The Billionaire (The Dalton Brothers 2)

Thirty-One

Joanna

The second Jenner walked away from the table, I gasped, “Dad—”

But he cut me off, holding his finger in the air, his face grim and stiff. “I need a goddamn minute, Joanna.”

Air huffed out of my lungs. My feet were desperate to sprint toward Jenner. The nerves, running rampant in my body, caused me to fidget.

What did I expect?

For my father to smile and accept the news?

For him to wrap his arm around Jenner and invite him into the family?

I didn’t know.

I couldn’t anticipate. I’d had no expectations.

But as I watched my boyfriend leave the restaurant, my father practically fuming in his seat, this wasn’t what I’d wanted at all.

I finally turned toward my father again, watching him lean back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You caught me off guard, young lady. You know I don’t like it when that happens, especially when it involves my daughter.”

Regardless, I couldn’t let Jenner take the blame for something that was my fault.

I couldn’t let another second pass without my father knowing the truth.

“Dad, before you start, I need to confess something.”

I paused as he lifted his empty glass into the air, calling over a waitress to get a refill.

I requested another glass of wine as well, and the moment she left our table, I said, “When Jenner told you he didn’t know who I was, he wasn’t lying. Every bit of that was the truth.” I gripped the sides of my seat, my fingers so slick against the leather. “I didn’t tell him, and he had absolutely no idea I was your daughter until we were in Utah, months later, when I finally came clean.”

His expression didn’t change. “What are you telling me, Joanna?”

“This whole thing is my fault. Not his.”

He was silent, blinking hard as he stared at me. “I still don’t understand.”

My fingers reached lower to the bottom of the seat, clenching the width of it, holding on. “We started talking in the sportsbook of your casino. He told me his name and that he was a lawyer in LA, and I put it together. I knew who he was, Dad, and I didn’t care. I didn’t stop it.”

“Were you ever planning on telling him?” He shook his head. “What the hell did you think was going to happen?”

I shrugged, the movement so honest. “I have no idea. But I didn’t think we would be here, months later, spending every free moment together.” My voice softened when I said, “I love him, Dad.”

He ran his hands through the little hair he had left. “Jesus Christ.”

“He wanted to tell you,” I said almost frantically. “We talked about it daily, and he urged me to set this up, so we could have this conversation with you. But I was the one avoiding it, the one who didn’t want to discuss it, who waited until now to tell you the truth.”

He eyed me. “Jenner took responsibility for this, Joanna.”

“Because my boyfriend would never throw me under the bus.”

My mouth closed as the waitress returned, our drinks in her hand. Several runners were behind her, delivering the appetizers Jenner had ordered.

Two salads.

Calamari.

Beef carpaccio.

Food I was most definitely not going to touch, my stomach revolting at the mere sight of it.

Time ticked by once we were alone.

Our forks stayed on the table.

Our hands didn’t even move.

“Does he treat you well?”

I filled my lungs, my chest quivering from the air.

Tears sprouted without any effort. They were just there, burning.

“Better than I can even describe.” I glanced toward the front of the restaurant, hoping Jenner was standing by the entrance. But he wasn’t. I could feel in my gut that he was long gone. “When I told you I’ve never been happier, I meant it.”

He watched his hand flatten on the table, fingers spread, and then his gaze gradually lifted to me. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to be okay with our relationship.” My arms circled around my stomach. “I want you to trust Jenner. That man is so ridiculously loyal to you; it’s not funny. I want you to accept that this isn’t his fault; it’s mine.” I leaned on the table, needing to get closer to him. “And you know what? I wouldn’t change what I did, and I’ve said the same thing to Jenner. Because if I had told him who I was and that I was your daughter, he never would have given me the time of day.” I swallowed, trying to breathe, trying to imagine what life would be like without him. “And I never would have known what it feels like to be loved by him.”

His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. “I’m not happy.”

“That’s fine, Dad. You don’t have to be happy. You can be angry and upset. You can be disappointed. I deserve all those things. But don’t take this out on him. Jenner doesn’t deserve that.”

Just as my voice faded, our waitress returned to our table and said, “Are you ready to order your meals?” She noticed our untouched plates. “Or do you need a little more time?”

Without looking at me, my father replied, “I don’t think we’ll be eating. In fact, why don’t you box up all this food”—he nodded toward me—“so she can take it home?”

He reached into his pocket and removed his wallet and handed her his credit card. She took it and disappeared.