Page 43 of Meet Jon, the Billionaire

“It’s okay,” I said as I slipped into the hot, sudsy water. “Spiders can’t swim.”

Soon I forgot all about the spider, because my mind was back to dwelling on Jonathon. It hit me then that what I felt for him wasn’t a simple thing. I couldn’t boil it down to whether he made me laugh, or he was great in bed. I really do think that some people are just better together than they were apart. And I was starting to wonder if Jonathon and I were like that, too.

I hung out in the tub until my fingers got all pruney, and I still didn’t have any answers. Eventually I got out and sat by the window in my living room while I waited for my hair to dry, looking down on the city.

I wondered if, somewhere out there in those twinkling lights. Jonathon was thinking of me, too.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jonathon

I spent most of the night awake, ostensibly trying to figure out a way to let Amelia have the corner lot and still not tank the value of Acme Bread.

In reality, I stared out the window. I paced. I tried a shot of scotch to see if it would settle my nerves and allow me to sleep. Amelia was driving me crazy. I literally couldn’t get her out of my head, and not just for the right reasons. Part of me wanted to crush her hopes of gaining the corner lot just to get it over with, and my arrogance tried to convince me it would work.

Fortunately, I wouldn’t have been as successful as I had been if I listened to my arrogant half. I realized that I was displacing. I wasn’t upset with Amy at all. I was pissed off at myself.

If I had just told her the first day… no, that probably wouldn’t have worked. Not after I one-upped her on the whole buffet table thing. Damn it. Am I being punished for my dirty tactics and greed? Sure seems like it.

The day at the races was proof to me that Amelia and I had what it took to make it as a couple. We had a lot of fun, sure, but there was more to it than that. I felt as if just having Amelia for a little while wasn’t going to cut the mustard. I either had to have her forever, or not have her at all.

Unfortunately, the chances of us ending up together grew slimmer by the day. Even if she did manage to beat me fair and square in the bidding war, then she’d still eventually find out I was her enemy. I was the one who ruined her buffet at the tennis tournament, after all, and then I hid that fact with her.

It occurred to me I should have come clean before I slept with her, if nothing else. Not that I regretted it—not one bit. It had been the best sex I’d ever had, literally. And hot damn, Amelia was sweet. So fucking sweet…

I sank into a despondency that led me to empty half the bottle of scotch. I’m not so sure that I fell asleep so much as I simply passed out drunk. What I am sure of is the rude awakening I received.

“Wakey wakey, Jonathon.”

For a reserved British guy, Darwin can sure as fuck broadcast his voice. I know he was a stage actor at one point in his life, so I guess that’s where it came from. Anyway, his powerful voice woke me from a scotch coma. Worse, the bastard threw the curtains open, bathing my face in the bright morning sunlight.

“Darwin, what in the actual fuck are you doing here?”

“You told me seven weeks ago not to let you sleep through your tee time at Seven Oaks. No matter what it took. I knew that a call or a text might not be sufficient, so I made sure to be here in person.”

“Ugh. I do remember that conversation now. In the future if I say any such bullshit, can you just call me out on it please?”

I sat up in bed, my hands touching my temples lightly. Every muffled footstep of his Bruno Maglis into the soft carpet still sounded like thunder. A pulse shot through my entire cranium, and my dreadfully empty belly recoiled in horror at the damage which I had wrought upon it.

“Please, Jonathon, if I called you on your bullshit, it would be a bloody full-time job in and of itself.”

He finished opening the curtains and smiled. “Face the day, Jonathon. Face the day.”

“I’d rather face my pillow,” I growled. I had an appointment to hit the links with Mason and Stan the Man. We rarely got to coordinate our schedules to play together. “I don’t even like those assholes.”

Not true, they were my best friends, but of course Darwin knew all of that.

“Chin up. Here, drink this.”

I stared at a glass of orange juice in his hand… or at least, I thought it was orange juice. It didn’t smell right. “What is this?”

“Orange carrot juice, with a bit of milk, turmeric, and ginger. My guaranteed hangover cure.”

He handed it over. I sniffed, then shrugged and downed it. I grimaced for a moment as the cool liquid hit my boiling stomach… and then sighed in relief.

“In truth, the ginger is what mainly does the trick for the nausea,” Darwin explained. “But the juice hydrates you, and provides electrolytes you lost during your binge. The turmeric should reduce swelling and alleviate some of your head pain.”

“All I know is it’s working.” I stood up and stretched, realizing I’d fallen asleep in my clothes. “Thanks Darwin. You can go now.”

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