at their parties?

  Marcy laughed. “I keep telling you, right? You don’t need to have a boring life just because you like to have straight A’s.”

  “I do not have a boring life,” Jaike argued as she followed Marcy out of the door. As she locked her door, she added, “It’s not my fault I enjoy studying.” She rattled the knob twice for good measure.

  Marcy was grinning when she turned around. “What?” Jaike asked defensively.

  “You are such a control freak.”

  “I just locked my door!”

  “You triple-locked the door,” Marcy retorted. “And what’s the most precious thing you have inside it? A framed photo of the little shit?”

  Jaike choked back a laugh. “You have got to stop calling him that, okay? It’s not cool. Angelo is my boyfriend.”

  “He used to be but now he’s just a first-class ass,” Marcy said as she pressed the down button of the elevator. “An asshole who has your number. It makes him your asshole owner and you’re his bitch slave.” She huffed in indignation. “It’s like Christian and Ana in a totally sadistic unemotional---”

  Jaike rolled her eyes. “Enough with the 50 Shades analogy, Marcy.”

  “No, I’m serious. I’ve read the entire Top 100 for Amazon’s erotica bestsellers so I know
what I’m talking about. You’re, like, the classic case for a sub---”

  “I’ll kill myself rather than wear a collar around my neck, call someone ‘sir’ and I swear I’ll kill the guy who thinks he can tell share me with another master. Is that submissive enough for you?”

  Marcy sniffed. “That just shows how much you don’t understand. Being a sub is all about needing someone to take care of you – so that you can totally let go. And you need that, Jaike. You’re always so…rigid.”

  Jaike forced out a laugh, not wanting Marcy to know how her words reopened old wounds inside her. “Please don’t say that in front of Angelo. You’ll make it seem he’s got a robot for a girlfriend.”

  The scowl reappeared on her friend’s face. “That little shit is the worst Dom---”

  “Eww!” Jaike couldn’t help wincing, her mind tainted with the image of Angelo wearing some squeaky shiny leather thong and holding a whip. She raised her hand. “Just…just stop it, Marcy. It’s…” She shuddered. “I’m all for you going into BDSM if it’s your thing but it’s not mine.”

  “Oh, it is,” Marcy answered so confidently it sent unease skittering over Jaike’s spine. “You just haven’t found someone you’re willing to trust yourself to.”

  The elevator doors slid open then, saving Jaike from replying.

  “Hey. You okay?” Worry underscored her friend’s tone. Behind Marcy were the mirrored walls of the elevator, its full-length reflection displaying the slim back that her friend’s beaded gold dress exposed, together with Marcy’s shapely legs, a direct contrast to how Jaike was covered virtually head to toe. An embarrassment really, considering Florida’s weather.

  “Yes.” No. Not really, Jaike thought with a heavy heart as she got out of the elevator. But she couldn’t tell Marcy something so disloyal.

  Outside Blake Hall, Jaike and Marcy stopped by the nearest lamppost as Marcy lit a stick.

  “What are you going to do now that the little---” Marcy sighed, seeing Jaike’s warning look. “---I mean your AWOL boyfriend won’t be coming over?”

  “I still have a couple of papers to research---” Jaike grimaced at her friend’s groan. “What? You know I hate TV, I hate surfing the Internet, and I hate listening to music.”

  Marcy took a long drag from her cigarette. “Why am I friends with you? I just don’t understand why. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to be the bad influence everyone thinks I am but I’m not! You’re un-influenceable!”

  “That’s not even a word.”

  “And you’re still not letting me influence you,” Marcy muttered.

  “Trust me,” Jaike murmured with a twist of her lips, the irony of her friend’s words something only she could enjoy. “You don’t need to influence me. I’ve got my bad side, too.”

  Marcy threw her cigarette butt into the trash bin. “Yeah, yeah, so bad you can’t even make yourself skip classes if you’re not on your deathbed.” Arranging the strap of her bag around her wrist, she asked, “Why not come with me to the party?”

  “No, thank you.” She didn’t even have to think about her answer. She hated it that much.

  “You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise,” Marcy wheedled.

  “Nope.”

  “Please?”

  “Marcy---”

  “We’ll just stay for, like, thirty minutes, max! Please?” Marcy batted her eyelashes at Jaike, and even she wasn’t immune to the pitiful expression that her friend had perfected over the years. Maybe she should practice it herself. Maybe getting goo-goo eyed at Angelo could reform his un-boyfriend-like ways.

  She answered with a sigh, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Angelo doesn’t like it---”

  Marcy’s expression became steely. “Now I’m not taking no for an answer.” She started dragging Jaike with her. “We are going whether you like it or not, and if you turn me down now we are not going to be friends again.”

  “What are you, twelve?”

  “No. I’m a hot 21 year old with a twelve-year-old mind.”

  Jaike shook her head, knowing it was pointless to argue when Marcy had that look on her face. “At least promise me you won’t leave me alone like the last time.”

  “I just wanted you to mingle.”

  “Marcy, if you’re going to leave me again---”

  Marcy caught Jaike’s arm just as she turned around to go back to the dorm. “Okay, fine! I’m not going to leave you alone this time.” She cast an eye on Jaike’s appearance, her mouth turning down.

  Jaike glanced down at her clothes. Pink buttoned-up blouse, loose slacks, and slacks. “This is fine enough. I don’t want to go back just to change.”

  Without warning, Marcy pulled Jaike’s ponytail off, unleashing her long dark brown hair on her shoulders, the rest of it tumbling down her back in thick waves.

  “Marcy!”

  But Marcy was busy fluffing Jaike’s hair, the way her friend liked to do with her own. “There,” she said with satisfaction. “That’s better. You still look like a nerd but at least you look like a nerd who’s trying to fit in.”

  Jaike snorted.

  Marcy looked grossed out. “Stop that, you know I hate---”

  She grinned – then snorted again.

  “Sheesh! Who’s the 12-year-old now? I can’t believe the uni’s given you their top scholarship.” Marcy continued with her complaints all the way to Eric’s pad.

  “Don’t yawn,” Marcy ordered as she pressed the buzzer.

  Jaike snapped her mouth shut just as a redheaded guy she didn’t know opened the door. His face brightened at the sight of Marcy’s smile and he immediately stepped to the side to let them in.

  The walls’ varnished wood paneling made the living room appear more spacious, and the cream and leather overtones lent it an elegant taste. Or at least it was should have looked elegant if there weren’t beer bottles and used paper plates scattered all over the room. The floor was a mess, the carpeted tiles stained by vomit and heaven knew what else. Jaike’s OC tendencies for cleanliness kicked in, her body feeling itchy all over.

  “Yo, Marcy!”

  “Looking good, girl!”

  There were more of that for Marcy as they made their way further in, stepping over bodies of those who had passed out on the floor and squeezing past couples making out.

  Wolf whistles followed them as they reached the table where the beer cans were stacked next to opened boxes of pizza. Marcy didn’t bat an eyelash at the adulation, taking it all as her due. No one seemed to notice her beside Marcy, but Jaike didn’t mind it at all.

  The entire place was crowded, all the way to the poolside lounge, where couples danced to mixes by the DJ from the university’s radio station. Eric’s pad smelled of booze and nicotine, which made Jaike a little dizzy. The music switching from hip hop to heavy metal didn’t help either, the loud thuds becoming a prelude to what was fast becoming a major headache.

  Would Marcy get mad if she left without saying anything? Clearly, tagging along was a huge mistake. She just did not fit in this kind of scene. For one thing, everyone seemed to be wearing layers of glitter and body oil. Standing next to them, Jaike felt like she was a block of wood surrounded by gemstones.

  Here, she thought morosely, was probably another reason Angelo was standing her up more often than usual. She chewed on her lip, wondering if it was time to try shedding off even just a bit of her hang-ups. Perhaps could try being more outgoing. She wanted to be an asset to Angelo, not a brick around his neck.

  Her phone buzzed with a default tone, one that made the small clique of girls at the other end of the table titter.

  “I told you to change your ring tone,” Marcy whispered to her.

  “I don’t have the time,”
Jaike said, still fumbling inside her larger-than-life bag for her phone.

  “You mean you don’t want to make time.” Marcy sighed in consternation. “And would you pleeeeeeeaaaaaase bring a smaller bag next time? You don’t have to carry your whole house with you all the time!”

  “I’m not.” Then she added honestly without looking up, “But I want to if that’s possible.”

  “Two words: control freak.”

  “Aha!” After three minutes, Jaike had finally found her phone – the tiniest Blackberry model, which she had purchased because it was exceptionally light. It was Angelo, telling her not to wait up for his phone call tonight. Her heart ached a little at the curt tone of his message. Something was so goddamn wrong between them, but she just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Returning the phone to her bag, she looked up to find Marcy gone.

  “Seriously?” Jaike muttered to herself as she hastily scanned the room. Dammit! The no-good liar! She was so going to get Marcy for this the moment she found her friend in the crowd, which seemed to have grown ten times more in size since they had come in. It made her head throb even more painfully.

  Yes, this was definitely a headache – and it was on its way to developing into a full-fledged migraine.

  “Koukla mou.”

  The hairs on her nape stood up at the sound of the low deep voice coming from behind her with its faint Greek accent and teasing undertone.

  The flawed part of her responded to the voice instantly, body softening in recognition as if it had found the missing half of her soul. But the sensible part of her veered away from it just as quickly, and Jaike scanned the crowded room again, this time searching for a place to hide.

  “Are you really going to pretend you don’t hear me?”

  Yes, she was, for her sanity. She clenched her teeth, hating the melodramatic turn of her thoughts. It was always, always like this with him. She quickened her pace, but it was just too late.

  “Jaike.” It was louder this time, wicked amusement lacing her name, and drawing more attention to them. She could feel heads turning, ears attuned to gossip twitching.