Romancing the Billionaire

As she hit the button for the elevator, she distantly heard the sound of a lamp smashing into a wall.

—

Violet was gone again. His Violet had abandoned him once more. She said it was to spare them both, but he knew the truth. Violet was scared, and so she was running again.

Don’t come after me, okay? Set me free.

God. He clenched his fists, his shoulders heaving as he looked for something else to throw. The TV was close by, and he grabbed the flatscreen and slammed it into the wall, viciously enjoying the shower of broken pieces that rained down onto the carpets.

Fuck everything.

His heart had just been pulled out of his chest and stomped on by a petite, gorgeous woman who he loved with all of his soul. Someone who he didn’t make happy. That gnawed at him worse than anything. He couldn’t make her happy. Even if she stayed with him, she’d still be miserable.

He couldn’t win her love back. There was no love for her to give him.

Violet didn’t even want to try. He thought she was letting down her walls, letting him back into her heart. Instead, she’d closed right back up again and shut him out as if she felt nothing for him. As if he was nothing.

And he was helpless to do anything about it. She didn’t want him to come after her.

She didn’t want him at all.

With an angry snarl of rage, he ran his hands over the dresser, smashing everything on it to the ground.

—

Without Violet’s beautiful, smiling face at his side, Dr. DeWitt’s postmortem scavenger hunt held no meaning for Jonathan. He left sunny Santorini and headed for his newest pet project, the dig in Cadiz, but even the glowingly enthusiastic reports from the archaeology team couldn’t rouse him out of the dark cloud of apathy hanging over his head.

After two days in Spain, he headed back to New York to bury himself in work. While Lyons Motors had a fleet of extremely capable chairmen and his private company ran itself without much intervention from the owner, from time to time, he’d stick his hands in and toy with a new project. This time, he suggested that research and development come up with a new model of car to break into a different market. It was a distraction ploy, but not a great one. He called meetings and met with engineers and designers and listened to enthusiastic suggestions, hoping to feel that same spark inside himself.

It was useless. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get Violet’s dead eyes and her too-calm expression out of his mind. The way she’d so efficiently cut him out of her life again.

Last time, she’d begged him to come home with her. This time, it was obvious she was booting him before she had the chance to get hurt again. In the ten years since they’d been parted, Violet had learned to push everyone away. She’d been perfectly happy with him that morning, but as soon as her father’s letters had been found, she’d shut him down and forced him out of her life.

And the sad thing was, he understood why she’d pushed him away. He knew she had been hurt terribly, both by her father and by him. He knew she was terrified of being hurt again. But how could he prove that he wouldn’t hurt her when she didn’t even want to try and let him into her life?

He couldn’t sleep at night because he ached to have her beside him. He couldn’t concentrate during the days because he kept wondering what Violet was doing. Was she as miserable as he was? Or was she already back into her old routine, her heart carefully armored? Or was she crying and miserable because she wanted to love him and she was terrified to? What if the condoms and her birth control had both failed and she was somehow pregnant again? And he’d abandoned her once more?

He picked up the phone and put it down a dozen times every day. If he called her, he’d be harassing her because she’d said specifically that she didn’t want him to contact her. She had his information; she knew where to get him. He told himself that, and that if there was a problem, or if she wanted him, she’d call.

But Violet never called, and Jonathan was forced to admit to himself that maybe his love was one-sided after all. Maybe he loved Violet more than she’d ever loved him.

Maybe one person’s love just wasn’t enough for a relationship.

—

“You look like shit, man,” Reese called as Jonathan sat in his familiar spot at the poker table.

“Business meeting ran late,” he said tonelessly, picking up his empty glass and raising it with the other five men as they called their meeting of the Brotherhood to order. “Fratres in prosperitatum,” he announced with the others. They’d been waiting on him to start their weekly meeting.

“This meeting of the Brotherhood is called into session,” Logan said. “Now, ante up, boys.” He began to deal cards around the table as the men settled in for a long night of cards, cigars, and business talk.

Jonathan put down his empty glass and pushed it to the side of the table. Normally he’d enjoy a bit of Scotch with his cards, but he’d lost all taste for alcohol ever since he’d seen that awful look in Violet’s eyes when he’d drunk himself into a stupor. Not that it mattered if he drank anymore, if Violet was cutting him out of her life. He considered the glass, and then shook his head. To Jonathan, it still mattered.

“Seriously, you look like shit,” Reese told him, chewing on the end of an expensive cigar as he picked up his cards. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Jonathan said, his tone clipped. Hopefully that would end the conversation.

“You should be in a good mood,” Hunter said, his voice gravelly and rough. The scarred billionaire sat directly across from Jonathan, and for once, his fiancée wasn’t perched in his lap. “No girls tonight.”

Jonathan snorted to hide the twinge of envy he felt. It seemed like all his friends had paired off in the last year. Their weekly meetings were frequently interrupted by Reese’s new wife, Hunter’s fiancée, and Logan’s bride-to-be. Even Griffin, the starchiest ass**le of their bunch, had recently gotten engaged and tended to let his frizzy-headed girlfriend lead him around by the balls. Quite happily, if the content look on Griffin’s face was any indicator. The last bachelor of their group was Cade.

He frowned. And himself. He was still a bachelor, even though in his heart, he’d always been claimed by Violet.

Hand after hand of poker blurred together with familiar discussions. Jonathan was mostly silent, though he mentioned the new line of roadsters he was developing when it came time for him to share his latest business dealings with the group. Mostly, though, he was just distracted.

He couldn’t get his mind off of Violet. Was she regretting her hasty retreat? Or did she just not even care? If he knew Violet—and he thought he did—she was pushing any sort of emotion so far down inside that she wouldn’t feel anything. She’d just go about her day, armored and icy, until something set her off. And then she’d explode in a fury of tears and misery.

And that made his heart clench even more. He wasn’t even pissed at Violet for pushing him away; he just dreaded when her control finally slipped and she broke down, because he wanted to be the one to comfort her. She needed a shoulder to cry on, even if it was his.

Sometime close to midnight, Jonathan threw his last chips into the pile. “All in.” He knew it was a bad hand—he’d been betting recklessly all night and had lost a small fortune on the table. Not that he cared. He just wanted to be done. He wanted to go home and lick his wounds and mull over the loss of Violet for a bit longer.

Frankly, he was shit company tonight.

He was glad when Cade won the hand. “I’m out,” Jonathan said with a fake grimace. “Just as well. Time for me to call it a night anyhow.” He stood from the table, said his good-byes to his friends, and headed up the stairs and out of the club, heading to his reserved parking spot.

“Wait up,” a voice called behind him as he pulled his keys out.

Jonathan turned, frowning at Cade Archer, who’d followed him out. The blond man had his hands shoved in his light-colored jacket and was squinting down the street, looking for his driver who was likely hovering nearby with Cade’s ride. Archer headed over to Jonathan and paused nearby.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked, his voice terse.

“Just wondering how things went with Violet,” Cade inquired. “You two have a lot of history.”

“Fuck off.”

“That well, huh?” Cade’s grin remained. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you care for her very much.”

Jonathan clenched his teeth, his hand tight around his keys. Part of him wanted to punch Cade in the mouth—Cade, who was the definition of kindness—and part of him wanted to spill his guts.

“Can I ask what happened?” Cade said after Jonathan hesitated.

“She closed me out again.”

“Again?”

He gritted his teeth. “I thought you knew this story already?”

“Humor me.”

“Ten years ago, Violet asked me to run away with her. I declined and she left without me. It seems she begged me to come after her and I never got the message. She was pregnant and miscarried my baby.” It felt like a raw wound just admitting it aloud. God, he was a shitty man. He didn’t deserve a woman like Violet. He had to force the next words out of his throat. “This time, we f**ked and she got scared and left me again. Told me not to follow her.”

“Mmm,” was all Cade said.

That wasn’t what Jonathan wanted to hear. “What the hell does that mean?”

“So she asked you to follow her before and you didn’t?”

“I didn’t know she was pregnant. Her father told me she’d gone home and married someone else. I thought . . . I thought she was gone.”

“So you didn’t fight for her. Did you even call her to see if she was okay? To close the door? So you could both move on?”

He ground his teeth again, his jaw clenched. “No. I was pissed.” And hurt. And nineteen, fresh off of losing his first and only love.

“Mmm.”

“Goddamn it, what?”

“She got scared and left you this time, and you’re here?”

He scowled at Cade. “She told me not to follow her.”

Cade looked nonplussed at Jonathan’s increasingly violent mood. He scuffed one of his expensive leather shoes on the sidewalk and glanced back at the club, which was still throbbing with bass despite the late hour. “When I talked with Violet, I got the impression that she didn’t have a very happy childhood. She seems to resent her father quite a bit. That so?”

Jonathan nodded brusquely, not sure where this was going.

“So did it ever occur to you that Violet expects everyone she cares for to disappoint her? Maybe it’s easier for her to retreat than to extend herself and try to make things work.”

Jonathan just stared at him.

“And so I wonder . . . I mean, of course she’s going to push you away. You’ve hurt her in the past and she’s afraid of being hurt again. I guess I’m wondering why you’re not fighting for her.”

His mouth went dry.

Of course.

He was so f**king stupid. So lost in his own misery that it didn’t even occur to him to go after her. It all seemed so incredibly obvious now. Violet was pushing him away because she was scared of being hurt. He didn’t go after her last time and he’d lost her for ten years. This time, there was nothing holding them back but fear.

And Jonathan needed to show Violet he wasn’t afraid.

He grabbed Cade by the collar. “You are a genius, you know that?”

Cade grinned. “Glad I could be of help.”

FIFTEEN

Violet sipped her cup of coffee and stared at the new sign in front of Neptune Middle School as the workers adjusted it. There was some sort of sick irony in knowing that she’d have to walk in to work every day at Jonathan Lyons Middle School. Fate was a cruel, cruel bitch that way.