Romancing the Billionaire (23 page)

And now that they'd spent a few weeks together, he expected her to just jump back into bed with him and into his life as if no time had passed?

To be fair, she was the idiot crawling all over his bed, so she wasn't blameless. Even though she loved being with Jonathan again, sexually, she still didn't know how she felt about that gap in their relationship. She didn't know if she could ever get past that. The sex was great, but what was sex without love? Jonathan said he loved her, but . . . she didn't know.

She just didn't know anything anymore.

A
fter agonizing for hours, Violet made up her mind.

She quietly packed her bags and dressed for a flight home. She called in a ticket at the airport, arranged for a taxi, and when she could put it off no longer, she headed down the hall for Jonathan's room.

Her heart ached and felt like a stone in her breast. Just this morning, she'd been happy, so incredibly, stupidly happy. But that happiness was exceedingly fragile; it had only taken one offhand comment from Jonathan for her to realize just how much they didn't know about each other.

And she was too responsible now to plunge headlong into another bad relationship that would only leave her aching and empty again. Better to cut her losses now, while she still could. If she got in any deeper, she might not be able to stand it.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Violet clutched her purse close and knocked at Jonathan's hotel room door. She heard him bound across the room and the door swung open. Jonathan stood there, his shirt rumpled, his hair a mess, and his face looking tired and aged, despite the fact she'd seen him only a few hours ago.

“Violet,” he murmured, and held the door open wider. “Come in.”

“Actually,” she said softly, “I can't.” Her heart ached and tears threatened. “I came to tell you good-bye.”

“No,” he breathed. His eyes narrowed, grew hard. “Violet, no. Don't do this to me.” He reached for her as if he wanted to hold her, and then drew back, as if sensing she would pull away. “Violet, please. Let's talk about this—”

“There's nothing to talk about, Jonathan. I just . . . Coming here was a mistake. I allowed myself to be sucked in, and I think it's time I went home and went back to my normal life before I get pulled in too deep. It was great seeing you, but I can't do this.”

“We don't have to go to your father's grave,” he said quickly. The look in his eyes was tense. “We can forget he ever started this scavenger hunt bullshit. Just stay with me.
Please
.”

She shook her head, backing away a step or two. “Don't make this more difficult than it already is—”

“Make this more difficult?” He barked a laugh and it was hard, ugly. “It doesn't seem like it's difficult for you to leave me at all. This is the second time things have gotten intense and you've turned and ran.”

“That's not fair.” She clutched her purse against her side like it was a lifeline.

“I don't give a shit about fair, Violet. I love you.” His voice was ragged, and the pain on his face was terrible to see. “I've always loved you. It's never changed.”

“But
I've
changed, Jonathan. I think that's where we keep having a difference of opinion. I have changed and I don't know that you have.” Her smile was apologetic, sad.

“You're not even giving me a chance. Goddamn it, Violet, at least give me a chance!”

She knew she wasn't. But she also knew she didn't have to give him a chance. It was obvious to her how these things would turn out. “Let's say I did. Let's say I jumped right back into your bed and we continued on our merry way. What then?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happens next for us?”

He looked exasperated by her question. “Whatever you want. I don't care, Violet, as long as we're together. That's all that matters to me.”

“Yes, but you have a life, and friends. So do I. You have archaeological expeditions you're supporting and a car company to run. I have school to teach. You're based out of New York, aren't you? I'm in Detroit. These things don't mesh really well. When would we see each other?”

He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut again, eyes narrowing as if sensing a trap.

She raised a hand into the air, a mute apology. “I know. There's no right answer. You can't just give up your business and your pursuits to come hang out with me while I teach, and I can't just abandon school and my students just so I can be your girlfriend.”

“Violet—”

She shook her head. “Don't you see? We've moved on. Moved past.”

“I don't see that at all,” he said, his voice rising. “I see you trying to shut me out again—”

“That's not true—”

“You won't even let me finish a sentence,” he snapped. “Is it because you won't like what I'm trying to say? Because it's easier to just decide that you already have your mind made up about me, and you'll just go on with your life without me?”

Her mouth clamped shut and she glared at him, irritation rising to the forefront. She'd been hurting when she'd approached his door, and now he was trying to turn this around on her? When he didn't say anything else—heaven forbid she interrupt him—she gave a small sigh. “I'm not here to argue with you—”

“No, you're just here to leave me.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked so tormented that she felt a twinge of doubt. “Violet, please. Whatever you want, I'll make it happen. I just don't want to lose you again.”

Her mouth forced itself into a wobbling smile. “What's that old saying about loving something and setting it free?”

“Don't,” he said harshly, and he averted his face, as if in pain.

“I'm sorry, Jonathan. I just . . . I just can't. I can't rely on anyone else for my happiness. It has to come from within me.”

“You make me happy, Violet.”

His eyes were curiously shiny, and that made her heart ache even more. It made what she had to say doubly difficult. “Yes, but I'm not sure if I feel the same.”

He closed his eyes. “Let me try to make you happy. Please, Violet. Just give me a chance.”

She shook her head. “Good-bye, Jonathan. Don't come after me, okay? Set me free.”

Before he could say anything else, she leaned forward, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then turned and raced for the elevator. If she looked back, she'd regret it. If she saw the pain in his eyes, it would just compound the pain she was feeling right now. But she knew that this was pain she could get over. She'd gotten over it once. She could do so again.

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 asshole 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.