Page 21 of The Billionaire’s Fake Fiancée
Asher had mistaken his indifference for something deeper. He'd wanted Jace to become his lover.
Jace had turned him down, but by then it'd been too late. Asher was obsessed by Jace, would not let him go that easily. Asher had gone out of his way to get Jace's attention?with disastrous consequences.
Jace hadn't expected Asher to hurt him like that. Perhaps despite everything that happened between them, Jace had still considered Asher his close friend. And after what Asher did, Jace had simply withdrawn into himself.
It hadn't been Jace's style to throw tantrums. Unlike his father, who lost his temper at the least provocation, Jace had always been good at blanking people, cutting them out of his life completely, as if they never existed. A lot more like his mother than he'd cared to admit.
At twenty-two, Jace had opted to study in the US, going so far as to leave the continent itself behind.
It was only when Jace's mother committed suicide that he returned home, for the funeral. He'd stayed away again afterward.
Now Jace is back in London and facing Asher.
The past comes rushing back, and he can't stop himself from hugging Asher in the memory of his mother—the woman they'd both cared for in their own way. And lost. As if sensing his thoughts, Asher reaches up to wrap his arm around Jace's neck. He pulls his head down, and then kisses him.
Asher's loneliness pours into Jace, swimming through him. For a second, he can't move.
Then Jace pushes against Asher, breaking his hold. He steps back so quickly Asher's hands fall to his side.
Asher looks at him. Desire squeezes his violet eyes into pinpoints of black.
"Don't," Jace says. "What the fuck, man?" Anger explodes inside, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Asher holds up both his hands. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean for that to happen." The pain in his voice is evident.
"Just like you didn't mean to sleep with my mother. Like you didn't mean to push her to her death."
Jace is not sure why that slips out. He'd never known he'd miss his mother, not till she was gone.
Asher's face pales. He looks as if Jace punched him in the gut.
Turning, Jace strides away, through the French doors and toward the bar.
He can't put this off any longer. It's time to pay for his mistakes.
9
Sienna
* * *
A prickle of awareness ripples across my skin. Crossing the floor, Jace takes a barstool at the far end. His jacket clings to his shoulders, shows off his slim waist. He looks sleek, streamlined.
The bartender hands him a drink.
When Jace reaches for it, the makings of his tattoo peeks over the mandarin collar of his shirt. His back is erect, straight as if he's gathering strength to face whatever is in store.
He turns and meets my look head on. I flush, but don't turn away. I will not turn away.
I hold his gaze. Search for those familiar silver-green sparks in his eyes. Search for a clue that the man I saw outside, the one overcome with emotion, is the same cold, calculating man I'd met in Silicon Valley.
What I see instead is a man who is shattered. Jace is hurting. The stark loneliness in him reaches out to me, pulls at me. Before I realize it, I'm walking over to him without breaking that connection. I slip onto the barstool next to him.
When I gesture to his drink, the bartender places whiskey in front of me. I toss it back. The liquid burns its way down, and I cough. My eyes water, and I wipe away the tears. Then I sit there for another few seconds, letting my breathing stabilize.
Without waiting to be asked, the bartender tops up both our glasses.
This time, I clink my glass to Jace’s without saying a word.
