Billionaire Boys Club 5 : Romancing the Billionaire(3)

In Dr. DeWitt, however, he'd found a mentor and a father figure who cared what Jonathan thought. Suddenly, he was important, and it was intoxicating.

But Violet had a quick and decisive change of heart. She didn't want a life of archaeological digs and adventure. She wanted home and a family, in that order. No more adventure, no more college, all at the age of nineteen. And she'd suggested that last night together that he give it all up and settle down with her.

Jonathan had laughed in her face, being a young ass**le full of himself.

She'd slapped him, burst into tears, and stormed out of his life.

That was the night he'd lost her, and it didn't take long before he regretted his cruelty. Greece without Violet at his side just wasn't the same. In fact, nothing was the same. He began to miss her with the same intensity with which he'd loved the archaeological expedition, and confessed to Professor DeWitt, whom he viewed as a mentor and friend, of his longing. He was thinking about going after Violet. Apologizing. Trying again.

But her father told him it was a mistake. According to him, Violet had been stateside for all of a week before she'd shacked up with an ex-boyfriend. And he'd handed Jonathan a stack of field notes to bury his sorrow. Devastated, Jonathan threw himself into work.

A few weeks later, Dr. DeWitt had told a moping, despondent Jonathan that Violet had married and it was time to move on. Did Jonathan want to accompany him to an unearthing of a new tomb in the Valley of the Kings?

He did. He had. And he'd sunk himself into adventuring, archaeology, extreme sports-whatever it took to distract himself from the fact that he'd f**ked up and lost Violet. When his father died and his older brother declared he didn't want the family albatross of Lyons Motors, Jonathan had taken over, determined to make a success of things. Ten years later, with hard work, ingenuity, and help from the Brotherhood-the secret society of businessmen he was part of-he'd turned it into a billion-dollar company. Between work and his excursions around the world, Jonathan kept a hectic, jet-setting lifestyle.

It never quite succeeded in distracting him from what he'd lost, though. Ten years later, he was still mooning over Violet DeWitt and how different things would have been if he'd settled down with her after all.

Footsteps clicked on the linoleum flooring of the school, bringing him back to the present. An endless moment later, the classroom door opened. Jonathan lifted his head.

There she was, standing next to the heavy wooden classroom door, a faint, disappointed frown on her face, as if she'd expected to see him but had hoped otherwise.

Just like that, his palms began to sweat again.

She was different than he remembered. That was to be expected-he wasn't the skinny nineteen-year-old boy with questionable skin and a lack of chest hair anymore. If anything, though, Violet had grown more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her . . . and more sedate. Gone was the wild, devilish look he'd loved so much, and the waist-length, streaked braids. This Violet was still tiny, but her lean figure had softened to lush curves, outlined by a demure black skirt and cream-colored blouse with a bow at the neck and long, billowing sleeves. She had plain black kitten heels on, no jewelry, and the long hair he remembered was cut into an asymmetrical black bob that was tucked behind one small ear and swung at her chin.




 

 

This was his wild Violet? It looked like her . . . and yet, not. Married life suited her, that was clear. She was as gorgeous as when he'd last seen her, and the thought of another man in her life made him ache inside. It should have been him at her side, but he'd been a selfish ass.

"Jonathan," she said in a flat, polite voice. "What a lovely surprise." Her voice indicated that it was neither a surprise nor lovely.

"Just a reminder, Ms. DeWitt, that visitors need to be checked in to the office in the future," Principal Esparza said, casting another friendly smile in Jonathan's direction.

"Of course. My apologies," Violet said, ever so polite. "Won't you come in, Jonathan?" She gestured at the classroom.

He gave a nod to his security guard, who turned to stand at the doorway in an alert pose. Not that Jonathan was expecting trouble at Neptune Middle School, of course, but he had found out a long time ago that looking important got you as many places-and sometimes more-than greasing palms did.

Violet's little heels clacked as she returned to sit at her oversized desk at the front of the room. He noticed she didn't offer him a seat, and eyed the rickety student desks lined up in neat rows. Her classroom was colorful and bold, pictures of exotic locations and maps of the world covering the walls, along with charts and flags. Despite the surroundings, the school was old and dark, the wood paneling warped with age, and he was pretty sure the tiles in the ceiling were going to fall down due to water damage. "Nice place. Where are your students?"