Free Romancing the Billionaire by Jessica Clare Page B

about this?”
    â€œâ€˜Be adults about this’?” She laughed, the sound hysterical. “You’re the one pawing me every chance you get.”
    â€œI love you, Violet,” he said quietly, his tone deathly earnest. No loud crowing of affection for Jonathan; just quiet, solemn intensity. “I never stopped loving you. Ever. I want you back.”
    She trembled, her entire body shaking violently with the force of emotions swirling through her. “You lost my love when you abandoned me.”
    He shook his head. “I was nineteen, Violet. What nineteen-year-old wants to settle down and raise a family?”
    â€œYou should have thought about that before you got me pregnant!”
    He stilled.
    She sucked in a breath. The look on his face was terrible in its bleakness.
    â€œWhat . . . did you say?” He could have been carved from granite, for all the emotion he showed.
    â€œI was pregnant and you still abandoned me,” Violet said softly, because screaming at him in the face of such stillness seemed . . . unnatural. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know.”
    â€œI didn’t.” He sounded deflated.
    â€œI told you I wanted to go home and start a family immediately. And when that wasn’t clear enough, I left you a note.”
    â€œI never got a note.”
    She didn’t know what to think of that response. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I lost the baby a month later, so I’m not going to hit you up for child support.” All her anger was exhausting her. She’d carried it for so long, and spewing it now just felt . . . lackluster. She shook her head. “Look. I just want you out of my life, all right? Whatever we had between us died ten years ago. I want this done so I never have to see you again.”
    He stared at her.
    He kept staring at her for so long, utterly still, that she grew unnerved. “What?” she snapped.
    â€œThere was a baby?” The words were calm, flat.
    â€œDon’t start this game, Jonathan,” she said wearily. “Just don’t. You can’t reverse ten years of hatred with a bit of pretending, okay? So don’t even try.”
    As she watched him, he seemed to leach of color, the light, the intensity in his eyes that was so very Jonathan seeming to die in front of her. He sat back, looked at her for a moment more, and then turned to the driver—who, Violet was horrified to notice, had been listening to the entire conversation. “Hotel, please,” Jonathan said hoarsely.
    Violet sat back in the seat, her arms crossed, her mouth still bruised from his kiss, and stared out the window as they pulled away from her childhood home.
    Why did she feel like the bad guy here? She was the wronged party, not Jonathan.

FOUR

    N ow he knew why she hated him.
    Jonathan watched Violet march across the lobby of the hotel. He trailed behind her, just staring after her with longing as she checked in, flicked an angry glance his way, and then disappeared into the elevator.
    Moving right back out of his life again, he thought bleakly.
    He thought about heading up to his room and emptying the minibar. Just drinking away his misery. But the minibar didn’t have enough to numb him. He headed to the hotel bar instead.
    The bartender was young, pretty, and female, with a wealth of curly black hair. She gave him an appreciative look. “What can I get you, gorgeous?”
    He sat down at the bar. “Scotch.”
    â€œOn the rocks?”
    â€œIn the bottle.” He tapped the front of the bar. “Just bring it.”
    â€œBad day?” She gave him a sympathetic look and turned to get the bottle.
    â€œOne of the worst,” he agreed. Second only to the day that Violet had left him. He took the glass she poured in front of him, slammed it, and waited for her to fill it again. He didn’t normally drink to oblivion. He didn’t like to