by Natalie Wrye
Finally, any and all audiences are gone and I can let go. I let go of everything.
The Fletcher case I’m being forced to close and everything that means for my career. The assault I suffered at the hands of a Senior Partner. And finally I let go of the thought of the relationship that never was, the romance I thought I’d had by not, as Marilyn put it, “playing it safe.”
I failed. I fucking failed. At everything.
I stand to my feet, shaking off the sobs. Wiping under my eyes with my shaking wrists, I smudge what’s left of my mascara on the edge of my sleeve with a heavy sigh. I reach for the first line of streamers strung along the wall and just before I pull, a hand lands on my cotton-covered shoulder and that intoxicating smell of sandalwood comes with it, leaving me dizzy, driving a sudden punch to my stomach that threatens to double me over as it dawns on me who the hand belongs to.
I slowly spin, meeting his brown gaze with mine. I inhale a week’s worth of air in one fell swoop. I know who it is before I even turn around…
Chapter 30
HEATH
Everything below my waist stirs just looking at her.
She’s fucking delectable when she’s vulnerable, her defenses down. I haven’t met many people with more walls than Violet Keats. The tough-as-nails lawyer could best any bricklayer.
Her hair is straightened and sleek, a silky sheet of glossy ginger. Her lips are painted blush red, and she wears a dark black skirt suit, the jacket and skirt fitting her body perfectly, accentuating her petite but curvaceous shape. The shirt beneath the jacket is as red as her mouth and nearly as enticing.
I stare at her with brazen longing. My icy girl. There’s no girl in those curves, nothing childish in that skin. I can attest from personal experience…that she’s all woman.
She freezes, shifting the black purse that’s in her hand. She looks at me, scoffing, strands of hair swinging as she shakes her head. “I don’t believe this…” She licks her lips once, turning on her heel, and marches back out of the office and down the hallway. I take off, following closely, my stride in synch with the clicks of her black pumps.
“Violet, hold up!”
“Not for you,” she slings at me.
“It’s not what you think.”
She glances at me as she continues to storm out.
“You unbelievable bastard. Was this part of your plan? Finesse me, fuck me? Trade me to David King like some baseball card?”
I’m taken aback. “It wasn’t at all. There was never any…“
She throws me a look quickly over her shoulder, shooting daggers from her eyes.
“Okay,” I backtrack a bit. “There was technically a bet going on, but I…”
“You liar. I can’t believe I trusted you,” She reaches the elevator, jumping in the crowded space, leaving no room for me to join her.
I watch the elevator close, catching a glimpse of her gorgeous eyes. They’re shimmering, glistening back at me with unshed tears that refuse to fall. I know she won’t let them. Not in front of me.
I blink, and then they’re gone, disappeared with the rest of her. I let her leave me once before. I’m not going to let her leave me again.
I run towards the stairs, opening the wooden door to the stairwell. There’s no one in here. No one would be. It’s practically suicide taking these stairs up or down. I’m clearly the only fool willing to risk my life.
I start running, skipping steps, dropping down floor by floor.
Every fifth level, I consider stopping: consider running to the elevator to catch it on its way down. But if I miss it, then I’ll be waiting. And Violet will be out of the front door and possibly out of my life. For good. So, I can’t.
Floor 39.
Floor 22.
Floor 17.
At Floor 11, I start to panic, thinking maybe her elevator doesn’t have as many stops as I’d hoped.
Hope is a weird sensation. It makes you crazy.
I had hope when I ran to Marilyn’s hospital bed three weeks ago. I had hope when I saw her. I have hope. Even now. But the hope is no longer about whether or not my sister’s life will be saved.
Now that life that needs saving? It’s mine.
Because when you fall in love, your life is no longer your own. Mine belongs to Violet Elizabeth Keats, and I’m not going to let her go until she knows it.
I nearly collapse onto the SparrowHead lobby level, soaked with sweat, my heart pumping as I search for her. My collared shirt is stuck to my chest, hair plastered to my brow. I circle the expanse outside of the elevator chutes, catching my breath, searching for her.
Several doors open. Even more actually close. Suits go in. Suits come out. But none of them are her. I clutch my knees from the exhaustion, bending at the waist, believing I’ve missed her.
Violet’s disappeared again…and I doubt she’ll come back this time.
The ding of the doors brings me back to life again, and this time, when I look, I find the vision I’ve been searching for.
She bypasses me, as I’m crouched over, picking up the pace as she heads toward the front doors. I limp after her, trying to keep up.
My gait is slow next to her power-walk; she struts in sky-high heels like they don’t exist. There’s nothing Violet can’t master, nothing she can’t rightfully conquer.
She’s built for business, pleasure, and everything in between. She’s everything I didn’t know I needed…wrapped in one smoldering ass package.
She hits the front doors to the SparrowHead lobby with a jolting force, exiting with me in hot pursuit. The gust of air that greets us from outside is muggy: breezy and wet from the rain that now drizzles.
Where there was once sun just an hour ago, there are now clouds, dark and ominous, moving swiftly across the sky.
Through the light rain shower, I speak to her retreating back.
“You can trust me.” There’s silence in return. “You have to know that I did this without thinking, that I knew I couldn’t lose. Not when it comes to you.” Still nothing.
“Hurting you was never part of the deal. I would never want to hurt you.”
She scoffs harshly. “Yeah…right.”
That’s it. I’ve finally caught my breath, but my patience has run out. I grab Violet’s elbow, spinning her towards me. She stops walking immediately, and now we are face-to-face. The sleet begins to fall faster.
“Okay, Violet. You wanna talk about trust? Let’s talk about trust. You can’t trust me? Oh, because you were so honest, right?” I hear her intake of breath, but I don’t stop.
“Look, Vi. I was an asshole. And we both held things back from each other…but what about the things that we didn’t? What about the things that we shared? Weren’t those real? They were for me.”
She pauses momentarily, glancing down towards the ground. The quiet is deafening, making the slushy rain sound like a roar. Though we are on the cemented sidewalk outside of the building, we are completely alone, and it almost feels as if we are back at the bar.
Seeing each other again for the first time after a year apart.
Our faces are dripping wet. Our clothes are soaked through. Rivulets of icy rain fall down Violet’s face like tears, and I’m not quite sure that they aren’t.
She lifts her eyes to meet mine.
“No, Heath…“she hisses softly. “You don’t get to make the calls, anymore. I’m done being your minion.”
I’ve never been the kind of man who couldn’t talk to women, never understood that tongue-tied type. But when I’m around Violet, I’m sometimes at a loss for words. With her, there are some things I just can’t say…
And just as I’m thinking about my next words, she runs off again, leaving me in the dust. I rush to the Audi, which thankfully isn’t far away. Opening the front door, I jump into its leather interior, pushing to “Start.” Several fumbling seconds later, I am backing out of my parking space and heading directly towards her.
I pull up next to her just as she raises
her hand to hail the nearest taxi. My voice is a raspy grow.
“Get in, Vi.”
The downpour drenches us both but she ignores it, stomping through huge puddles with the gait of a gladiator. “You can go now, Heath.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Get in.” She flings her wet hair over her shoulder in response, sort of a fuck you without the middle finger. Nonetheless, I keep cruising beside her.
Rainwater is tunneling into the rental’s open window. I’ll be swimming in this car if I don’t make a change, and I couldn’t give two shits.
I can live with the wet leather…
I can’t without Violet.
She keeps trotting down the street, black bag in hand, getting more and more drenched with each passing minute. Her black jacket’s been left behind, and her bright red shirt is barely passing as clothing.
“Please get in.” I try another route. “I’ll take you to wherever you want to. We don’t have to talk or anything. I’ll just drop you off.”
She hesitates briefly before halting completely. She chews her already-red lip, tapping a heel on the ground with impatience, and I can almost hear her thoughts. I’m damned sure she can hear mine, my heart is pounding so loudly.
She turns suddenly towards me. “Fine. I’ll get in. But take me home. And then get out of my life.”
I nod slowly, my voice sinking with the words. “Whatever you say.”
I hit a switch near my armrest, opening all of the doors. I prepare for Violet to take the passenger seat, but when she doesn’t, hopping directly into the backseat. She pulls her door shut with a resounding thwack, and I close the open window, pulling off, regretting every single fucking secret, every single untruth…
Chapter 31
VIOLET
The interior of Heath’s car is warmer than I thought it’d be. I hug myself to fight off the chill before I realize that there isn’t any.
His seats are heated, the surface hot. I didn’t realize that backseats could have that capability, but this is a Sparrow we’re talking about. He’s one of those suits I thought I hated, one of the spoiled wealthy I could not stand. He flipped the script on me…just when I thought I was getting to know him.
I reminisce about the conversation with Marilyn before my night with Heath. I remember each resonating word.
“You’re in love with Heath,” she asks. No, not asks. Declares.
I balked. “No! Well, yes, but…” I stop talking. I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
“It’s okay if you love him, Vi. He loves you, too.”
“But… He does?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “How do you know?”
She shrugged. “He’s my brother. And I know him better than a book.” She grinned. “And a book is twice as hard to read.” She stroked my arm. “You need to tell him that you do. Don’t hold back with him. Or you’ll regret it.”
I listened to her advice. Soaked it up like a sponge.
Stupid me.
Twelve months couldn’t wash the feeling I’d first had with Heath away. Several states couldn’t make it fly by. I’m just as infatuated with Heath as the day we’d locked eyes.
And maybe he had me before then. The second I heard his voice, I think I belonged to him alone.
That soothing, calming voice in my ear that lulled me into security and then struck out like a coiled snake. I still don’t know if I can trust that voice…or the man behind it.
Fitzgerald Sparrow was known for years as an asshole, and judging by the way that Heath had been brought up, the same traits likely lurked beneath the surface for him, too. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. Maybe, if I try hard enough, I can squelch the tingling on my skin that rises every time he looks at me. Maybe I can temper the flutter in my stomach that kicks up every time he puts his hands on my skin.
And maybe, just maybe, in enough time… I will forget him. Forget this constant craving. Forget this possessive need.
But right now, that’s impossible…because he’s currently speaking to me from the front seat of his car.
“I need to explain some things to you,” he says.
“I thought you said we didn’t have to talk.”
His voice is deadpan. “I lied.”
I cross my legs. “Shocking.”
An entire minute passes by without a word, and I am grateful for the silence. Well, the physical silence, at least. As always, we are communicating with our eyes. Our gazes clash on the surface of the rearview mirror, daring the other to back down, saying all of the things that our mouths dare not voice.
Heath speaks first.
“So, what? Is this going to be like it was those first few days back in New York? Not speaking? Not telling each other the truth? Is that the new plan?”
“What am I supposed to say to you?”
“Anything. Say what you feel, what you think.”
“What I think? What am I supposed to think?” I explode at him. “It seems all you did was plan. Plan and plot on what to do with me. Try to figure out how I was going to fit into your designs.”
His brown eyes blaze with latent heat, growing intense—outraged in a matter of seconds.
“I didn’t plan this, Keats. No matter what you think. I didn’t plan to make a bet about you. I didn’t plan to run my father’s firm. I didn’t plan on wanting you as my wife, Violet.”
He continues driving, his body frozen as he shifts gears. “But I do.”
On the last syllable, we pass by my brownstone. Sliding through my periphery, it comes and goes like an imagined ghost. Maybe I am imagining it. But to be honest, right now? I can’t even care.
For the first time in my life, I am shocked into utter silence.
HEATH
The words go flying out of my mouth before I can tether them down.
Violet’s eyes grow scarily wide, and her lips part in surprise. Her hair is wild and wavy again, thanks to the rain. Her skin is smooth, damp and dewy, and her lips –those fucking lips –are swollen and so unbelievably kissable.
She’s gorgeous. She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Even when she’s scowling…like she is at me this very second.
“How dare you?” she rasps.
“How dare you say that to me? After everything? After you tried to sucker me into some twisted scheme? I don’t even know who you are, Heath.” She shakes her head, causing wisps of wet hair to go flying sideways.
“And I’m not going to be a pawn in one of your little games anymore,” she says, her voice rising. “I’ll admit: I had my faults. Huge, glaring faults…and I wasn’t blameless. But that does not excuse you passing me around like some little toy, like some…some tiny piece in a competitive chess match with your father or David. What next? You going to put me on the streets? Prostitute me out to the highest bidder?” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. She shakes her head and sorrow replaces the anger. “How do I know that you won’t hurt me, Heath?”
The force of her sadness hits me like a blow across the face. Every step that I’ve taken under these circumstances, every move that I’ve made has been with her in mind. Making sure that she’s alright. Making sure that she’s safe.
It’s the thought that has kept me going…even when I wanted to give up. But I’m done rolling over.
I stop the car abruptly, pulling curbside and cutting the ignition. Jumping out into the pouring cold rain, I open the back door so that I can sit beside her in the leather seat. She scoots over as I enter, putting as much space between us as possible. I close the distance quickly, hovering over her so that she can hear my every word.
“I can’t promise that I won’t…” I grab the sides of her face, smoothing my hand along her silky skin. I take a deep breath. “I can’t promise that you won’t wake up some mornings wanting to smack me. I can’t promise that you won’t walk into the kitchen on some shitty day and want to chuck the fucking frying pan at my head. I can’t promise that you won’t think about plotting my death…�
�� I grin. “What I can promise you is a husband who loves you. A husband who will spend every last aching breath making sure that each second of your life is better than the last. I can promise you a husband who will never stop making sure he’s worthy of you, whenever he can. I can promise you a husband who will never stop betting on us. On love.” I swallow. “Violet Keats… You are a part of me. A part of whatever wicked soul I once had. You are a part of whatever I once was, and whatever man I will grow to be.”
Violet closes her eyes, growing still. She is so quiet that I’m not even sure she is still breathing at this point. I continue talking.
“You are everything I never knew I needed. Everything I could have ever hoped for… I’m so sorry I did hurt you. I can’t say it enough. I’m not going to promise that I won’t hurt you, Violet… or that we won’t hurt each other.” I touch her pointed chin. “I’m going to promise that I’ll be right there to help you heal if and when we do.”
My chest heaves from squeezing so hard.
I’ve been holding onto the words I needed to say to Violet for so long that I was afraid that they had festered within me and died. She remains quiet, her eyelids still drawn downward. Her dark lashes create a shadow just above her cheeks, and I’m dying to kiss her there to feel them flutter.
I want to run my fingers through her flowing hair. Put my nose near her neck and just breathe. Undress her out of those wet clothes. Warm her up…the right way.
But in the middle of my fantasy, she responds. She finally opens her eyes.
“Is that it?” Her eyes are open wide, revealing pale blue hues with flecks of gold I hadn’t noticed until now. Completely innocent.
I nod. “Yes.”
“You want to make me your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Tequila?”
I stare at her, smiling. “If you’ll let me.”
She kisses me, pulling me against her, her tiny palms framing my face. I’m lost for words as I kiss her back, sucking her tongue gently between my teeth, and when I swallow her tiny moan, she pulls back, a tear forming in the corner of her eyes. I almost kiss it away.