Start Again Series: A Billionaire Romance Box Set

by J. Saman

“It would probably help, yeah.”

  God, I’ve missed that accent wrapped in her sweet melodic voice.

  We stare at each other for a long pulsing beat, and this is the moment where things turn awkward.

  Do we hug? Do I give her a kiss on the cheek or a damn hand shake or what?

  I opt for the hug, and she does the same. I can’t resist breathing in the scent that I’ve lived without for far too long and press my lips to her forehead. “Hi,” I whisper before pulling back.

  “Hi,” she replies equally as quiet, but her tone warbles, and her eyes refuse to meet mine.

  “You look beautiful,” I say softly, but loud enough for her to hear. “How’ve you been?”

  She shifts her weight, surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder in Craig’s direction before giving me her full attention. God that makes me sick.

  “I’ve been good, Luke,” she says tightly. “What about you? You look well.” Her eyes continue their protest against mine.

  I want to tell her that I’m not well. I want to tell her that I’m a fucking asshole and that I’m sorry. That I miss her like I’ve never missed anyone or anything before. I want to tell her I finally made the changes that I silently promised her a year ago I would make.

  Look at me, Ivy. She doesn’t.

  “I’m okay,” I opt for instead. “What brings you to town?”

  Again with that look in Craig’s direction, but he’s still engrossed in conversation with Ryan, who is watching me and Ivy instead of paying attention. “I . . . uh, we . . .uh, moved back a week ago.”

  Any hope I had spontaneously combusts and the vacuous hole in my chest grows impossibly larger.

  “You and Craig.” It’s not a question, but she nods slowly, chewing on the corner of her mouth the way she does when she’s nervous about something.

  I want to turn away from her and leave.

  My heart feels like it’s broken all over again and I just don’t have the stomach to stand here and watch the two of them together.

  How did I let this happen?

  “I was going to ring you,” Ivy says hastily, shifting her stance. “I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else that I was back in town and . . .,” she trails off. “I was a complete knob and couldn’t do it.”

  I laugh and try my best to make it sound natural and not as forced as it feels.

  But I don’t get to respond to her, because fucking Craig douchebag Stanton decides to take this moment to spot me. A big satisfied asshole of a smile spreads across his face, and I want to pulverize him. Jealousy creeps up my spine, licking a path of fire that automatically has my fists clenching and my chest leaning in before I force myself to relax.

  “Luke, how’s it going, man? Good to see you.”

  Asshole.

  “You too, Craig. Welcome back to the west coast.” I don’t mean that for a second.

  We’ve garnered the attention of everyone else in the small party, and it feels like a million pairs of eyes are focused on me all at once. Like I’m on stage performing—which maybe I am, because I’m smiling instead of beating this man to within an inch of his life.

  “Thanks.” Craig slides his arm around Ivy’s waist, pulling her possessively close to his side. She tenses slightly, her eyes lowering to the floor, not in shame or embarrassment, but in consideration. She’s uneasy with his public display in front of me.

  After everything I put her through, she still cares about how I feel.

  Which tells me that she still cares about me.

  Which tells me absolutely everything I need to know.

  And now I’m smiling like I mean it. Now I stand up tall, allowing my broad shoulders to roll back as I level Craig with my most confident cocky expression. She’s not yours, dickhead.

  “I don’t know how long we’ll be here.” The prick really did just emphasize we. “Ivy’s dad isn’t doing all that well, so she wanted to be close to him. When he rebounds, I think we’ll end up heading back to Boston.”

  This gets her attention, almost like that little statement is news to her.

  Another check for me.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dad, Ivy.” I smile warmly at her, my eyes drinking in and absorbing every luminous feature. “I really like him, ballbuster that he is. Is he doing okay?”

  Ivy gives a half-smile. “He really liked you, too.” Score! “I think he’ll be fine. Just some kidney issues.”

  I frown at that. “Well, I’m sure having you close means the world to him and your mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  I get a smile that lights up her eyes, and it’s like staring into two flawless diamonds.

  “On that bright note, Ivy and I need to get going,” Craig says with that arrogant smile of his. “It was good to see you again, Luke.” He moves forward, pulling me in for some sort of bro hug when he whispers in my ear, “Looks like I got her in the end. No hard feelings, of course, but you can fuck off any time.”

  Craig smacks my back hard, and when he rejoins Ivy, I smile at him with a look of my own. It’s a look that says, she’s not fully yours and you know it. It’s a smile that says, game on, motherfucker.

  I drag Ivy in for a hug and now it’s my turn to whisper.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.”

  She doesn’t freeze or stiffen, though she maintains her space with an uneasy laugh that tells me she’s not surprised by my declaration. That said, she’s not exactly thrilled either by the notion of seeing me again, and was clearly hoping it wouldn’t turn to this.

  And that feels like a knife to the gut.

  They leave the bar together after saying their goodbyes to everyone else, his hand on her lower back. It burns too much to watch, so I don’t. Instead, I turn back to all the waiting eyes, affixing my smile and backing it up with overconfidence.

  “That went better than expected.” I smile, and they just stare at me like I’m nuts. Maybe I am, but it’s game time, and one thing about me is that I never lose. I may make stupid as all hell decisions, may screw up constantly, but losing is never an option.

  24

  Luke

  * * *

  “Don’t do it,” Kate says with a stern look on her face that only mothers can get away with.

  “Do what?” I feign innocence, but know I’m not fooling anyone. It’s probably the stupid grin on my face that’s giving me away. Yeah, that must be it.

  “She’s happy, Luke,” Kate continues. “Leave her alone.”

  “Nah.” I wave her away. “No way in hell she’s happy with that dick. Did you see her face when she saw me? When he touched her?” I’m looking at everyone in turn, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment that I’m not delusional and fabricating things that weren’t really there.

  But no one is really looking at me.

  They’ve got these expressions going, and are trading glances back and forth between each other that hint at a deception of some kind, and I’m not digging it. It’s never a good thing when your friends hide things from you.

  Except Ryan, he looks just as clueless as I am.

  “Whatever,” Claire says, rolling her eyes. “She’s with sex-on-legs Craig Stanton, no way she’s going back to you.”

  “Thanks, Claire,” I deadpan. “Always nice to have your support.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, cupcake.” She blows me a kiss.

  “You don’t really think she’s happy with him, do you?”

  Only Ryan shrugs. Kate and Claire look away. Again. And Lyla who just looks down at the floor with a frown. This whole not-making-eye-contact thing is starting to bother me. Prickles of paranoia are slithering up my skin, and I wonder just how big that thing is that I’m missing.

  Are they getting married or something? I didn’t see a ring on her finger.

  “Whatever the case with her and Craig, I don’t think she’ll give in to you again.” That’s Claire, and as always, she’s unhelpful.

  “You do know that you’ve been my friend lo
nger, right?”

  Claire shrugs. “I like her more. She’s fun. When I grow up, I want to be her sister, Sophia.”

  “I know, right,” Kate says, slapping Claire’s arm playfully. “Sophia is freaking awesome. I can’t wait to see her again. I’m so happy Ivy moved back.”

  “Traitors. All of you,” I point at the people that I previously referred to as my friends.

  “I’m still on your side,” Ryan offers. “And who knows, maybe third time’s a charm for you two.” He’s teasing me, and it’s annoying, but he’s also right. I have so much ground to make up with her, and that ground has turned into Mount fucking Everest now that she’s with someone. Not just someone—a pediatric surgeon who she works with and is, according to Claire, sex on legs.

  I may just be screwed here.

  Why didn’t I make her see me that day? Any of those days? Why did I allow her to walk away without talking to me?

  “You really think I’m done?” I ask no one or everyone or myself.

  They’re all silent, and though we’re in the middle of a crowded bar, I feel like I could hear a pin drop.

  “But things are different now,” I persist, trying to convince no one or everyone or myself.

  “Are they, though?” Claire says. “I mean, we still don’t know dick about you, Luke, and I think that was the crux of the problem the last time, if I recall.”

  “Why are pasts and histories so important to you women?” I point at Claire and Kate, and even Lyla, who is silently watching all of this. “For that matter, why can’t you ladies just be happy in the present? I mean, you’re all about knowing every damn detail about a man’s past, and once he spills that, you’re all about the goddamn future. Where is this going? What does this all mean? Shit, just be happy in the fucking moment!” I slam my hand on the hard high-top table with a little more force than I intend, causing some of the drinks to slosh and spill. “Sorry, I’m just aggravated.”

  “Listen, Luke,” Claire says, moving until she’s right in front of me, and I’m forced to look down and meet her dark-blue eyes. “Not all women are like that. Personally, the last thing I want is someone’s story, but I think I’m unique in that. I still can’t imagine how you all go after relationships with outstretched arms like they’re the end-all and be-all. But Ivy is like that. And if you want a relationship with her, a real one, you need to be willing to give her all of you. Because that’s what people do when they’re in love and shit.” Claire turns to Ryan and Kate looking for backup. “Am I right here? You two are my relationship compass, and you’re all about the sharing of stories and feelings,” Claire says that last word in an acerbic tone.

  “You’re not wrong,” Ryan says calmly, his eyes blazing into mine.

  “I pulled back. I managed to get myself out, well, partially out. But I’m out enough that I can be with her. Why can’t that be enough?”

  “Maybe it is, but maybe it’s not,” Kate says. “But it’s still going to be something hanging over your head no matter what. I don’t know your past, but I don’t need to. If you love Ivy, if you want her the way you say you do, then you need to trust her.”

  “I know.” I sigh, just a little defeated, and a lot sick with the idea of fessing up.

  It was something I had hoped I could build up to slowly or not do at all, but something tells me Ivy won’t even consider me again unless I’m willing to lay it all out there for her. Unless I do give her everything and let her pick. And then there’s a real and distinct possibility that she won’t pick me.

  “Love sucks.”

  “Right?” Claire snorts. “That’s why I don’t entertain that emotion. It’s nothing but trouble.”

  “Not for everyone, Claire,” Duchess Kate says, maybe a little hurt by her best friend’s words as she rubs a tender caress over her enlarged belly. “Love can be painful, and sometimes, indescribably awful, but avoiding it altogether?” She shakes her head.

  “Whatever, I’m a lot younger than you love-struck fools, and maybe when I’m old, I’ll be there too.” Claire turns back to me, giving me her full attention. “Luke, man the hell up. Stop being a pussy and go after her ready to do battle and hand her the keys to your . . . whatever the hell you call that thing.”

  I run a hand through my short, slightly prickly hair.

  “You guys suck, you know that? What’s the point of having friends if you’re not going to lie to my face and tell me that everything is going to be fine? I mean, what the fuck?”

  They snicker and smile, but I’m sort of not joking here. Sort of anyway.

  I leave the bar and my friends who think I’m an asshole for wanting to go after Ivy and do something I should not be doing. I hack the GPS on her phone and find out where she lives.

  Okay, so maybe I am an asshole. In my defense, I felt guilty as shit about it, but there is no way I could ask Claire or Kate where she lives. But I promise to use my powers for good and not evil.

  I’m repeating history a little too closely here.

  Especially since it’s now dawn and I’m sitting in the doorway of a building across the street from her new apartment. Or rather her and Craig’s apartment. Yeah, that was bitten out, get over it.

  But this is exactly what I did after the night I saw her again at Kate and Ryan’s dinner party. Only this time, she lives in a high-rise. These buildings aren’t really my type. I get people are all about amenities, but the cookie-cutter layouts, small accommodations, and nosy neighbors don’t do it for me.

  I like my space. I like my private space.

  So why am I here?

  Because I couldn’t sleep, of course.

  My friends’ ugly words have been playing in my mind on repeat, and that made me restless and had me hacking shit, which led me here. I’d love to say my activities weren’t illegal, but I’d be lying, and that is something I don’t do.

  Hey, we all have our limits.

  Is omitting really the same as lying? I mean, that’s sort of a fine line, right? I think I’ll walk on the side that says omitting really isn’t the exact same as lying.

  So here I sit on freezing cold steps without the luxury of a bench, waiting for the sun to fully rise—it’s scheduled to anyway—and once it does, I need to find Ivy.

  I told her I’d see her again today, and she didn’t tell me no.

  To me that’s an invitation.

  Does that make me creepy as hell?

  Probably, but when you’ve got nothing going for you, you grasp at whatever you can.

  And I’m grasping.

  I can’t let her go again. I just can’t. I need Ivy more than I need anything or anyone else in my life, and though I’ve fucked up a time or two or six, I’m determined to make it right.

  I decide that I’m not going to stalk her–okay, I may already be doing that–but I decide I’m going to text her and ask her to meet me for breakfast at a coffee shop around the corner so we can talk. And even though it’s early as hell, I do that and then I wait for her to wake up and respond.

  It’s mercifully dry, but it’s not all that warm yet, so I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket and wait, but I don’t end up having to do that for very long. But my response is not in the form of a text message. No, before the sun is fully up, Ivy is walking out of her building, looking around like she’s expecting someone to jump out of the shadows at her.

  What are you willing to bet that someone she’s looking for is me?

  She’s not dressed for work. In fact, she’s not even in comfy clothes or pajamas, even though it’s barely five in the morning. She’s wearing tight-as-sin jeans, leather boots and a leather jacket.

  Holy fuck, is my girl going for a ride?

  Before conscious thought catches up with me, I’m running across the desolate dark street in her direction. I’m wary of startling her, so I call out, and she freezes, slowly turning to face me, not all that shocked to see me.

  “I was hoping to avoid this,” she says with a hint of annoyance.

&
nbsp; “But you know me too well,” I respond, stopping my little jog once I’m a foot or two away from her. It’s dark out, not quite pitch black, but the street lights are still on, and they’re definitely the only light we can see each other by.

  “What are you doing here, Luke?” She sounds tired. Possibly with me or possibly from lack of sleep while she stayed up all night thinking about me.

  “Do I really have to explain that or can we just bypass that nonsense where we pretend I don’t stalk you in a positive, healthy, non-threatening way?”

  Yeah, it’s there. That small twitch of her lips that says I can still make her smile. I could live off of that for years, making her smile.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” she says. I ignore the aggravated edge in her voice.

  “Sure you do,” I reply confidently. “You just don’t want to want to talk to me.”

  “Right, clearly, your ego has remained unscathed in the year since we’ve seen each other.” Ivy turns on me, suddenly full of rage that seeps from her pores as that perfect control she normally exudes slips away. “The real issue is,” she holds up a finger halting herself like she just remembered a point, “let me amend that, one of the main issues here is that we wouldn’t even be talking, you wouldn’t even be standing here, if I hadn’t run into you at the pub last night.”

  I’m shaking my head the entire time and this just seems to piss her off more.

  “How can you shake your head? How can you stand there and deny that?” She wants to hit me or slap me or shake me or do something violent. I can see it in her eyes. That fire, all that pent-up angst, tells me that she’s still mine.

  No one can make you this crazy unless you love them.

  “Because last night was not the first time I’ve seen you.”

  “Bloody liar!” she yells, and now she does shove me. I can see the hurt I’ve inflicted, rippling off in waves. It crumbles any charm and bravado I was trying to hold onto. It crumbles everything because hurting Ivy breaks me.

  I grab hold of her hands, locking them against my chest before I manage to pull her into me. She tries to fight me off, struggling like hell.