“Fine then, keep your secrets,” Shawn conceded, giving up. “Are you still planning on heading up to Dalton tomorrow?”
Justin wiped the sweat from his brow, and the vision of Violet’s round ass dissipated in the steam of the room.
“Dalton . . . that’s right; I almost forgot.” He had no mind for work, but that didn’t mean that he could neglect his responsibilities.
Dalton was a town north of Atlanta that housed a lot of industry for the state. Chenille’s factory was located there. Justin took personal pride in the fact that his lingerie was made in the USA. “Yeah, I need to check on the final production of the designs for the show. So far, it’s going well, but . . .”
“But . . . you’re an Avery,” Shawn finished his sentence, “and a control freak, so of course you’re going to drive up to Timbuktu to spend the rest of the weekend overseeing the quality control of bras and panties.”
“Am I that bad?” Justin asked flatly. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” He laughed. He knew he was that bad.
“Is the lady coming along for the ride?” Shawn wiggled his eyebrows, and Justin flung a small hand towel at him.
“No, she has an appointment with her lawyer. The sooner her divorce is final, the better.” Justin frowned. He had run into Chad a few more times after their first encounter. He didn’t like the guy. He was stuck-up and self-absorbed. What Violet had ever seen in that guy, Justin would never know, but it wasn’t for him to judge. Violet would probably say the same thing about the choices he made with Brittany. The past was in the past.
“Doesn’t that bastard live in your building?” Shawn picked up on Justin’s vibe.
“Unfortunately. But I think there’s more to it than that.”
“Oh? How so?”
Justin ran his hand over the stubble across his chin that Violet refused to let him shave off. She had said she liked the way it felt on her pussy: rough and hot. He shook his head. His focus was all out of whack.
“I think this Chad guy is holding something over her head, but I can’t seem to get Violet to talk about him. Every time I bring him up, she changes the subject. He strikes me as the type of guy that if he can’t have what he wants, then he’s going to make sure she doesn’t get anything either.”
“A spiteful prick,” Shawn observed. “I hate him already. Ya think he may hurt her?”
Justin shook his head. “No, it’s not that. He has a firm in Midtown, so I doubt he would do anything to jeopardize that. No, this feels more like the legality surrounding the divorce —assets, money. There’s something there, but she’s just not telling me.”
Shawn nodded his head. “Ah, so he’s a sneaky prick, too. Better keep an eye on that one, then. Sounds like the type of dude who could blindside you; you’ll never see him coming.”
Justin agreed. He needed to keep tabs on Chad. Violet was fast becoming someone he really cared about past the sex and satin. The thought of her getting hurt in any way made his chest tighten.
“I may make a few phone calls to the family lawyers” — the Averys had a whole team of them — “and see what I can find out.” Justin stood up and stretched. “Time to hit the showers before my dick shrivels up and falls off.”
Shawn let out a hearty laugh. “I doubt you’re losing your dick anytime soon. I’ll buy you a protein shake on the way out; if you’re planning on continuing things with Violet, you’re going to need to keep your strength up.”
“You’re an ass, Shawn, you know that?” Justin cracked up.
“Yes, I am.” Shawn laughed with him. “But I am the only ass that can put up with your shit, ya fucker.”
Chapter Seven
Violet
“I knew it! I just knew it!” Russell exclaimed in a high-pitched voice while waving his chopsticks in the air. “You are dating the boss man!”
Violet slid farther down into the booth. “Is it that obvious? I thought I was being discreet.”
“Honey, you’re glowing.” Dylan gently pushed Russell’s chopsticks away from his face. “If you shine any brighter, you’ll light up half of Peachtree Avenue.”
It was Sunday. Russell had insisted that they meet up for Chinese at one of his favorite restaurants, The Green Dragon. Violet had decided to play it casual, but her body betrayed her. For one, she couldn’t stop smiling like some lovesick high school kid. It was like her happiness was permanently plastered across her face. Justin made her feel more alive than she had in years; she had practically skipped behind the hostess to their table. After a few pointed questions from the guys, the cat was out of the bag.
“Darling, I am so happy for you!” Russell reached across the table for her hand. “If I hadn’t already met the love of my life, I would have certainly given Boss Man a run for his money!”
Dylan snorted. “Now that I would have loved to see — my baby trying to convert the straightest man I have ever seen who works with lingerie.”
Russell clicked his tongue at his boyfriend. “It’s been known to happen. I’m told that I can be very persuasive.”
“You most certainly can,” Dylan replied, giving Russell a kiss.
Violet stabbed at another piece of sesame chicken, popping it in her mouth. “Do I need to leave you two alone?” she joked. “Because I can just take the rest of my lunch to go.”
Russell waggled his finger back and forth at her in front of her face. “Not a chance. We want to know everything. Where has he taken you? What have you talked about? Is his cock” —Russell made a motion to size with his hands — “this big?”
“Russell, I am not telling you that!” Violet blushed while sneaking glances around the restaurant to see if anyone had heard him, but the place was only half-full. Fortunately, they were also sitting near the back of the building.
“Well, we haven’t exactly gone anywhere . . . important. . . yet,” Violet stalled, wondering if Justin’s taking her to the moon and back, through the many orgasms he gave her, counted.
Dylan caught on first. “So, the sex is that mind-blowing, huh? Good for you, honey. It’s about damn time.”
Russell’s eyes widened. He clapped his hands together. “This calls for a toast!” He raised his cup of oolong tea up in the air. “To mind-blowing sex!”
“To mind-blowing sex!” Dylan and Violet repeated, clanking their cups together. That did cause a few tables to turn in their direction, but Violet didn’t care. She was finally feeling fabulous at forty, and she knew she had Justin Avery to thank for it.
Chapter Eight
Justin
He loved watching her work. It was already mid-March, and Chenille’s debut was now only two weeks away. The boutique had gotten even busier, if that was possible, but his new office assistant was handling it with grace and style.
“Justin, I went ahead and updated all of our social media platforms and sent out the newsletter to everyone on our email list. I wanted to know what your thoughts were on starting a blog. I think that it would really help to expand our customer base.”
She was sitting behind her desk across from his with a Bluetooth in her ear, wearing a pair of reading glasses that she only needed when she was on the computer. Justin thought the glasses made her sexy as hell, ridiculously kissable, and totally fuckable. At least one of them had their head screwed on straight that morning because all he could think about was screwing her from behind.
“Violet, it sounds wonderful. If you think you can handle running it, that is. I don’t want you taking on more than you have to right now. I’m stretching you already.” He couldn’t help it; he knew he wasn’t referring to her work. By the sultry pout that had crossed her face, she knew exactly what he had meant.
“Yes, you are,” she replied with heat in her voice, “but I think a blog would please you . . . among other things.”
Justin’s crotch tightened as his dick pushed up against his pants. Thankfully no one else was upstairs at the moment. The music wafting up from the showroom floor ensured that their conversation w
ould not be overheard.
The office phone rang, and Violet clicked the button on her earpiece, swiveling her chair away from him to take the call. Justin chuckled. She probably had the right idea. Chenille wasn’t going to run itself.
They worked in tandem through the rest of the morning and ordered lunch in. Around three o’clock, the UPS driver came through the front door with his usual packages and the day’s mail, which the girls on the floor usually signed for. However, this time he climbed the staircase to the second floor, stopping in front of Violet’s desk.
“Excuse me, ma’am, are you Violet Smoke?” he asked, holding an electronic clipboard in one hand and a stamped business envelope in the other.
Violet glanced up from her keyboard. “Uhm, yes, that’s me.”
“I just need your signature here and a picture ID, please.”
She fished out her driver’s license, handing it to him.
“Any idea what this is about?” Justin asked. He didn’t have a good feeling.
Violet shrugged her shoulders at him, signed the clipboard, and was handed the letter.
“It’s stamped Signature Upon Delivery,” the UPS guy told her. He tipped his cap. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
“You, too, sir,” she replied.
She opened the letter and began reading it silently. Justin noticed that her hands were beginning to shake while the color drained from her face.
Something was definitely wrong. He jumped up from his chair, crossing the floor to her desk. “Violet, what’s going on? What happened?”
“I’m . . . I’m losing the town house,” she said barely above a whisper, dropping the letter on her desk.
“What?” Justin said, not understanding, “You told me that that was already sorted out — you were going to do a lease-to-buy option from the mortgage company in order to buy out Chad’s half. How could that have changed?” Justin picked up the letter, scanning its contents.
“That was . . .” Violet cleared her throat, taking off her reading glasses. “That was only contingent upon the mortgage payments being paid on time through the course of our divorce. Chad had agreed — verbally — to pay his half until the divorce was final. I . . . I never got that in writing from him.” She closed her eyes. “How could I have been so stupid? We sent our payments in separately. I always assumed he was paying his half.” Her voice cracked.
The letter was from the mortgage company stating that they had only received half of the monthly payments for the last six months. The town house had now gone into foreclosure. It was to go up for public auction by the end of the month. Violet had less than fourteen days to move out.
Justin finished reading the letter, carefully folded it, and placed it back on her desk. “How is this possible? How is it that you are only finding out about this now?” He could feel anger boiling up inside of him. The prick was living in his building. Now all he wanted was to hunt Chad down and punch him in the face.
“Chad was listed as the primary homeowner. He was also the ‘first to contact’ for the mortgage company.” Violet was frantically digging the keys out of her purse. “They’re just now catching up with me.”
“Why would he do this to you? I mean, yes, you’re getting a divorce, but how . . . ?” Justin felt helpless, and it angered him even more. She was erratic and tense, and it was making him erratic and tense.
“Because” — she stood — “Chadwick Milton Hedges is an ass. He’s always been an ass. I was just too blind to see it. He never cared about the town house. It’s obvious that he doesn’t care what happens to me. So, if he doesn’t want it, he’s going to make damn sure that I don’t get it either — just to be spiteful — because he can.” She turned to leave.
“Violet, wait. Where are you going?” Justin didn’t know what to do. Shawn’s premonition had come true; the bastard had blindsided him.
“I need the rest of the day off.”
He could see a buildup of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
“Is that okay? Please?”
He moved towards her, but she stepped back, so he stopped. It was obvious she needed space right now, not someone crowding her.
“Of course. Take the rest of today — tomorrow, too, if you need it.” He put his hands in his pockets in an effort to appear less threatening. “Please let me know if I can help. I want to help.”
She wiped a stray tear away, nodding. “If you know of a moving company, let me know.” She tried to giggle, but it came out all wrong. “I’ve gotta go.”
He nodded in understanding as she hustled down the steps. She blew by Russell as he came through the front door. Justin picked up the letter again and read it a second time. His woman was hurting. For the moment there was nothing he could do about it.
“What the hell is going on Boss Man?” Russell’s voice sounded accusatory. Frankly, after seeing Violet’s condition, Justin couldn’t blame him.
He handed Russell the letter, still thinking about Violet.
His woman.
“Oh, shit,” were the first words out of Russell’s mouth.
“‘Oh, shit’ is right,” Justin echoed.
“He bled her dry, you know,” Russell said. “Every penny — ran up their credit cards, even took out a new car loan. Violet covered his ass for most of their marriage, said she felt it was her obligation to do so. All she wanted out of the divorce was that town house — that was it. She even signed over more than half of her 401k to him just so she could keep that place.”
“I had no idea it was that bad. Every time I asked her about the divorce, she would put me off.” Justin scratched at the scruff on his chin. A plan was beginning to take shape. “Russell, we’re taking the rest of the day off.”
“We are?” Russell questioned, surprised.
“Yes.” He grabbed his jacket. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Mr. Chadwick Milton Hedges and the parameters of their divorce. April and Chloe can lock up for the night.”
“Okay, Boss Man, whatever you say, but I’m not so sure that Violet will appreciate my giving up that information.”
“I know, but it’s a chance that I am going to have to take. I have an idea about how I may be able to help her, but I need to know everything.” He slipped on his jacket as they walked down the steps.
“If any of that involves putting Chad’s balls in a vice, I’m in.” Russell wasn’t joking.
“Me, first,” Justin said as they left the boutique. “You’ll have to get in line.”
Chapter Nine
Violet
Violet hadn’t slept all night. She scarcely remembered driving home the day before. She was moving like a zombie, drifting from room to room, wondering how her life had spiraled so far out of control. She was college educated with a degree in business, and from the moment she had graduated, she had always had a plan: get a solid job, get married, have babies, and revel in her job and being a mom. She had met Chad in her late twenties. They had hit it off, him courting her for almost two years before she finally said yes. He was decently attractive, very intelligent, and an extremely motivated lawyer bent on starting his own firm. The signs were there from the beginning that they probably weren’t meant for each other, but she figured that no one’s marriage was perfect, their relationship being what “real” couples had.
How could I have been so naïve?
The trouble had started when Violet realized that Chad had an appetite for the finer things in life without the means to fund them. She was working as an executive assistant for an IT company at the time, so the inflow of money was never a problem until Chad started spending it faster than it was coming in. He was always searching for “that one big case, that one big break” which would flush their coffers with cash. Almost a decade later, what was in the coffers had all but dried up. Violet was barely staying afloat on her own.
Who am I kidding? I am sinking, and fast.
She walked into the master bathroom, gazing at the claw-and-ball foot tub.
It was one of her favorite spots in the whole house. The town house had been her idea. Tucked on the outskirts of Buckhead, it was just enough to start a family while still being close to all of the amenities that she loved about the city. But the family never came — just excuses on why it was never the right time. Then, out of nowhere, the bastard up and asked her for a divorce. After that the fighting started. It didn’t stop until they were both too worn down. He wanted out. She wanted it over.
He’s still trying to hurt me. I can’t have just one sliver of happiness.
The doorbell rang, breaking Violet from the self-induced pity party that was playing out in her head.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Whoever was on the other side was ringing the doorbell repeatedly.
“What?!” she said, frustrated, swinging the door open.
“I come bearing gifts.” It was Justin, holding bags of food and a bottle of wine.
“Justin, I don’t think . . . ,” Violet started.
He dipped his head and softened his voice, which made her weak in the knees. “Don’t think, Violet. You’re not alone; please don’t shut me out.”
She stood to the side, and he passed by her, setting his bags down on the first table he came across while she closed the door. At the sight of the groceries, her stomach growled; it dawned on her that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime the previous day.
They just stood in the hall, staring at each other, until Justin walked over and enveloped her in his embrace. When he brought his hand up to her face, caressing her cheeks, her chin, her lips, Violet felt her anger and pain ebb away.
Then he kissed her. It was a soft kiss filled with concern and caring. She felt that familiar fire in her belly that only Justin seemed to know how to spark. She wanted his cock deep inside of her, filling her up. She wanted him now.
Their kisses turned hungry, wanton, and lustful. She unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his pants; she couldn’t get her hands on his body fast enough.
Violet In Lace Page 4