Don't Kiss The Heartbreaker (Billionaire Academy YA Romance Book 3)

by Holly Stevenson

  I blew out a long breath, staring at nothing as the pieces fell into place. “So the Carlisles didn’t tell Cade to ask me out to improve their chances for a merger?” I still couldn’t believe it.

  Mom shook her head, her eyes tight with sympathy. “I’m so sorry that’s what you thought. You must have been crushed. I wish you’d called and talked to me about it.”

  That would have been a rational way to handle it. Or to actually talk to Cade instead of running away from him. I swallowed, feeling heat prick the backs of my eyes. “Mom, I’ve been so mean to Cade. I ran out on him during the dance at prom, and then I blocked his number. He tried reaching out to me so many times, but I completely shot him down. What if it’s too late now?”

  She brushed the hair back from my cheek. “He’ll understand once you tell him what happened. Judging by how miserable he looked today, I think he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. But you do need to clear things up with him.”

  I nodded, picking up my phone.

  She touched my hand. “I think it will be better in person,” she said, smiling. “Besides, it’s getting close to curtain call, and we still need to do hair and wardrobe.” She motioned for Jillian, who moved forward, bag at the ready.

  “Wait.” I held up my hand, stopping her. She sighed and tapped her foot on the floor.

  Mom looked at me, confusion wrinkling her otherwise perfect brows. “What is it, honey?”

  I sighed, building up the courage to say something I should have admitted a long time ago. “Mom, I don’t want to do the pageant.”

  She froze, like a slow-motion figure standing in the midst of a flurry of activity. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Is it because you want to talk to Cade?”

  “No.” I bit my lip. “It’s because I hate these pageants and I’ve been too scared to tell you.” I closed my eyes, afraid to see her reaction.

  “Tia,” she said softly, taking my hand. I braved a glance up at her, and she shook her head sadly. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? The pageants aren’t that important to me.”

  I gave her a look. “Mom, pageants are your life. You named me Tiara, for crying out loud.”

  She took my chin in her hands, lowering her face until her eyes were level with mine. “Sweetheart, pageants are only a part of my life.” She smiled, holding my gaze. “You are my crowning jewel, worth more to me than all the prizes and trophies combined.”

  Moisture blurred my vision, and the lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. “Really?” I choked.

  She nodded slowly. “Really.” She leaned forward and gripped me in a tight hug. “I’ve only kept this up because I thought you enjoyed it. I’m not doing it for me. I’ve had my pageant days, and while it was a fun experience, I’m happy to have that season behind me. I liked this because it was something we could do together.” She pulled back. “But now we can find something else to do together. Something you actually like.”

  I laughed, feeling a thousand pounds lighter as she brushed a tear from my cheek.

  There was a five-minute warning until curtains, and the flurry in the dressing room rose several decibels.

  I looked at Mom. “It’s not too late. You’ve put a lot of time and money into this. I’m happy to still go out there if you want me to.”

  She held my gaze. “Nope. It just so happens that I have another idea.” She pulled a small flyer from her purse. I recognized it as one of the flyers for the art fair. “Cade dropped this off with the flowers, hinting that we might want to swing by and see how your art did in the contest. I wasn’t sure if we’d have time with the pageant—” She smiled. “—but now it looks like we’ll have plenty of time. What do you say we go see your entries?”

  My heart lifted and I threw my arms around her. “Thanks so much. I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart.” She squeezed me back and then turned to Jillian, who looked like she might self-combust as she clutched her makeup bag. Mom smiled at her. “Don’t stress. Tia’s not entering the pageant tonight, so I think we’re all done here.”

  “Actually,” I chimed in, “would you mind just finishing up? I like where you were going with the eye shadow and want to look my best for the art show.”

  Mom turned to me with her mouth open. “Are you saying that you’re not averse to makeup anymore?”

  I shrugged. “I have to admit, I’m kind of getting used to it. And this new makeup line Jillian found feels so natural, I can barely tell I have it on.”

  Mom gave Jillian a high five. “You’re a miracle worker.”

  She laughed, stepping to my chair to finish applying my makeup. “I don’t know about that, but I am a firm believer in miracles.”

  I took a deep breath, hoping she was right. Because a miracle was exactly what I needed when it came time to talk to Cade.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mom texted Dad, who was waiting in the audience, telling him to meet us in the parking lot for a surprise. After we explained the situation to him, he showed full support, and the three of us piled into his car to drive to the academy.

  I twisted my hands in my lap, nervous about showing up at the art fair. What if I didn’t earn any awards? What if Mom and Dad played off my artwork like they always did? There were too many “what ifs” in my head—not the least of which a certain “what if” that kept circling back to Cade. I itched to talk to him, but Mom was right. It would be better to have that conversation in person.

  We arrived at the academy and parked near the arts building. My gut twisted in knots at the large crowd walking toward the building. RLA did have an outstanding art program, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. But the fact that my own art would be on display made me more self-conscious than usual.

  I linked my arms through Mom’s and Dad’s, feeling safe and supported between them as they asked me questions about school and what kinds of art I liked best. An hour ago I’d been dreading competing in another pageant, and now here I was with my parents, talking about something I was passionate about. It was like I’d stepped into some kind of alternate reality, and I wasn’t hating it.

  We entered the building, which was like a piece of art in and of itself, with curved walls equipped with special lighting to display each art piece.

  “Tia!” Lacey called, pulling on Oliver’s hand as she hurried over to me, her eyes wide as she looked between me and my parents. “You came?! This is so, so perfect.” She dropped Oliver’s hand to give me a hug.

  I laughed, almost falling backwards. “Yes, we came. I told Mom I didn’t want to do any more pageants, and she and Dad came to support me tonight.”

  She pulled back, her face turning serious. “I’m glad you did. This will be so much better for you to see in person than in a picture.” She looked at my parents. “You guys are going to be so proud. Come see.”

  I gave my parents a questioning look as we followed Lacey and Oliver around the curved wall to an open area. A large easel stood in the center of the room—with my canvas painting on it. A giant blue ribbon hung on the side.

  “You took first place!” Lacey exclaimed, hopping up and down.

  I gaped, immobile with disbelief.

  “Oh, honey!” Mom said, hugging me around the shoulders.

  “Way to go, Tia,” Dad added, patting my shoulder.

  A woman standing nearby turned to me. “You’re the Tia Radcliffe who painted this?”

  I nodded, still too stunned to speak.

  “I was hoping to meet you. I’m Gretchen Bowman.” She stepped forward, handing me a card. “After seeing all of your pieces, I spoke with your art teacher. I hope you’ll give some thought to contacting us when it comes time to choose which university you’d like to attend. I’ve put my direct line on this card and am eager to speak with you about our programs.”

  I glanced at the card. It was for UCLA. Gretchen Bowman was listed as the Dean of Arts. I looked at her again. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  After s
he left, Mom nudged my arm. “Wow, Tia. What a compliment.”

  “Which university is she from?” Dad asked.

  “I don’t know if it’s one I’ll apply to,” I said, pocketing the card. It wasn’t a tech school, so it didn’t matter.

  Dad looked thoughtful for a moment but didn’t press me. More students and their parents congratulated me, and I discovered that of the four pieces of art I’d submitted, three of them had earned blue ribbons. I rebounded between shock and joy. It was completely surreal.

  We stood admiring Oliver’s bird carving, which had taken an honorable mention award, when Mr. Watts approached. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe,” he said. “I’m Jerry Watts, Tia’s art teacher.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Dad shook his hand and then nodded around the room. “This is quite an impressive display.”

  Mr. Watts smiled. “Thank you. The students have worked hard this year, but I have to tell you, in all my years of teaching, I haven’t encountered the kind of raw talent that your daughter has.”

  Mom beamed, putting her arm around my shoulder. “She really does. Three blue ribbons! We’re very proud.”

  I blushed, feeling a little awkward with all of the praise—of course Mom would notice the awards. As much as she’d downplayed her love of pageants, I saw the way she lit up whenever I’d received a trophy or tiara. I loved that this time I’d won awards for something I was passionate about.

  “As you should be,” Mr. Watts agreed. “I’m so glad you could be here tonight to see what Tia’s achieved.” He smiled at me before turning back to them. “I spoke with her about her plans for college after she graduates next year, and I was surprised to learn that she’s not pursuing a degree in art.”

  Uh-oh. My heart slammed to a stop as I waited for my parents’ reactions.

  Dad folded his arms, shifting into his executive stance. “We’re hoping that Tia will be able to take over the family business someday.”

  “That’s what she told me.” Mr. Watts nodded slowly. “A tech corporation, isn’t it? And quite a successful one too, according to Tia. That’s an admirable career.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I certainly don’t want to put my nose where it doesn’t belong. But I can’t emphasize enough how impressed I am with Tia’s work. A few university scouts have reached out to me, asking about her. The kind of work she produces can’t be taught … it comes from within.” He motioned to his chest. “Anyway, thanks for coming tonight. I hope you’ll keep encouraging Tia to follow her passion.” He winked at me and gave my parents a hopeful smile before walking toward another group.

  I exhaled, ready to smooth over the ripple effect from the conversation. “Mr. Watts is really great,” I said. “He was highly sought after, and we’re lucky to have him. Some of his art is even on display in the Crystal Bridges Museum.”

  “Really? How nice that you get such an experienced teacher to mentor you,” Mom said.

  Dad only nodded; his brows furrowed in thought.

  We finished walking around the rest of the art show, and then Mom and Dad helped me carry my artwork to the car. Mom wanted to display it in the house, which was more rewarding to me than any of the blue ribbons.

  After we’d carefully loaded the painting and sketches, Dad turned to me. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet for the past little while. “Tia … I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay. About what?” I asked.

  Mom raised a curious eyebrow as we both waited for him to continue.

  He cleared his throat. “Hearing your confession about the beauty pageants, and then seeing your art and talking with your teacher tonight has made me question—is taking over the business something you really want to do?”

  I sucked in a breath, pausing long enough that all that could be heard were crickets as my parents stared, waiting for my answer. After several beats, I blew the breath out. “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  Dad’s forehead creased, but he nodded. “You know what? That’s okay.” He put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed.

  I blinked, unable to process what he’d just said. My whole life I’d been preparing for this, expecting to take over the company someday. It was an inevitable eventuality that was simply “my future.” All I’d wanted was to make my parents proud, so I’d lived the life I thought they wanted for me—and now, in literally one day, all of it was changing.

  I put my head on Dad’s shoulder, feeling like a little girl again. “Really?” I asked, still not certain I’d heard him right.

  He nodded. “I didn’t realize how much pressure I was putting on you.”

  “How much pressure we were putting on you,” Mom added, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze.

  “Coming here tonight was like getting a small window into your soul,” he continued. “And it shed some light on things I realize I’ve been neglecting. Your art teacher knew more about your talents and hopes and dreams than I do as your father—and I want to remedy that.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as warmth filled me. This was the feeling I’d been missing: the feeling of being enough, of being loved for who I was and not trying to create a fake version of myself to please my parents. For the first time since I could remember, I felt whole.

  “I love you, Daddy,” I said, leaning into him.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

  Mom hugged us both, and we stood there, the three of us together, in the parking lot. And I was too happy to care who saw us.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I went to Cade’s dorm the next morning as soon as girls were allowed in. I’d tossed and turned all night, partly because I was still pumped up from yesterday’s events, and partly because I couldn’t stop thinking about Cade. I knocked on his door as soon as I reached it. No one answered. It was Sunday morning, and the halls were still quiet since everyone liked to sleep in on the weekends. I knocked again.

  “Coming,” a sleepy voice grumbled.

  I sucked in my cheeks and then straightened, preparing to give Cade the world’s biggest apology, when Toby, his roommate, answered the door. He squinted a bleary eye at me. “What are you doing here? It’s super early.”

  I gave him an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I really need to talk to Cade.”

  “Cade’s gone.”

  My heart fell. “Gone?” I repeated.

  He nodded. “He left for a lacrosse tournament yesterday afternoon, and he won’t be back until next Saturday.”

  “Oh.” My hopes flattened. I’d forgotten about the lacrosse tournament. It looked like my apology would have to be over the phone after all.

  Toby rubbed his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about talking to him, though. I’m pretty sure he’s done with your games.”

  His words were a dagger in my chest. “He told you that?”

  He shrugged. “More or less. You really messed with him. Besides, I think he plans to ask Mindy Sampson out soon. She’s been stopping by a few times since prom.”

  “Oh.” The air escaped from my lungs and I felt too sick to say anything else, so I turned and walked away, completely numb. I was too late. Cade was over me. I’d made a stupid mistake and taken too long to reach out to him, and he was already moving on. And the worst part was, I couldn’t even blame him. He hadn’t been the heartbreaker—I had.

  I rushed out of the building, not knowing where I was going. I didn’t want to go back to my dorm to face a waiting Lacey who would want to hear the details. And I didn’t want to go to breakfast and face Mindy or Chloe so they could gloat. I wanted to go somewhere where I could process this pain without an audience.

  The gazebo.

  I walked toward the gazebo and stepped inside, looking out over the pond. Only a few days ago, in this very spot, I’d told Cade I wanted to be his girlfriend. I would never forget the way his eyes lit up, or how it felt to be held in his arms. I bit my lip, refusing to cry. I’d cried enough the past few d
ays, and although sometimes it helped to release the emotion, my tears wouldn’t solve my problems. I needed to act. Maybe it was too late, but if Cade felt even an ounce of what I still felt, it was worth a try. I pulled out my phone, unblocked his number, and sent him a text.

  Cade, I know this apology is coming late, but I wanted to say that I’m so sorry. At prom, Chloe told me that you’d only asked me out because your parents wanted to merge companies and they told you to ask me out as a way of getting in my parents’ good graces.

  I texted my mom, and when she confirmed that there might be a merger, I assumed Chloe was right. I shouldn’t have run out like that. I should have talked to you and this whole misunderstanding would have been avoided. My mom explained that the merger was my dad’s idea, so I know Chloe was lying to get to me.

  I’m sorry I listened, and I’m sorry I didn’t reply to you. I was just so hurt and scared that my worst fears were confirmed. But after knowing you like I do, I should have known better. I hope you’ll accept my apology.

  I read over the message. It was too long, but there was still more to say, so I sent it, holding my breath as I waited a few minutes for him to reply. When nothing came, I typed the rest of the message.

  I’ve been miserable without you, and I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance. I know you’re at your lacrosse tournament right now, but call or text me back if you can so we can talk this over. I paused and then added, I miss you. I sent the text.

  I paced around the gazebo, waiting for his reply. If this was what he’d felt like the other night when I wouldn’t respond, my heart went out to him all over again. It was torture not knowing where he stood. Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. My shoulders slumped and I swallowed down the lump of disappointment in my throat before pocketing my phone and heading back to my dorm.

  The hope I’d allowed myself ebbed away with each passing minute. I couldn’t dwell on the past. What was done was done. I just hoped I could learn to live with the ache in my chest that felt like a kicked bruise every time my heart beat.