Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

Oh my God. I love Edgar even if he doesn’t reciprocate the emotion. And I feel like the most unlovable and stupid woman in the world to have fallen for a man who will never love me back.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Edgar

Instinct and habit are scary things. Instead of wondering where I should go, once I relinquished

the penthouse to Jo, my lizard brain must’ve taken control, because I find myself in front of Tony’s mansion.

I sit in my car. Stare at the warm light glowing through windows. Wonder if Tony’s happy. He must be. He’s with Ivy, and they’re going to have babies. And she doesn’t look at him the way Jo looked at me.

Fuck.

I wish I could turn back time. I wish I’d never said what I said to Dad. I wish I’d never picked up his call in the first place.

I wish I’d resigned earlier and cut all ties with the goddamn family legacy.

All my money. All my influence. All my control. They should’ve been enough to put me in charge of my life.

But instead, what I have is a mess I can’t seem to figure out how to fix.

What a shit show.

What’s Jo doing now? She must be furious. Is she crying? Screaming? Does she have somebody who can be with her? Make her feel better? She shouldn’t be alone when she’s upset, but who is there to contact…?

Hugo? He’ll try to rip my balls off first, but he’s a good guy. He’ll have his cousin’s back, even while telling her I’m a bastard who doesn’t deserve her. I’d prefer not to expose Jo to an “Edgar is unworthy” diatribe, but it’s better than her being alone.

I pull out my phone, then pause. There’s a text from Yuna earlier that I miss—

Yuna! She won’t try to rip my balls off. And she knows all the details of the Blackwood family scandal. She can be Jo’s ally, but also perhaps convince Jo that I’m not a total bastard. That I deserve a second chance. Even if it comes with lots of conditions, exclusions and other fine print.

My mind made up, I call her.

“Hey, Edgar,” she says cheerily. I hear a piano in the background.

“Hi, Yuna. Are you with Ivy?” I didn’t consider the possibility she might be in the mansion right in front of me.

“Yeah. We’re playing some Schumann together. Why? Wanna bring your woman over to hear us? We won’t charge you.” There’s laughter in her voice because she doesn’t know how badly I messed everything up.

Yuna loves spending time with Ivy, and I feel guilty about interrupting her evening. But not guilty enough to make me stop.

“I’m actually at Tony’s front door. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Taking a deep breath, I get out of the car, walk over to the mansion and head inside to the room where Ivy’s Bösendorfer Imperial is. Tony had it made specially for her, the side embossed with a tiger lily, which is her favorite flower.

Tony’s sitting on a couch with a bottle of water, watching Ivy and Yuna with a small smile. They’re sharing the bench in front of the piano. It’s longer than normal, but that’s by design. Tony and Ivy play Schubert’s Fantasie for Four Hands together often, and he refuses to get a separate bench for himself.

“Hey,” Tony says, but the smile on his face slips when he sees my expression.

“Are you okay?” Ivy asks, rising from the piano.

“Where’s Jo?” Yuna asks, without giving me a chance to answer Tony or Ivy.

“No, it’s…” I start to respond to Ivy, then stop because it’s not something “fine” or “no” can answer. “Yuna, would you mind going over and spending the night with Jo?” I ask.

She frowns, coming around the piano. “How come? Do you need to be out of town?”

I want to lie and say yes because the truth is…awful. But I’m not in the habit of lying, especially not to my friends and family. Their concerned gazes seem to bore into me. My sense of failure triples.