The Player + The Pact = I Do (New York City Billionaires #2)

Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

Jules

I hold the door to Leo’s apartment open so Sophia can follow me in, then I drop the keys on the side table. I don’t need those anymore. I can’t wait to get moved out and move on with my life. Leo was a diversion. I need to reframe and refocus. I need to get back to celibacy and the career ladder.

When I arrived back at my apartment last night, I didn’t need to tell Sophia that it was serious. My puffy eyes and rumpled tissue did the talking for me. I told her about my dad and she didn’t say I told you so or what did you expect . She just gave me a hug and a glass of wine and let me cry through back-to-back episodes of Bridgerton .

It wasn’t until episode three that I managed to tell her I was moving back in permanently this weekend. I didn’t need a conversation with Leo before I moved out. What would be the point? What could we possibly say to each other? We’re over. I thought I liked him, and maybe I did, but what’s the point of dating? At some point it will end. Better to stop before we really start, before he can rip my heart out.

“You still haven’t told me what exactly happened with you and Leo. It seems… quick to be calling off an engagement and moving out.”

I swallow past an unexpected lump in my throat. “It was just a whirlwind. It came to its natural end.” She doesn’t have to know there was no real beginning.

I turn into my bedroom. Everything is exactly where I left it when I walked out two minutes after my dad hung up on me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head as I pull out one of my suitcases from the closet. The sooner I’m packed up, the better.

“Did it get violent?” she asks quietly.

I gasp and spin around. “God, no. Why would you think that?”

She shrugs. “It’s all so sudden. Why aren’t you trying to work through it?”

I toss a box from under my dressing table onto my bed and start filling it with the contents of my nightstand. “Because the obstacles are insurmountable.”

“Okay,” she says, stooping to pick up my hairbrush and drop it into the box. “What kind of obstacles?”

“Big ones,” I say vaguely. “I’m going to pack up the bathroom.”

I find my toiletry bag and clear the shower shelf of my shampoos and conditioners. Jeez, this shower had good pressure. I’ll miss it.

“Big ones?” Sophia appears in the doorway, her hand on her waist like she’s not picking up what I’m putting down.

“Like he’s afraid of commitment. ”

She bursts out laughing. “You two were engaged out of nowhere!”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not afraid of trusting people, letting people in. That’s what I mean by commitment,” I say.

“Is this mixed up with your dad?”

“No,” I snap. “Why would it be?”

“It’s just weird that your dad comes back into your life and suddenly you’re not engaged, you’re moving out of your fiancé’s apartment. It seems like the two things are connected.”

“Well, they’re not,” I reply. Okay, maybe they’re connected a little bit—but not how Sophia thinks. Dad leaving again simply made me realize what my priorities were, and who I can and can’t rely on. Did I think there was a chance we could finally have some kind of healthy relationship? Sure. Was I wrong about that? I was. But sometimes, being wrong about one thing just helps you see everything else with more clarity.

“So, you’re just walking away?” she asks. “You liked him enough to agree to marry him, but the relationship isn’t worth trying to save?”

I put what’s left of my toiletries into a box and head back into the bedroom, all the while thinking of a way to respond to Sophia that isn’t a lie, but isn’t the truth either.

I collapse on the bed, tears pricking my eyes. I won’t let them fall. This situation has gotten so complicated. I’m lying to my best friend and I might be in love with a man I hated a few weeks ago.

Sophia sits down beside me. “Tell me what’s going on,” she says, picking up my hand.

I lay my head on her shoulder. I know Leo doesn’t want me to tell anyone, but I trust Sophia like he trusts his best friends. She’d help me bury a body. She’d certainly tell a few lies for me.

“I’m not sure you’ll believe me if I tell you,” I say.

“Try me.”

I sigh and then tell her the entire story of our fake engagement and the reasons Leo wanted a temporary fiancée. “The awards ceremony was Thursday night,” I conclude. “So our time is up.”

“Hold on,” she says. “I thought you two hooked up.”

“We did,” I say.

“So that changes things. It’s not fake. You’re moving out, but are you going to continue to see each other?” she asks.

I shake my head. “We were supposed to talk last night and then?—”

“And then your dad did a runner just like he used to when you were a kid.”

“I couldn’t face Leo after that. I didn’t want to talk about anything last night.”

“Did he call? Did you tell him what happened with your dad?”

I shake my head. “I texted him I had to go back to Jersey and deal with some stuff.”

“So Dad wasn’t the only one to bail,” she mumbles.

“What?” My voice comes out like a distressed kitten’s mewl. “You’re saying I’m like my dad?”

“Not exactly. But aren’t you bailing before things get complicated—or more complicated—with Leo? It’s not not what your dad did…”

“Dad wasn’t avoiding a hard conversation with me. If he was, he wouldn’t have turned up and asked for a job out of nowhere.”

“He is the master at deflection and avoidance,” Sophia says. “You need to talk to Leo. You can’t run from your feelings, Jules.”

I hate the thought that I could be like my dad. He causes so much hurt and pain in what he leaves behind. I don’t want to hurt Leo. It’s the last thing I want to do. But I can’t cope with being hurt either. Not by Leo. I think it would break me. Better to run while I’m still able.

“What’s the point in talking about anything? It’s not like the guy is going to marry me for real. I’d rather walk away now. We were only ever temporary.”

“Things have changed,” she challenges. “Maybe he is going to marry you. At the very least he deserves a conversation.”

I know she’s right. I know I should talk to him, but I don’t have anything left for more emotional upheaval. “Things haven’t changed,” I say.

“Things always change when sex is involved.”

“Not for Leo,” I say. “He’s been burned before, and it’s made him the way he is. People don’t change.” I sigh. “I’m not going to be the pathetic woman who convinces herself she can teach an old dog new tricks.” I’ve made the mistake of having hope—of thinking things could be different with my dad. I’m not going to make the same mistake with Leo. “I’m not going to try and fix anyone. I’m not going to hope anyone fixes themselves. I’m done. Can we just get me packed up?” I feel drained from the last twenty-four hours. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

“We can. But I’m going to bring this up again. I want you to be happy.”

“I want me to be happy too. But wanting something doesn’t make it reality.”

She closes the cardboard box and lifts it off my bed. “Admitting you want something, someone? It’s the first step, Jules. I can see how that would be hard for you, after the way your dad constantly raised and dashed your hopes when you were little. You’ve trained yourself not to want anything from anyone. But I’m not sure that leaves room for much happiness.”

The front door of the apartment slams. Leo.

“I’m going to take these boxes downstairs,” she says. “Talk to him.”

I groan. I really am too tightly wound to see him now. I don’t trust myself to keep it together.

I work quickly, stuffing clothes and papers from work into boxes. I’m going to regret my bad packing, but I need to get out of here as soon as possible.

I stack the boxes by my bedroom door and check the time. Sophia has been gone for about twenty minutes. What the hell is she doing down there? Of course, she’s giving me time to speak to Leo.

I pull my hair out of its ponytail and take a deep, steadying breath. Time to face the music.

I open my bedroom door to the sight of Leo leaning against the wall opposite.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound light. Breezy.

“Hey,” he replies, scratching the back of his head. His faded blue t-shirt lifts an inch, revealing that hard, flat stomach I know so well. “You need a hand with anything?”

I shouldn’t feel upset. It’s not like we were ever going to be a thing.

“No, Sophia and I have it.” I transfer my weight from one foot to the other, trying to think of something to say.

“Let me help,” he says.

It feels almost worse to have him moving me out. Like he can’t wait to get rid of me.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d rather do it myself. ”

He shrugs. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I say.

He narrows his eyes likes he knows I’m trying to communicate something but he’s not sure what. Me neither, honestly.

“I thought we were going to talk. Have sushi.”

I nod. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to… get back to Jersey.”

His eyes narrow, like he expects me to elaborate, but what can I say? Sophia’s right, I’m running. But I don’t know what else to do.

“So do you want to get dinner tonight?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye.

“I think it’s best to keep things… to go back to being what we were before,” I say. My stomach churns as I speak. It takes everything in me not to take two steps forward and collapse in his arms.

“So, that’s it? Destiny is at a standstill?”

It’s the first time he’s referenced that first night we met since he found out I was Mystique.

“Destiny?” I ask him. “New Yorkers don’t believe in stuff like that.” I fight to keep my voice steady.

“Well, I’m technically from the UK and you’re from Jersey. So…”

I have to look away from him. He looks so hurt. Like he wants me to tell him we can try and make things work. But I can’t open myself up to him when I know at some point things will shift and he’ll leave. I can’t let that happen to me again. I’m too bruised and broken from a lifetime of people leaving.

He sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, it’s been a blast,” he says .

I nod. I can’t speak, because my nose is starting to fizz and my stomach feels like it’s turning inside out.

“You’re the best fake fiancée a guy could ever wish for.”

The problem is, it got too real for me.

There’s no solution to the sense of loss I’m feeling right now. Accepting his dinner invitation would only prolong the inevitable.

“Glad I could help.”

Our eyes lock, like we both want to tell each other we’re feeling conflicted. I offer him a small smile that I hope says I’m sorry .

“I’ve really enjoyed having you here,” he says, oddly formal all of a sudden.

“I’ve enjoyed being here. More than I thought I would.”

“Really?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching.

My stomach flips at the hint of flirtation in his voice. “Well, the kitchen alone makes it worthwhile.”

He nods and runs a hand through his hair. “Right.”

“And the view.” I lift my chin at the wall of windows overlooking Manhattan, but don’t actually take my eyes from Leo.

“The view. Of course.”

Silence twists between us. I so badly want to stay. But I know I can’t.

“I better go and help Sophia,” I say.

He stands and pushes his hands into his pockets. “We’ll have to catch up about The Mayfair at some point.”

“But I still have a three-month trial, right?”

“Right,” he replies. “Though I’m sure you have a plan to present for the roof terrace development?”

“Oh, yes. Right. Yeah, I’ll follow up with your new assistant and put something in the calendar in a couple weeks. ”

“Good,” he says. “Well, if you don’t need my help, I’m going to head to the gym.”

I flex my biceps like a complete freak. “Go get ’em,” I say and turn, shaking my head at myself and all my awkward.

I disappear into the bedroom, blinking back tears. I fill another box and a couple of bags and head to the elevators. I just want to disappear. From Leo’s apartment. From New York. From being my dad’s daughter, and all that it entails.