Romancing the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #5)(60)
Author: Jessica Clare

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.

“Hey, long time, no see,” someone said behind her, and Violet turned away from the sign and saw her friend Kirsten. “Glad to have you back,” Kirsten said with a grin, an identical cup of drive-thru coffee in her hand. “How was the vacation?”

“It was interesting,” Violet said, keeping her voice light. She sipped her coffee so she wouldn’t have to say more than that. Kirsten fell into step next to her, and the two teachers headed into the school.

“Well, you didn’t miss too much here,” Kirsten said, tucking her brown hair into a clip with her other hand in a way that bespoke years of practice. “More meetings, more detentions, though we did get some additional funding for the band program thanks to your mysterious benefactor.” She sounded thrilled; Kirsten was the band teacher, and for her, everything circled back to woodwinds and brasses. “You got a nice tan, at least. Where did you guys go?”

“Greece,” Violet murmured, and at Kirsten’s groan of excitement, she added, “purely for research, though.”

“Man. Greece! You tell that billionaire if he needs a band teacher, I’m first in line.”

A stab of jealousy shot through Violet. Kirsten would be Jonathan’s type, wouldn’t she? She was bubbly and pretty and easygoing, like Violet used to be. Like Violet no longer was. If she was a good friend, she’d fix them up and kill two birds with one stone. Make Kirsten happy, and get Jonathan out of her hair for good.

But she didn’t say anything. The thought bothered the hell out of her.

It’s just because you’re still too attached, Violet told herself. Give yourself a few months to get over him and you’ll be fine.

She’d been repeating that as a mantra for the last week or so. It didn’t stop her from crying in weak moments, or waking up at night and wishing he was there next to her. It didn’t stop her from being in a foul mood, and she’d avoided returning to school until she could put it off no longer.

She just needed time, Violet told herself. Time healed all wounds. Theoretically. This one hadn’t even had time to scab over yet.