The Making of Jonty Bloom Read online

  The Making of Jonty Bloom

  An Unfinished Business novel

  Barbara Elsborg

  COPYRIGHT

  The Making of Jonty Bloom is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, some places and all incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Barbara Elsborg

  Cover design by B4Jay – who, as usual, has done a fabulous job!

  Edited by Deco

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or transmitted in any manner without written permission from Barbara Elsborg, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For all enquiries please contact Barbara Elsborg at [email protected]

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank my invaluable beta readers for their thoughts and comments—positive and negative! This book was ten thousand words shorter before I had their input so blame them if you think it’s too long!

  Thanks – in no particular order – to Rita, Katerina, Jo, Suki, Angela, Angelika and Ali.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Making of Jonty Bloom

  FINDING HIS FIANCÉ IN BED with his brother was bad enough, finding out they’re getting married is the final blow.

  Devan Smith needs to cool his anger. He needs to forget the lies and betrayals and work on resetting his life. When his boss orders him to scope out a remote hotel for a possible buyout, Devan’s only interested in getting the job done and getting out. What he’s not interested in is the guy with the piercings, bleached hair, and the smart, kissable mouth behind the reception desk.

  Working the hotel reception is the only thing that’s stable in Jonty Bloom’s unstable life. His best friend has had a terrible accident, his ex refuses to move on, and his eight-year-old self is still waiting for his mother to collect him from school. Jonty needs his job. What he doesn’t need is the rude, arrogant, and hot as they come guy who’s rocked up demanding he be let into his room right now.

  Thrown together by a freak accident, Devan and Jonty’s lives entwine, and neither wants to loosen the knot. Can the irrepressible Jonty be the reset Devan needs? Can Devan be the making of Jonty Bloom, or will secrets drive them apart?

  Chapter One

  IF DEVAN HADN’T KNOWN THE reason why his throat felt as if he’d had a ball of barbed wire stuck in it for the past twenty-four hours, he might have been tempted to see a doctor. But he did know, and no doctor could help him. Not even a shrink. All the rage he’d felt five months ago had come hurtling back as if it had never left. Thought you were okay, sucker? No, you weren’t.

  The last thing he’d wanted to do this morning was come to work, but if he hadn’t, it would be showing how hurt he was and he’d been determined that wasn’t going to happen. Sadly, he’d already revealed the mood he was in. Not having his coffee on his desk at precisely the moment he’d expected it, had caused him to snap at Nate, his assistant, in front of the whole office. When Nate returned with his drink, he’d put it down and left without saying a word.

  Devan should have apologised. There was probably a perfectly good reason why Nate hadn’t had his coffee on his desk when he’d wanted it, except how hard could it fucking be? While he was still simmering, it was better to keep quiet, stay in his office and bury himself in work. But he was distracted, the screen blurring as he stared at it, and the turmoil boiling in his head made pain flare between his eyes.

  Five months ago, he’d concealed his emotions under a mask of indifference, not caring if people saw through it or not. Or so he’d told himself. Ravi would no longer be in his life. Devan had to accept it. Get over it. And he fucking had! Five months was plenty long enough to get over the cheating, bastard arsehole of a… But the news Devan had been given yesterday had shaken him, wrecked what he now realised was a fragile equilibrium. The sense of betrayal had caused a physical pain in his chest, as if he’d been struck in the heart by an arrow.

  His mobile vibrated. When he saw who was calling, he put it down again. He had no wish to speak to his mother. He didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t want her logic. He just wanted not to feel anymore. He was awash with emotions, none of them good. How long was this unswallowable lump of anger going to last? Until the wedding? The end of the year? The rest of his fucking life? Rage festered in his gut, ate into his heart, and was doing a sterling job of poisoning his soul.

  His mother called again and he walked away from his phone. He needed to take a leak.

  “Sorry, Nate,” he muttered as he stalked past.

  As he headed through the open plan office where most employees worked, including his brother, conversations stalled. Was it his imagination that people were avoiding looking at him? Devan tried not to glance at where his brother usually sat, but he couldn’t stop his head turning that way. No Griff, and Devan was both infuriated and relieved.

  But on his way back to his desk, he saw Griff step out of Alan’s office and heard Alan say, “Congratulations.”

  As if that word wasn’t bad enough, Devan had managed to convince himself that Griff wouldn’t be in today and now the sight of his brother caused him to falter.

  “Devan, can I talk to you?” Griff asked.

  “No.” Devan strode past him, then past Nate, mouthing No to his assistant.

  He closed the door of his office and leaned back against it. This was not the way to behave. Appearing as if he didn’t care was the way to behave. It was what he’d done for the last five months. Admittedly, there’d been a few cracks that he’d quickly covered over, because sometimes he’d catch a random comment, or see an image on the TV, or take a call from a friend and find himself listening to words he didn’t want to hear, any of which were enough to send fury roaring back at hurricane-force. His anger had always faded, though he was aware it had never fully disappeared.

  “He’s busy,” Nate said from behind the door.

  “He’ll see me.” Griff’s voice.

  You really think I want to see you, you fucking dickhead?

  “He asked not to be disturbed. Please don’t.”

  Devan had seconds to pull himself together. Griff would walk in over Nate’s prone body. Knowing his brother, he’d probably step on him and Nate would be the one who’d apologise. Devan dropped down at his desk and stared at his computer. He didn’t even lift his head when the door opened.

  “What do you want? Nate told you I’m busy.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Nate rushed to his desk and tried to block Griff.

  Nate stood no chance, especially not against a guy with a forearm crutch and the world on his side.

  “It’s okay, Nate. Thanks for trying, but my brother always does what he wants.” Takes what he likes. Doesn’t give a fuck. Sucks up all the sympathy.

  Nate managed a small smile and Devan hoped his assistant had forgiven him for coffee-gate. Then the door was closed and Devan faced his brother.

  Griff dropped awkwardly into a chair. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  Don’t react. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Don’t say more than that.

  “I know it must be hard.”

  Devan said nothing.

  “I wanted to tell you, but I thought it would be better coming from Mum and Dad.”

  “I assume you were too chickenshit to tell me yourself?”

  “Yeah.” Griff shrugged and flashed his lopsided grin.

  Bastard. It was not winsome and cute, it was fucking annoying. What was there to smile about?

  “It just…happened,” Griff said.

  When? How? Why? Devan dug his nails into his thighs to keep himself focused, but his mouth still opened when he really didn’t want it to.

  “I hope you’ll be very happy together.” I hope your teeth rot and your hair falls out. Both of you. At the very least. He sagged. He couldn’t even come up with imaginative torments.

  “Devan, I know this is difficult.”

  You think? “No, it’s fine. It’s life. One of those things.” No, it fucking isn’t. You betrayed me. “I assume everyone in the office knows?”

  “I was excited. It’s the best…”

  “Right.” His brother couldn’t keep his mouth shut or his cock in his trousers.

  “Willyoubemybestman?” Griff blurted.

  Devan was aware that his jaw had dropped. He looked down, actually expecting to see it on the floor. It took a moment before he could risk speaking. “Five months ago, I found the guy I was due to marry the following day, lying on our bed with another guy’s cock buried in his arse.
Bad enough as that was, the other guy was not only my best man, but my brother. It was a bit of a shock.” Understatement of the century.

  “One of your best men.”

  For fuck’s sake! “I learned yesterday that it was not a one off as I was led to believe, but the pair of you have been in a relationship since then and that I appear to be the only one in the family who didn’t fucking know. I’m not feeling very brotherly towards you. So no, I’m not going to be your best man.” I’m not going to your fucking wedding, no matter how much you or our mother begs.

  “Please, Devan. I know it’s a terrible thing to ask you to do, but I don’t want anyone else to do it. You’ve always been there for me, the guy I’ve relied on my whole life. I want you to still be there for me. Please. Forgive me. Forgive Ravi.”

  It was then that Devan registered his brother had no idea how much he’d hurt him. Realisation of Griff’s…naiveté—stupidity—insensitivity…there was a bloody long list, flattened his anger. A terrible thing to ask me? He had no idea how terrible. And forgiveness? That wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’m not going to be your best man,” he said quietly, aware the office grapevine was likely already in operation. “It’s one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had.” Top of that list was fucking my fiancé.

  “As bad as trying to make a zipline from my bedroom to the garage?”

  That’s not going to work, dragging up our childhood.

  “I ended up with a broken arm.” Griff chuckled.

  And because Griff could do no wrong, Devan got the blame. Had Griff remembered that? But you’ve broken my fucking heart. The breath caught in his throat alongside that ball of anger.

  “Please,” Griffin whispered.

  “No.” Devan picked up a random folder. “Was that all?”

  “Think about it?”

  “Hmm…yep, right, thought about it…no.”

  “I love him. He loves me,” Griff whispered.

  “That’s great. Have a nice day.” Devan didn’t look up until he heard the door close.

  Have a nice day? Where did that fucking come from? He could almost feel his blood pressure soar, hear his teeth cracking. For Christ’s sake! His fists were clenched so hard, he had to make a concerted effort to unclench them. He’d ripped the edge of the folder.

  This time when his mother called, he answered.

  “Yes?”

  “Devan! I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  She sighed. “I know that’s not true.”

  “I just told Griff it was fine. That’s life. One of those things. I can’t chat. Sorry. Lot to do.” He ended the call and dropped the phone back on his desk.

  His mood worsened as the day went on. He knew his world would turn again, given time—that little homily better be fucking true—but it wasn’t turning now, which was all that mattered.

  When he was called in to see his boss that afternoon, he anticipated being told to pull himself together and stop being such a dick to everyone. Devan dropped into the chair in front of Alan’s desk and stared out of the window. Light was glinting off The Shard, the glass dagger piercing the London sky, a thought that then pierced his heart because the last time he’d been in the Shard’s 31st floor bar had been when he and Ravi— Stop it!

  “Are you listening?”

  Devan looked up to find Alan staring at him over his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Sorry,” Devan said.

  Probably the only word he should utter today. I could do that. Say sorry to everyone. Except not to Griff.

  “Are you okay?” Alan asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  Alan snorted. If he suggested counselling, or an anger management course, Devan would hit him. Not even the irony of that could make him smile.

  “How about a proper holiday?” Alan asked. “You have plenty of days owing.”

  And why is that, Alan? Devan simmered like a rumbling volcano.

  “Ah. Sorry.” Alan winced, presumably registering why Devan had so many days untaken after the honeymoon hadn’t happened. “But I really think you should go away for a while. Have a break.”

  “No.” Because it was better to fill his time with work. Time to think was worse for his health than alcohol.

  “Look. I don’t want you both in the same space. Bad enough when your wedding didn’t go ahead, but now that Ravi is going to be part of your life in a different way, you need to get your head in gear. I can’t have you and Griff arguing and fighting. It’s not good for the business. It makes the office unsettled.” Alan put a folder on the desk between them. “What about you taking this instead of Griff and Jane.”

  Devan tensed.

  “I’ll get the name changed on the booking. Tomorrow night until Sunday. A bit of sea air might do you good.”

  Yes, mother.

  Alan put another folder on top of the first. “Check out this one too. It should make an interesting comparison. I know you don’t normally visit until after the first report, but if you go, we’ll save time. And Devan? Take time out for yourself. I mean it.”

  “You’re so desperate to keep me out of the office?”

  “To keep you apart. Just for a while.”

  “Then let Griff go.”

  “This isn’t just about the job. Take a break. You need space to think. An opportunity to see past what’s happened and look at it objectively. They’re going to be part of your life. You have to accept it.”

  No, I fucking don’t. Devan’s fists clenched again. It was a wonder he didn’t have nail marks in his palms, his very own stigmata.

  Humiliation brought bile surging up his gullet. What was worse was that no one really did know what had happened five months ago. Not the truth anyway, and that was his fault, his choice, and now his burden.

  “You know there’s a Breakup Manual for Men if you—”

  “I’m fine.” He really wasn’t. But a book wouldn’t put things right. Devan had a whole line of How to books in his office, all but one bought as jokes by friends, family and colleagues. How to live with a huge penis. How to poop on a date. How to talk to your cat about gun safety. It appeared to have become a competition as to who could find the weirdest. But How to get over finding your brother with his cock deep in your fiancé’s arse wasn’t available. He’d checked.

  “I’m worried about you,” Alan said. “You’ve lost your mojo.”

  I’ve lost a lot more than that. But Devan plastered an attempt at a smile on his face and pushed to his feet.

  “You might as well have the rest of the day off,” Alan said.

  He heard what Alan didn’t say. Leave now before you plant your fist in your brother’s face. Except Devan wouldn’t do that.

  “I meant what I said about staying up there a bit longer. If you don’t want a holiday, then take a scout around. See if there’s anything of interest. You know what we’re looking for.” Alan stood up and handed him the folders. “At least two weeks away. Preferably a month. Okay?”

  A month? “Would you prefer I resign?” Devan’s heart thumped hard.

  He was relieved to see Alan’s shocked expression. “No, I wouldn’t. You’re my right-hand man. I…”

  Maybe the look on Devan’s face stopped Alan saying more.

  “I could find another job.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Alan barked. “You’re the best at this. You see through all the crap. You have an eye for what’s needed, the best fit. If anyone leaves, it won’t be you.”

  Which didn’t make Devan feel any better, though it should have. He pressed his lips together and left with the two folders.

  Maybe he ought to find another job, then he could avoid his brother altogether. Except Alan was right, Griff and fucktard Ravi were going to be part of his life. They’d be at family events, talked about even when they weren’t there. Unless Devan went to live on a desert island and told no one, escape was impossible.

  Griff had always been the favoured son, the spoiled, disabled baby of the family who made everyone laugh and smile. The idea of having to sit around the table at Christmas alongside Ravi and Griff was unbearable. Imagining they’d have the kids that he and Ravi had talked about in their future was even more unbearable. The thought of their office Christmas celebration with Ravi at Griff’s side was…