Mr. Mitchell: Billionaires’ Club Book 2 (Billionaires’ Club Series)

The stay at Thornbury had me over the top with its Tudor Dynasty histories, and I was obsessed more than ever with King Henry and Anne Boleyn. I didn’t care, though. I was having a blast. Jim and I traveled through the countryside on our way back, laughing and teasing each other, and it seemed that we’d easily fallen into some exciting—should I even curse myself with the word?—relationship.

As hard as I was pushing back the stirring feelings that I had been slowly developing, part of me wanted to think I didn’t have to. Why the hell couldn’t I have my cake and eat it too? I deserved someone good in my life, and I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling what was happening between us. Jim felt the same. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch and kiss. It wasn’t just me, conjuring some wishful dream to come true, right? Was I fooling myself? Was this too much too fast?

I woke up at five, and all of these thoughts were on a loop in my head. I needed to get out and take a nice, long run. That would help me get my head straight. I wasn’t surprised Jim wasn’t in bed. It was about an hour ago that a text came through, and he’d had to wake up and deal with it, so I got up and put on my running clothes and shoes before I ran downstairs to let him know I was heading out.

“I already told you that it’s none of your fucking business,” I heard Jim say from inside his office. “Can we get off the girl I’m with and back on topic? I sent my corrections after going through the issues.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just saying that you sound like you’re breaking all your Jimmy doesn’t commit rules,” I heard the man tease him.

I stood frozen in the corridor outside his office door. Something told me that I wasn’t going to like what Jim had to say to whoever was on speakerphone. I wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, and I really had no idea why I was starting now, but here I was.

“I’m not breaking shit,” Jim said, his voice seemingly arrogant and unashamed. “Fuck it. Maybe I have, but—”

“But?” the man laughed. “Did Jimmy finally have oral sex? Have we made it to second—wait, is it third base?”

“Fuck you, Jacob,” he said.

“Is that any way to talk to your brother after everything I’ve been doing to help Collin with your demands for this film?”

“Listen, there is no oral—there is no commitment.”

“Henry the Eighth?”

“Glad that made it to your highlights for the night.”

“Imagine my surprise to find out you’re taking time off at all, man? Then I find out you have some chick at Adelaile, and you’re researching England’s monarchy? I had no idea what the fuck to believe. A body snatcher could’ve gotten to you for all I know.”

“It’s nothing. It’s a fucking fling,” Jim snapped. “Once I get back to the states, I’ll handle all the shit I let slip through the cracks while I enjoyed a little time off.”

“It’s okay to fucking let yourself go. I’m glad for you. My big brother is always taking care of everyone except himself.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s what I’m doing here too,” Jim said. “Because it’s sure as hell not like me to shut it off and do these sorts of things. You guys are always telling me I’m picking up charity cases.”

“You ever stop to think we’re just giving your sorry ass a hard time?”

“Jacob,” he said to who I understood was his brother, “there is no relationship, there is no commitment. It’s a nice week with a hot chick I met on the plane. She’s got her own shit to work out, trust me. And fuck you for nosing into my sex life and bringing up oral-fucking-sex in the first place. I don’t do that shit unless I’m in a relationship I know will last.”

I covered my mouth and turned to run up the steps quietly. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My heart and stomach sank. Why? Fucking why? I’d never felt more naive in all my life. Here I was, minutes ago, trying to convince myself that this man felt the same way I did. I tried to justify play-acting as though we were a couple, and we shared the same feelings. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It was a slap across the face and a harsh reminder that I wasn’t the type of girl who got a happy ending.

“Avery,” I heard Jim call as soon as I reached the top step. “You’re awake?”

“I’m wide awake now,” I said as I spun around, furious at him but angrier at myself for letting my emotions getting the best of me.

“Looks like you’re heading out for a run. I’ll join you.”

“You know what?” I started as calmly as my temper would allow. “I’m going to be honest with you and get this all out. I heard you speaking to your brother just now.”

“Shit.” I watched the man run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, Mr. I don’t fear shit looked a bit scared. “Avery, half of that shit—”

“Save it,” I said, holding up my hand. I couldn’t listen to any possible excuse that would make what he said okay. “You were dead-on. I was the dumbass single mom who let myself get caught up in a fantasy. We both know this isn’t real. I knew that, and I was too swept away to notice the fucking red flags you were throwing up for me. Oral-fucking-sex.” I laughed and shook my head. “Of course, that’s why you weren’t into that shit. You assume it’s too intimate.”

“Avery, it’s not like that.”

“Really?” I cocked my head to the side. “Then what’s it like, Jim?”

“I just. Fuck. I do really like you.”

“I like you too, Jim, but it’s best to end this now before things do go in a direction where you’re in some fucked-up position to feel like you need to commit to me. I’ve got a little girl depending on me to make better decisions in my life than going off alone with some goddamn stranger and fucking him all over his house. Games are done, and I need to get the hell out of here. I appreciate everything. You did give me memories to bring home from my trip to London.” Oh, shit. I felt tears bubbling up. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

“You don’t need to leave,” he said, his voice low. “Shit. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m just confused.”

I smiled, feeling tears of sadness for me and, strangely, for him too. “There’s nothing to be confused about. I need to go, and you obviously need to start being more present with your job. I’ll send for a driver and be out today.”

“My driver will take you.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said, more bitterly than I should have. “I don’t need anyone’s fucking help. I’ll find my way out of here on my own. I’ve crawled out of a lot of worse places than a beautiful museum in England’s countryside.”

“Please, drivers can be—”

“I said I’d handle it.” His phone rang. “You should get that. Thank you.” The tears were at bay, and thank God they never surfaced. “I mean that. You helped me shut out the noise for long enough. I needed the distraction.”

“I feel the same about you.”

“Then we each helped each other. We each know that even if somehow, in a perfect world, we wanted this to work, it’s like you said at that castle—we aren’t married, and we aren’t on our honeymoon. I think that’s the most confusing part. We pretended too much, don’t you think? We acted like all of this was more than what it was.”

“And what was that?” Jim’s darker voice surfaced. “What was it, Avery?”

“It was a façade that we both played into. It was fun. It was a distraction. That’s all it fucking was.”

“It was more than that.”

“No, Jim,” I said. “It wasn’t. I heard enough of your conversation to know that.”

“You also didn’t hear the entire phone call, Avery.”

“Did I need to? Was there more evidence of reasoning as to why you can’t commit to the chick you met on a plane who has issues to figure out?”

“Fuck me.”

“Already did that,” I said and turned to pack it up, pull it together, and get the fuck out.