Romancing the Billionaire (3 page)

The cover was decorated with a Greek key design, and she'd written
AKROTIRI 2004
on it in bold, stylized letters. Returning to her bedroom, she curled up in the blankets and began to flip through the photos.

Her first—and only—trip to assist her errant father. Her mother had been against it, but Violet had been so excited to go, so very dazzled at the thought of spending the summer with her intelligent, famous father that she'd looked forward to it for what felt like forever. People joked that her dad was something like Jacques Cousteau for archaeology. She supposed that would be apt, if Jacques had neglected his family for two decades and driven his wife to drinking.

Violet flipped through the photos, thinking of that summer. Here was a picture of herself and her father near the excavation, pointing at a portion of a wall and smiling. Both of their faces were browned from the summer, and her hair was in two long, dark braids streaked with wild color. She was wearing a hideous pair of sunglasses and a tank top. Behind her in the picture, his hand at her waist, was Jonathan Lyons.

God, she'd been so in love with him. So incredibly stupid, but in love. As soon as she'd gotten to Santorini to spend the time with her father, she'd discovered that he'd invited a whole host of his students to his summer expedition as well. She'd been hurt, initially, having thought that she'd be special in her father's eyes, but her hurt soon turned to interest when she met Jonathan Lyons. Lyons Motors was famous—or infamous—for a line of cars that was rapidly becoming a joke, and he wasn't interested in the family business at all. Thin, a little geeky, and utterly enthusiastic about everything in the world, she'd thought Jonathan was cute.

There was something so incredibly exuberant and earnest about Jonathan that she'd loved. Whereas every move her father made seemed to be completely calculated, Jonathan appeared to live in the moment, and she adored that. His excitement for the dig was unquestionable. He'd been the first on site every morning and the last to leave. If something needed to be researched, Jonathan threw himself headlong into it.

He was a hundred percent intensity, bundled into an attractive nineteen-year-old college boy.

He'd been irresistible to her.

By the end of the first week, they were spending a lot of time together. By the second week, he'd kissed her and she'd flung him down on her bed and they'd screwed like rabbits. By the time a month had passed, she was in love.

By the time the second month had passed? She was pregnant with his baby.

It wasn't that they weren't careful. They were. They used condoms every time, but even condoms aren't infallible, and they'd been full of youth and enthusiasm, and sometimes he stroked in her a few times before putting on a condom, just because it felt so damn good for both of them. Jonathan had approached sex with the same intensity that he approached life—he was voracious and insatiable.

She had to admit, staring down at his photo, that he'd pretty much ruined her for other men. No other sexual experience had even come close.

Which sucked.

At nineteen, she hadn't even been upset that she'd become pregnant. She was utterly in love with Jonathan, and mentally linking their last names together and picking out names for the baby. If it was a boy, she'd call it Theseus DeWitt-Lyons, and a girl would be Ariadne DeWitt-Lyons, based on the myths of the labyrinth of Crete. She'd dreamed of marrying Jonathan and returning stateside to finish her college education and raise her family. It was clear that her father looked at her not as a daughter but as just another student on his dig, and she craved a family—a
real
family. She'd never had a functioning family, and the dream of a happy home was an intoxicating one. Instead of fantasizing about archaeological finds, Violet's head was filled with nurseries and starter homes. A husband and a wife and a child that was doted on and adored by both parents.

That was her new dream, and she couldn't wait to get started with Jonathan.

But she didn't want Jonathan to marry her just for the baby. She wanted him to marry her because he loved her and because he
wanted
to marry her. That was part of the fantasy, after all. She'd seen what it was like, firsthand, when parents married for the baby instead of for love. His family had money, and she wanted it to be his idea for them to get married, not hers, or it'd seem like she was simply digging for his fortune. In reality, Violet didn't give two craps about whatever car empire the Lyons family had. Her perfect life involved a homey cottage somewhere, family dinners with both children and husband, and kissing her spouse as he went off to work for the day. Some women dreamed of careers; Violet dreamed of a nuclear, close-knit family. It was all she'd ever wanted after a childhood of her mother's depression and miserable hidden drinking binges, and her father's long absences. She just wanted to be surrounded by
love
.

She'd been such a naive idiot back then.

Irritated, Violet flipped to the next photo in her book. Another of Jonathan, their cheeks pressed together as they stood on the Santorini beach. She remembered that night. That was the night before everything changed. They'd had a weekend furlough, and they'd decided to spend it together. They'd enjoyed a romantic dinner and spent the night at a hotel in Fira, and in bed, Violet had confessed her hopes to him. That she wanted nothing more than to start a family.

“It's not a bad idea . . . for the future,” Jonathan had told her absently, playing with her long hair.

That hadn't been what nineteen-year-old-and-pregnant Violet had wanted to hear. She'd turned to him in bed. “What are you going to do after we leave this dig? What happens to us?”

“What do you mean?” he'd asked.

She hadn't been happy that she had to spell it out. “When we leave here, what are your plans?”

He'd shrugged. “Go back to classes. Start the next semester. Wait for Dr. DeWitt's next invite.”

That . . . hadn't been what she'd wanted to hear. “And what about me?”

He'd given her that heartbreaking smile. “In a few years, maybe we'll both be working at the same university.”

In a few years? A few
years
? At nineteen, a few years seemed like a lifetime. “But . . . I want us to be
together
.”

“I want that, too.” He'd looked sad.

No, he wasn't getting it. She'd clutched at his arm. “I want us to be together when we leave here. I want us to start a family. Together.” She'd emphasized the last two words, hoping he'd realize what she was asking for and jump in with enthusiasm.

Start a family with you, Violet? God, I want nothing more. Let's do it!

I'd love to have babies with you, Violet.

I never want to leave your side, Violet.

Instead, he'd just furrowed his brow at her as if she were saying ridiculous things. “Start a family? Now?”

“Yes,
now
.”

He'd laughed. Laughed! And rattled off a million things he had going on. He needed to return to Dartmouth. He'd told Dr. DeWitt he wanted to go on his next dig, no questions asked. Then he had family members waiting for him to take an apprenticeship with his brother, the heir. It would be years before Jonathan could settle down and even think about family, and he was too young to consider it.

Every word had broken Violet's heart a bit more. Betrayed, she'd slapped his face and ran. She'd stormed out of their room and left him in Fira and returned to the dig. Then, she'd cried herself to sleep that night because she'd wanted the white picket fence and Prince Charming had other plans.

He'd tried calling her the next day, over and over again. Tried seeing her, but she avoided him. Instead, she poured all of her heartache into a letter. She hadn't wanted to tell him about the baby and use it as a tool to force him to her side, but she had no choice. She still remembered the last paragraph of the letter, down to the way it'd looked on paper.

If you love me, Jonathan, please come home with me. I want us to raise our baby together. If you care at all about being a father, please come with me. Please, please. I love you so much.

She'd more or less begged him to pick
her
, and he hadn't even bothered to respond. A sour taste filled Violet's mouth as she stared at the picture, and she slammed the photo album shut and tossed it across the room.

Fairy tales were bullshit. Prince Charming had ignored her letter. She'd gone home, cried for two weeks, and lost the baby a month later. Which made her cry harder.

And then she'd picked herself up, returned to college, and vowed that her happiness would never be contingent on anyone else's plans ever again.

In her mind's eye, she kept picturing Jonathan's look of pleasure earlier that day.
You called off the wedding? You're not married?

Violet thumped her fist into her pillow angrily, then flopped down on the bed, determined to sleep at some point that night. Jonathan had been shocked to hear that she wasn't married. So the saintly Dr. DeWitt had lied to his favorite protégé? Gee, there was a shock. Her father would have sold the shirt off his dead mother's back if it meant getting funding for a project. Violet had known that all her life. How could Jonathan not have realized that?

Briefly, she wondered if he'd ever gotten her letter.

It didn't matter in the end. Playing the baby card had been the only chip she'd had, and she'd lost that bargaining chip a month later. Jonathan wouldn't have stayed at her side regardless. Not when he had
other plans.

She supposed things worked out for the best, after all. If Jonathan hadn't turned her down, she might have ended up in a miserable marriage to the bastard, and he would have been trapped in a marriage because of a baby he didn't want. She'd seen his true selfishness.

Yep, life always worked out the way it was supposed to, she told herself as she settled down into bed again.

But she still had trouble sleeping that night.

T
he next morning, Violet woke up five minutes before her alarm was scheduled to go off, bleary-eyed and miserable. She stared at her phone, buzzing on her bedside with a text, and picked it up.

Staff mtg @ 7 am in cafeteria. MANDATORY. Be there!

Groaning, Violet fell back in the pillows. Who the hell scheduled an impromptu staff meeting at seven in the morning? It was going to be an especially miserable day considering she'd only gotten about two hours of sleep. Ugh. Hauling herself out of bed, Violet took a quick shower and began to get ready for work.

Forty minutes later, she pulled into the school parking lot with an extra-large coffee in hand and a throbbing headache. The parking lot was already full, which meant all of the staff was in for this early meeting. Oh, goody. Hurrying inside the school, she noticed there was a Lyons convertible parked in the fire lane in the front.

Surely that was coincidence, wasn't it? Lots of rich guys drove Lyons. Owning one of the flashy roadsters had turned into a status symbol a few years ago when they'd been featured in one of those high-octane car movies. After that, Lyons Motors had turned from joke to success. Not that she followed how his company was doing. At any rate, there were Lyons cars all over the roads. It didn't mean that asshole was still here, did it?

Eyes narrowed, Violet clenched her coffee in hand and headed to the cafeteria for the staff meeting.

Despite the early hour, the tables had been unfolded and teachers filled the seats. Esparza's portable little podium was at the front of the room, and behind her, a row of seats was filled.

Jonathan sat in one of the seats.

Violet's hand clenched violently, and her coffee spewed out of the paper cup, slopping all over her hand, her white sleeve, and the floor.

With a hiss, she dropped the cup and shook her hand to expel the stinging hot coffee, even as her friend Kirsten raced up with a stack of paper towels. “You okay?”

“Just peachy,” Violet told her, squatting in her heels and skirt to clean up her mess. “What's going on? What's with the meeting?”

“Something about funding,” Kirsten murmured, helping Violet mop up the coffee. “You know the school district's been in the red for a while.”

Oh, no. If it wasn't for the presence of that swanky car at the curb, Violet would have thought this was a layoff of some kind or an announcement of more programs being cut. But the fact that Jonathan—Daddy Warbucks himself—was sitting at the front of the room in one of his expensive suits?

It gave her a bad feeling. A real bad feeling.

She sat down at the back of the room, noticing that Jonathan's intense blue-eyed gaze was fixed in her direction. Goddamn it. He'd probably seen her spill her coffee everywhere. She wanted to seem cool and unaffected by his presence. Too late for that. Fine then. He wanted to eyeball her from afar? Violet leaned in close to the coach seated next to her. “Know what this is about?”

Coach Trammel shook his head. He was good looking, but he already had a boyfriend, and was a longtime friend of Violet's. “Not a clue. You?”

“Nothing,” she said, making sure to smile and laugh in his direction. When she looked back over at Jonathan, his face was stark with anger and possessiveness.
Good. Let me know how it feels, Johnny-boy. You gave up your claim ten years ago.

“Is everyone here?” Esparza called into the microphone, then beamed at the assembled teachers. “This won't take long, but I wanted to get all the teachers together to go over the good news.”

Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

Esparza clasped her hands together, practically dancing with excitement from behind the tiny podium. “As you all know, Neptune School District has had issues with funding over the last few years. You are all aware that the repairs on the gymnasium cost quite a pretty penny, and we've been worried that we'd have to cut back on student enrichment programs in order to keep everyone employed, and that also means outdated textbooks for another year or two.” Her smile grew brilliant. “But, I'm happy to announce that Mr. Jonathan Lyons of Lyons Motors has taken an interest in the Neptune School District and has made an extremely generous offer to pull us into the black and even allow us to purchase iPads for students in need.”

There were several gasps out of the audience, and some of the teachers clapped with excitement. Neptune was one of the poorer school districts in their area, with a lot of low-income families, and it was no secret that they were struggling. Heck, Violet's own paycheck reflected that they were struggling. She hadn't had a raise since she'd started there three years ago. But it was what it was.

“We'll be meeting with the school board over the next few days to determine the best way to allocate funds, but I just wanted you all to know how very excited we are about this.” Esparza clapped so enthusiastically that for a moment, she looked like an eager seal waiting for a fish. “And in addition, we're putting forth a motion to have the school renamed the Jonathan Lyons Middle School.”

Violet thought she might throw up in her mouth. The last thing she wanted was Jonathan's name everywhere she turned for the rest of her career. God, she'd have to switch school districts just to get away from reminders of him.

She looked over at Jonathan.

Still staring at her. Violet's eyes narrowed as the audience began to talk and excitedly clap again. Something wasn't adding up. Why was Jonathan taking such an interest in her school?

Her
school, the day after she turned him down and told him there was no way she could accompany him?

No no no no.

The meeting ended with that. Violet surged to her feet as the rest of the staff did, hoping to blend in with the crowd.

“Ms. DeWitt,” Principal Esparza called over the crackling microphone. “Could you please remain for a few minutes? I need to talk to you.”

Violet practically snarled with anger. She could just
guess
what this was about.

—

Jonathan watched as Violet more or less stomped to Principal Esparza's side. Her arms were crossed over her breasts and he noticed that one of the pale white sleeves of her blouse was now stained with coffee. Her breasts were heaving magnificently over her arms, though, and he had to force himself not to stare at them like a schoolboy.

Instead, he thought of the way she'd leaned into the man she'd sat next to and smiled at him. Laughed at him. Was that her boyfriend? An ex-lover? A current lover? Jonathan's hand clenched at his side and a surge of jealousy roared through him. He wanted to be the only one who got her damn smiles.

Not that she was smiling right now. She looked as if she wanted to shank him, actually. He grinned archly, knowing she was going to hate what came next. His Violet hated not being in control of things.

And she
would
be his again.

“Principal,” Violet said in a crisp, almost cold voice. She refused to look over at Jonathan. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, it's a bit unorthodox,” Esparza said, her voice becoming a little overly soothing and motherly. “But I hope you'll hear me out and listen without making judgment, of course.”

“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.

As he entered the suite, he noticed things were set out the way he liked, without having to ask. He was here often enough that his assistant simply faxed his schedule to the manager of the hotel, who made sure that Jonathan's every need was met before he had to ask, and he was paid handsomely for it. Thus he had extra pillows, bottles of his favorite water at the bedside, and bath sheets instead of a robe.

He also had a hooker in his bed. As usual.

The woman sat up as he entered the room and tugged off his tie. Jonathan barely glanced at her. He didn't have to. He knew what she'd look like. All the girls he got had a profile: Short. Dark haired. Jonathan didn't like romantic entanglements. He hadn't had a girlfriend since, well, since Violet. It was so much easier to pay someone for a quick fuck and then have them leave.