Prove Me Wrong (6 page)

              “Fine then,” I said, my voice curt. “Why?”

              Martin gave me a cold smile. “Why do you think? You’re the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation. You think you can run off whenever you want to play house with some backwoods sales girl?”

              I pulled in a slow breath. I knew what I was doing had been irresponsible. But for over twenty years, I’d dealt with a stepfather who couldn’t stand me to an uncle who was constantly conniving to take everything out from under me.

              This was a long break, granted it. But it was one out of twenty years. He had to have known that at some point, I would tire of this bullshit.

              “Worried about the board meeting,” I said, not really a question. I leaned against a wall, my arms crossed so that I wouldn’t punch a wall. I didn’t like hearing Clara being mentioned by Martin. At all.

              “Of course I am!” Martin exploded.

              “I would’ve been back before then,” I said calmly. “There’s no way Mrs. Drune wouldn’t skin my ass if I wasn’t.”

              Martin huffed a laugh and shook his head. “And then what? After the deal, you’d come back here to play more house?” He gave a disgusted look at my weathered flannel shirt and jeans.

              “What are you supposed to be?” he sneered. “Some lumberjack?”

              “Why the fuck does it matter to you?” I asked in a quiet cutting tone.

              Martin gave me a twisted smile. “Because I know a mistake when I see one.”

              I raised a sardonic brow. This man, divorced twice with a daughter who he hadn’t seen in over ten years, was about to tell me about
my
mistakes?

              “That’s right, son. A mistake,” he said, as if he could tell what I was thinking. Martin ran a hand down his chin, his graying stubble scratching against his fingers.

              “You think you can live this kind of life?” he asked, gesturing around the dim back room that I had grown so accustomed to. “You think you can live in this kind of town?”

              I kept my arms crossed, not answering.

              Martin shook his head, a cold smile playing at his lips. “No, you’re fooling yourself and you know it. You and I, even without any blood relation, have one thing in common.” He gave me a flat, cold stare. “We’re ruthless. We’re heartless. We can give a fuck all about what’s happening unless it contributes to our bottom line.” Martin snickered. “You know I don’t like to admit this but you think DXC Global would be doing as well as it is if you
weren’t
like that? This is a high stakes game we play, son, and half measures don’t work. Men who can’t make the hard decisions, the devilish ones, the ones that play between the shades of gray for ethical behavior, those men invariably fail. The
only
reason why you’re still President of DXC Global is because you aren’t one of those men.”

              I pressed my lips tightly together. “A compliment, I’m sure,” I said dryly. But I knew it was. At least when it came from Martin Lowell.

              Martin looked surprised, as if it could be taken any other way. “To be sure. I just complimented you on your success in running a multi-billion dollar corporation.” He paused, looking me over carefully. “And that’s the exact reason why this kind of life is a charade and you know it.”

              I did, goddamn him. I did. Everything he was saying was verbatim the things I had been thinking ever since I realized I felt more than just lust for Clara.

              “Men like us don’t ‘settle down.’” Martin almost sneered at the phrase. “We don’t love. Those kinds of ideas take up time and energy that can be better spent elsewhere. And, kid, I knew it from the moment I saw you as a scrawny little twelve year old.” He looked me straight in the eye. “You don’t have that kind of heart.”

             
I know.

              “It’s not a flaw,” Martin continued. “In our world, it should be considered a blessing. But it’s time you finally stop fooling yourself and accept who you are. You’re not meant to be some two bit lumberjack in fuck all Vermont. You’re not some settle down husband who’ll be happy with Little League games and Sunday dinners. Stop fucking around, kid, and get your head
straight.
”

              Every word, as disgusting as it was to hear, was the truth. I knew it. Martin knew it. There was no future for me and Clara. And every day I stayed here, I was just making the inevitable heartbreak for her more unbearable.

              Although all of it was the truth, I still couldn’t help but rage. With a force that shook the entire building, I slammed my fist hard behind me against the wall.

              Some of the chairs in front of me actually skipped a few inches from the force of my punch.

              “I’ll be in New York by the end of the week,” I said slowly.

              Martin nodded, satisfied. “Good. Clean yourself up too,” he said, eyeing my recent beard growth with a critical eye. “Unless you want the board thinking you’re some kind of vagabond.”

              With that, Martin pushed past the swinging doors and walked out of the back room, leaving in his wake the destroyed pieces of my secret hopes for a life of innocent happiness. Of a life with Clara.

Chapter
Six
Clara

             
I stood behind the counter at Mackleson’s, looking down at the small black cellphone. A smile curled my lips as I wondered just how late Jonah would be without his cellphone to wake him.

              Jonah relied on his cellphone for everything and I was surprised to see he had left it at the store.

              I had left the house early this morning to deliver a piece I had been working on to a customer across town. Deliveries like these were a normal part of my job but now with Jonah in my bed, warming me up with his arms, I was reluctant to leave the bed, let alone his embrace.

              It was hard not to feel so good in Jonah’s arms. He was the first man I had ever been with who never seemed to tire from holding me. Usually, most men start off by tucking my head against their shoulder, holding me tight after lovemaking. But as body heat and hot breaths increase the warmth between us, they would roll over, pushing me aside for the sake of comfort.

              But Jonah seemed to revel in touching me. He held me close to him, kissing my forehead frequently. If I fell asleep with my head on his arm, I woke up in that same position.

              Or actually, I corrected with a small smile, sometimes I woke up with him nestled even closer against me, with his arms completely wrapped around me, tucking my arms into my chest. I was tucked against his back and held tight, feeling like a precious object that had to be treasured.

              I bit my bottom lip and sighed a little, thinking of that darkly gorgeous man. I had noticed a bit of a change in Jonah recently. There was something dark that was clearly hanging over him, affecting him.

              He still was as insatiable as before. Often in one night, he would take me two or three times before taking me another two or three times in the morning. He still would hold me at night, talking to me in a low, warm voice. He would ask me about my past or my plans for my future. He made sure to always let me know how impressed he was with my work, which made my toes curl with pleasure.

              But now, during all those moments, I saw a lingering shadow in the back of his eyes that I had not seen before.

              I wasn’t completely stupid. Obviously, the way Jonah had rolled into town had been quite unusual. Maybe even suspect.

              There had definitely been a moment when I had wondered if he had been some kind of serial killer on the run.

              But despite the hesitations, I had found myself drawn to the tall stranger like a magnet. And once I was close enough to him, I realized that whatever his past was, his present was good enough for me.

              And that was all that mattered.

              There was a roughness to him at times, a coolness that sometimes took me by surprise, but I could see that at the center of his being was a man simply trying to do good.

              I looked up at the front door. The bell above it calm and still.

              Should I call the house to wake the bum up? I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he had taken an extra hour to himself in bed. The man slept as if he hadn’t slept properly in years.

              There was a loud sudden clatter from the back room that made me jump in surprise.

              “Ah Jesus!” I heard Alex mutter to himself. “What is this!”

              I rolled my eyes. I had heard the chinking sound the clatter had made. “The nails!” I called out towards the back. “Alex, they’re the nails that Hammerson ordered for his back porch project!”

              There was a pause before I heard a confused and slightly annoyed voice reply, “What?”

              I huffed an irritated laugh before heading towards the back to clean up whatever mess was there and to reassure Alex that the large crate of nails was not some hallucination.

              As I finished putting the last of the nails back into the crate and settling Alex in his office with a cup of coffee, I heard the front door bell ring.

             
Finally!
I thought grinning. Mr. Lazybones had decided to grace us after all.

              I tried not to run towards the front counter but found myself still moving in a fast powerwalk, eager to see him.

              But as I walked down the side aisle of power tools, I slowed down, realizing it wasn’t Jonah at all.

              The customer had his back towards me but I could tell from his physique that he was a tall, broad man. But definitely not a local. Or even anyone from a neighboring town.

              He wore a sleekly tailored black suit that hugged his body in a masculine way, outlining the breadth of his back. The long legs were clad in the same expensive material, all ending with a pair of polished black shoes that nearly glowed in the store’s soft light.

              I irrationally thought of the board game Monopoly. The man looked so richly tailored that all I could see was dollar signs. He was clearly a wealthy man. What was he doing here?

              I was about to call out, asking if I could help him when I heard a woman’s voice murmur from his side. I skipped a step before cautiously continuing towards the front. Who were this unknown man and woman?

              “…you could’ve just bought a new one,” I heard the woman sniff in a clear and elegant voice that spoke of born entitlement. “I don’t know why you insist on tracking
this
one down.”

              I finally rounded the corner and said in my normal cheery customer greeting, “Hello! Can I help you with—”

              My words stuck to my throat before I could finish my question.

              Standing in front of me was Jonah.

              And yet…it wasn’t Jonah at all.

              I had never seen him this polished looking. He looked like a gleaming piece of obsidian, hard and black.

              Standing tall, he wore the tailored black suit like a second skin. When I had met him, he had been wearing a black leather jacket and jeans and while they had been clearly expensive clothes, they were still casual and rough.

              But in this suit, Jonah looked like god himself. Every aura of power and authority that surrounded him was magnified. The crispness of the white shirt highlighted the bronze of his taut skin. The black stubble looked even blacker against the white.

              He looked taller, broader, bigger, and just more…powerful.

              He was almost unrecognizable.

              I stood, mouth agape, as I stared at him.

              But it wasn’t the suit or the slicked back hair that made him unrecognizable. It was his eyes.

              The dark eyes looked at me with a cold unfamiliarity that made me almost shiver in response. After days of having me tucked in his embrace, feeling his cock drive passionately into me, and his lips roughly kissing mine, seeing his look of cold dispassion made me take a step back.

              The awkward cool pause between us was broken by a frustrated sigh.

              I looked over Jonah’s shoulder and saw a tall woman standing next to him. With short sleek black hair and sharp cheekbones, she looked like a French supermodel. Wearing a fitted cream dress that showed off her lean arms and ungodly long legs, she raised a thin brow at me.

              “Hello,” she said in the shortest, most curt voice I had ever heard. The word sounded less like a greeting in her voice and more like a demeaning call. “My fiancé left his phone here apparently. Do you happen to know if you have it?”

              I swallowed hard, feeling the world swim around me. My eyes immediately darted up towards Jonah but all I was greeted with was that same cool look.

              “Fiancé?” I croaked, my heart shattering like a cracked mirror. I could feel each fracture worming their way through my heart. It was then that I noticed Jonah’s arm around the woman’s waist, holding her close and familiarly. It made my throat clamp up to see it.

              I remembered how it felt to be held like that. By him.

              The woman looked at me impatiently. “Yes,” she said. She made a small gesture towards Jonah. “I’m sure you must remember if someone like Jonah Lowell makes it into a store like this.” She gave the small place a disdainful look over.

              Oxygen seemed to be leaking out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.

              “Lowell?” I whispered. But…he wasn’t. He wasn’t Jonah Lowell. He was Jonah Lawrence. He was
my
Jonah.

              The woman raised a brow in surprise. “Surely, this place can’t be so out of touch that you wouldn’t know who Jonah Lowell is?”

              Of course I knew Jonah Lowell. At least by name. He was the supposed billionaire playboy who ran the streets of New York like his personal harem.

              Icy water slid through me as realization sank in. I looked up at Jonah, unwilling to accept the truth but unable to deny it.

              So that was the mysterious stranger’s hometown. He had come in from New York.

              Was that all I had been? Another conquest to make? New York wasn’t enough? He had to come find me in my small corner of the world to seduce me for some extra kicks?

              “Lowell,” I said softly under my breath. “You’re Jonah Lowell.”

              Jonah’s lips curled into a faint smile as his gaze turned icy. “It’s a rare person who doesn’t recognize me instantly. It’s been a humbling experience, I’d have to say,” he said, his voice deep and familiar and yet so cold and cruel.

              The woman next to him sighed, exasperated. “There’s nothing humbling about that!” she snapped. “It just shows absolute ignorance of a person if they don’t recognize the Lowell name.” She turned to me, clearly not bothered by having just rudely insulted me to my face. “Now, do you or do you not have his phone?”

              Moving as if through the bottom of the sea, I reached behind the register and pulled out of the thin black phone. The woman immediately snapped it up.

              “Finally,” she said, phone in hand. “Now we can get out of here.” She turned her head up towards Jonah, her gaze immediately softening and her lips turning into a seductive pout. “The helicopter is ready. We should get going.”

              Jonah looked down at her and gave her a smile that could melt stone. And I ached so keenly seeing it. “Let’s go then,” he said. “It’s been more than enough time for me to get back to the city.”

              And without another backwards glance, the two exited the store in a whiff of money and expensive perfume.

              I gazed at the door in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened.

              That couldn’t have been real.

              I had literally just left Jonah in bed this morning. My skin still burned from his touch last night. Hadn’t it just been hours since I had felt him inside me, deep and hard?

              A dull
thud
snapped me out of my stupor.

              Through the glass in the door, I could see the morning paper had been delivered. Moving like a robot, I walked towards the door but didn’t open it. Peering through the glass, I could make out the inky headline.

             
Playboy Billionaire Jonah Lowell Finally Nabbed By New York Socialite Vanessa Winters. Engaged and Planning Their Wedding!

              Below the headline was an older picture of the two exiting some kind of private gala event, arm in arm with that matching look of urban elegance.

              They looked so right together, so perfect, I almost wanted to throw up. What the hell had the last few weeks been? Some kind of getaway for him? Had I just been a distraction from the normal New York conquests?

              I swallowed harshly, tears stinging my eyes. Had my heart been that trivial to him?

              I heard a distant shuffling behind me.

              “Who was that?” Alex asked in confusion.

              I didn’t bother turning around. I could hardly tear my eyes away from the photo of Jonah. The man I thought I had known. That I thought I had even loved.

              “Nobody,” I said softly. “It was nobody.”