"Let me guess," Violet said flatly. "He's handing out money in exchange for me traveling with him for the next few weeks."
Jonathan bit back a smile at Violet's astute observation, and at the way Esparza spluttered, clearly surprised that Violet had already figured things out. But his Violet had always been sharp.
"I assure you, Ms. DeWitt, it's all very aboveboard," Esparza began. "It's just that Mr. Lyons is looking for an expert on history, and what with the school being so tightly budgeted and all-"
He hated to see the poor woman get so flustered. Getting to his feet, Jonathan pushed his hands into his pockets and affected his "playboy billionaire pose," all smiles and leaning elegance. "What the lovely principal is trying to say, Violet, is that I requested the company of an old friend for traveling. You told me you couldn't possibly leave the school in a lurch and there was no money for substitutes. I ensured there was. It's the least I can do to spend some of my money in a philanthropic gesture."
Violet turned to him, her eyes practically stabbing daggers at him. "I presume if I don't go with you, none of this windfall of magical philanthropic money will ever make it to the school district, right?"
Actually, it would, but she didn't have to know that. "Nope," he lied. "And I have it on good authority that a few people will be let go at the end of the semester to keep the budget running. And no iPads or musical instruments for the children. Poor, poor children." He shook his head. "All deprived of a better education because of the self-centered needs of one teacher."
Violet's hands clenched at her sides. She looked ready to spit nails. Or attack him. He didn't care which. Either was better than the cold indifference she'd served him yesterday. He could take a fiery, feisty Violet who hated him. He couldn't do anything with a woman who pretended he didn't exist. "So basically I'm being blackmailed to go with you and chirp historical facts in your ear?"
"Yep," Jonathan said lazily. "You going to do it?"
"I don't have a choice, do I?" Violet ground out.
"You do. But think of all the children who would suffer if you chose selfishly."
"Mr. Lyons," Principal Esparza cut in, a frown on her lined face. "I really don't know that this is appropriate after all-"
"It's all right, Betty," Violet said, and her voice sounded tired. "I figured he was going to try something like this the moment I saw him this morning. I'll go with him. It's fine. Just be sure you get that money in writing, and make sure the contract's ironclad." She looked over at Jonathan, clearly seething. "When do we leave, oh, philanthropic one?"
He couldn't quite hide his triumphant grin. "Tomorrow."
-
That evening, Jonathan couldn't keep his mind off of a certain schoolteacher.
Tomorrow. Violet would be his again, starting tomorrow. He lounged in the backseat of the Lyons sedan as his driver headed to his hotel, a pleased smile on his face.
Oh, sure, she didn't want to be at his side, but she'd come around eventually. She'd always been prickly at first meetings. He remembered the first time she'd met him, back when she'd had those long, beautiful braids and a tart mouth. At nineteen, she'd had no patience for fools, and he'd definitely been a foolish boy, utterly giddy just to be in her presence. She'd been snippy to him then, too. It was clear that Violet wore a suit of armor around her heart, and she didn't let anyone get near.
She reminded him of one of his friends, Hunter, though he'd worn his scars on the outside. And so he'd decided to befriend Violet, because she was gorgeous and smart, and, hell, he'd been a horny nineteen-year-old. It had taken him about a week to get her to open up and let her defenses down, and then Violet had been a warm, teasing, delicious girl.
He remembered the way she smiled, as if she knew a secret no one else did.
She'd been giving that smile to another man earlier today, the one who sat next to her in the meeting. Jonathan's hand clenched his phone, fury bolting through him. Violet had said she wasn't married. That didn't mean she wasn't seeing someone. Jealousy snaked through him. If she wasn't married, she was still fair game. He'd simply have to seduce her back to softness, back to smiling at him like that.
He wanted her. Pure and simple. He'd always wanted Violet. He'd never stopped.
The car pulled up in front of the hotel and Jonathan got out, still lost in thought. To think that he was in Detroit several times a year for auto industry meetings, and had never known that his Violet was right under his nose, teaching at a local school.
Fate worked in mysterious ways.
Jonathan headed up to his familiar hotel room. He tended to be in Detroit a lot for business, and though it probably would have been fiscally wiser to purchase a residence here, he stayed in the Townsend because he couldn't be bothered with setting down roots. He didn't want a house. Not if it meant coming home and finding it empty and hollow.