Violet In Lace

by Vivienne Hunt

  Violet just stared at the blank screen. Mr. Avery definitely wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type. She wondered if Justin knew that his father was planning on having lunch with her. Maybe he had given Mr. Avery her number.

  He would have told you. Justin would have said so.

  As Violet started to get ready for bed, an uncomfortable feeling began to churn in the pit of her stomach. She dialed Justin’s number and then thought better of it, setting the phone back on the nightstand. She was a grown woman. Whatever Mr. Avery wanted, she could handle it.

  Who am I kidding?

  Violet tossed and turned between the sheets. Man, she missed her bed. She used to think that she could handle anything. Now she wasn’t so sure. It was hours before sleep finally came.

  Lunch was at a private club — that Violet didn’t even know existed — on the penthouse floor of some banking high-rise in downtown Atlanta. The club had all polished wood walls, plush carpets, and expensive tableware. Violet wondered how much their yearly club membership was.

  More than you can afford, honey.

  She chose to wear one of her more conservative outfits of a button-up blouse and blue business jacket with a matching skirt that rested right on the knee. She felt like she was going to a job interview. When the hostess seated her at a table across from who she guessed was Justin’s father, she could tell by his relieved expression that her attire had been the right choice. A waiter wearing white gloves came over and poured glasses of ice water. The restaurant was noticeably empty, as if it had been planned. It only made Violet feel more self-conscious — that her “sins” had been so bad that Mr. Avery didn’t even want to be seen in public with her.

  Mr. Avery didn’t bother to introduce himself or shake her hand. “I took the liberty of ordering ahead of time so that we could have more time to talk.” He sounded exactly as he had on the phone; his appearance also reflected as much — serious and all business.

  “That was very kind of you.” Violet tried not to sound put off, but it was a gross assumption on Mr. Avery’s part to think he knew what she would like for lunch. What if she had some kind of food allergy? She took a drink of her water; her throat was already getting tight and dry.

  “Violet, I’d like to cut to the chase here.” Mr. Avery rested his arms on the edge of the table, obviously feeling completely at home in his environment. “I am sure you are aware of the latest tabloid gossip surrounding you and my son. It’s brought a lot of unnecessary attention to the Avery name.”

  Violet didn’t say a word, noting that he had mentioned nothing about the misery it had caused in her own life. She gripped the base of her water glass.

  “I believe I have a solution that would be mutually beneficial to all parties involved.”

  Wow, was he full of himself. She was about to give him a piece of her mind, telling him that it was none of his damn business, but then the waiter came over with their lunch plates.

  Salad.

  She would have laughed at the irony of it if her situation hadn’t been so dire. It didn’t matter. She had lost her appetite.

  “As I was saying,” Mr. Avery said as he reached inside his jacket pocket and produced an envelope, handing it to her, “this could benefit all of us — even give you a fresh start.”

  Violet opened the envelope. Inside was a check written out to her for an insane amount of money. It was more money than she had ever made in a year. No, it was more money than she had ever made in her entire adult career.

  “You can just disappear. Start over. Move to the West Coast. That kind of money will help you to create a new life, somewhere else.” Violet absorbed his words as he sat back in his chair.

  That kind of money.

  Son of a bitch - the asshole was trying to buy her off.

  “And I am never to see Justin again,” she added firmly.

  He actually had the gall to laugh out loud. “Well, of course not, dearie. That could’ve never lasted. Justin is an Avery after all. He is well out of your league, Violet. I knew my son had some fetishes, but this has gotten way out of hand. Take the money, Violet. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

  Violet felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Mustering whatever strength, she had left inside of her, she very calmly took the check and deliberately tore it in half. She placed the pieces on top of her uneaten salad. With more dignity than she knew she had in her, she carefully rose from the table. “Thank you for lunch, Mr. Avery. It’s been a real eye-opener.”

  He called after her, “I know about the foreclosure on the town house, Violet! My son’s been tying up the family’s lawyers with your financial problems for the last week. Was that your plan? Have Justin buy it outright so he could keep you around as his personal whore?”

  Violet stumbled towards the elevator. Mr. Avery’s words cut through her like a knife. Once the doors closed, she pressed up against the elevator wall, gasping for air. Her heart was racing a mile a minute while she processed his words.

  Then the anger hit her — white, blinding anger. When she reached the lobby, she asked the person at the front desk to call her a taxi.

  “Chenille,” she barked to the driver, rattling off the address. Paparazzi or not, it was time to get some answers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Justin

  Justin was shocked to see Violet coming through the front door of the boutique in the middle of the day. Some of the paparazzi were still lingering on the sidewalk in front of Chenille. They recognized her face at once and began immediately snapping pictures. Fortunately, the security guard that Justin had hired the day before prevented them from coming inside. Justin was thrilled to see her until he saw of the expression on her face. Violet was loaded for bear, and apparently she had him in her sights.

  “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” she snapped at him once she had climbed the steps, reaching his desk. She was out of breath and furious.

  “Violet, baby, what are you talking about?” Justin tried to soothe her, but she was having none of it.

  “Do not ‘baby’ me. You were going to buy my town house? What was the plan? To hold that over my head so I would be obligated to you — indebted to you?” He had never seen her angry, not like this.

  “Who told you that?” Justin asked, but she just glared back at him. “I mean, yes, I was checking the foreclosure. . . . I . . . I . . . wanted to help.” Oh man, was that the wrong answer.

  “Help!? Help!?” Her voice was rising, so much so that Russell came out from the design room, flagging down April to lock the front door. Thankfully it was still lunchtime, and there weren’t any customers on the floor — though, now, that was due largely in part to the paparazzi. Chenille was losing business, and fast.

  “Were you planning on ‘helping’ me like your father? Is that the type of ‘help’ you had in mind?” She was yelling now.

  Justin’s blood ran cold. “My father? You saw my father? What happened? What did he say to you?” Justin was frantic. How the hell did Austin get a hold of Violet? And why did he go behind his back to do it?

  “Oh, he said a lot.” Violet was waving her hands angrily in the air. Russell started to approach them, but Justin shook his head “no.”

  “He basically tried to buy me off — handed me a check and everything. Told me that if I was to disappear, it would be in ‘everyone’s best interest.’” She was making imaginary quotations with her fingers.

  “Oh my God, Violet, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.” If Justin was standing in front of his father right now, he would have strangled him on the spot.

  “Oh, didn’t you? He certainly seemed to know a lot about my situation. He even called me your ‘personal whore.’” She was losing her composure, croaking out her words.

  “Violet, you must believe me; I had no idea my father would stoop so low and do something like this.” Justin tried to approach her, but she backed away from him, heading towards the back door of the boutique.

  “Justin
, I don’t know what to believe anymore. I really don’t. All I know is I am going home, to my home, while I still have a roof over my head. Fuck you. Fuck your father. Fuck the cameras.” She heaved open the door and was down the steps before Justin could get another word out.

  His rage hit the breaking point. With both hands, he furiously swept everything off the top of his desk and onto the floor. Papers, pens, and assorted stationery went flying. He was going to kill his father — that is, if he got the chance to see him again before he left town.

  “Justin,” Russell said in a quiet voice, “let me go talk to her and explain. It’s my fault. I told you about the circumstances around her divorce and the foreclosure. It’s me Violet should be angry with, not you.”

  Justin shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I thought I could do something nice for her. I didn’t even get a chance to explain exactly what I had in mind.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.” He couldn’t believe his father had blown his chances with the woman he had fallen in love with.

  “Let me talk to her,” Russell implored. “I can tell her everything. I know you wanted it to be a surprise, but I think we are past that now.”

  Justin threw his hands up in the air as a sign of defeat. “If you think it would help. I want her back, Russell. I . . .”

  “I know, Boss Man, I know.” Russell gave him a sympathetic smile before shooing him away. “The girls and I will clean this up.” He motioned at the mess on the floor. “Go home, get some rest, and let me work my magic!” Russell made jazz hands gestures in the air.

  Justin cracked a smile at that, shaking his head. “All right. You know Violet better than anyone. Thank you, Russell.” He picked up his keys and phone off of the floor, heading for the utility door that Violet had just blazed through.

  “You’re damn straight I do!” Russell said in his singsong voice as Justin left.

  As he exited the back of the building, he decided to call Joanna.

  “Justin, sweetie! How are you doing?” His mother was upbeat and genuinely happy to hear from him.

  “I’ve been better. There’s something you need to know.” He began to fill her in on the latest exploits of his father.

  Joanna was so silent on the other end of the line that Justin thought the call had dropped. When she did speak, her voice was level and severe. “Goddamn you, Austin. Justin, this time your father’s gone too far.”

  “Mom, I’m at a loss here. If I go and see him . . .” He blew out his breath. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my shit together.” Thoughts of his pending assault charge with Chad crossed his mind.

  “You won’t have to.” He heard rustling on the other side of the line; there was someone talking in the background.

  “Honey, I’m taking the next flight down to Atlanta. I wasn’t planning on coming in until Fashion Week, but your father’s actions now make it impossible for me not to. I’ll be staying at The Westin.”

  Excellent. Reinforcements.

  “Thanks, Mom, it means a lot.” He knew how crazy her schedule was; for her to fly down early meant canceling appointments and meetings that may have been months in the making. His father was in for a world of hurt once Joanna caught up with him.

  Bastard, he should be.

  They said their goodbyes and hung up. Justin had to resist the temptation to call Violet. No, it was better to let Russell “work his magic.” Magic. Voodoo. Prayers. Miracles. He’d take any or all of it if it meant getting his woman back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Violet

  “Russell, I’m not in the mood to talk.” Violet was standing behind her front door with it slightly ajar. A lone cameraman was busy snapping pictures from the driver’s seat of his van.

  Fucking bastards.

  “Darling, either you let me in or my luscious fanny is going to be their next cover story!” Russell shook his demin-clad ass before turning around and popping the cameraman the finger.

  “Oh, get in here!” Violet said, opening the door and pulling him inside. She shut the door behind him, turning the dead bolt. “There’s nothing you can say to make this situation any better.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I beg to differ, darling. So, now that we are captives in your house, you’re just going to have to hear me out.” He floated towards the kitchen. “We’re going to need wine!” he sang over his shoulder.

  Violet grumbled her objections but dutifully followed her best friend into the kitchen. Russell was already opening a bottle of Chardonnay that she had had chilling in the refrigerator. “You have my attention. Let’s hear it, then.”

  Russell took his time pouring two robust glasses of wine before handing one to her. “It’s my fault that Justin was trying to purchase your town house.”

  “What!? You told him!?” Violet felt betrayed. “Russell, how could you!?”

  Russell held his hands up. “Allow me finish; I’m not done.”

  Violet had crossed her arms again. Things were very much done from where she sat.

  He took a sip of his wine and then began again, “Did you know that the Averys own real estate all over the country? They even have an entire group of lawyers, agents, and investors who just deal with the buying and selling of their properties.”

  Violet shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t following him. “So? My town house was going to become an investment?”

  “Sort of.” Russell sighed. “Oh, darling, it’s not what you think. Justin was trying to have his investors buy your town house before the auction, pay off Chad’s half, and then sell the remainder back to you under the same conditions you had with your original mortgage company — you would be on a lease-to-buy program with them provided the payments came in on time.”

  Violet dropped her arms and just sat there, trying to absorb the meaning of Russell’s words.

  Russell reached across the table, placing his hand on top of hers. “He didn’t want to see you homeless. He knows how much you love this place and want to keep it.”

  Violet’s shoulders slumped forward and she realized the mistake she had made. She covered her mouth with one of her hands.

  “Ofph miff gob.” Her words came out muffled.

  “Yup, Ofph miff gob,” Russell repeated, grinning at her.

  Dropping her hand, she reached across the kitchen island and smacked Russell on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Justin tell me?”

  “Because, you silly thing, he needed to wait until everything was in order. The auction on this place is still a week away — that’s a mountain of new paperwork. Then there’s the homeowner’s insurance, the HOA fees . . .” Russell was still ticking off items when Violet rushed around the counter, giving him a fierce hug.

  “I’m such an idiot,” she said into his shirt.

  “No, you did what any sane person would have done with the information that you had.” Russell pulled her away, holding her gaze. “Did Justin’s father really try to buy you off?”

  “Yup, he sure did.” Violet told him the amount on the check.

  He let out a low whistle.

  “Girl, we could have moved to the Caribbean with that kind of money!” He snapped his fingers in the air. “Cabana boys, here we come!”

  “Yes, we could have, but I wouldn’t have had my Justin.” Violet buried her face in her hands. “Oh God, the things I said to him.”

  “I have a feeling that all will be forgiven.” Russell winked at her. “Of course, you’re going to need a sexy nudge from Chenille.”

  Violet snorted, not sure what Russell meant. “How am I going to fix this?”

  “I sent Justin home early, and I left you a box underneath your desk.” Russell drank another sip of his wine, his eyes twinkling. “It’s my latest creation for our After-Hours line. The rental is parked down the block.” He nodded his head in the direction of the back door. “Now get outta here.”

  Violet squealed, “Russell, you are the best, ever!”

  “I know
, I know.” Russell chuckled while she grabbed her purse.

  “Wait!” Russell stopped her just as she was about to leave. He ran over to the hall closet, whipping out her dusky raincoat. He threw it at her. “You’re going to need this, darling!”

  Violet giggled, tucking it under her arm. “Thank you, Russell, really. Thank you.”

  “My God, I am the best freaking Fairy Godmother, if I do say so myself!” Pointing at the door, he said, “go, my work here is done!”

  The security guard at the front desk buzzed her in, and she rode the elevator to Justin’s floor. All the while she was a jumble of nerves and excitement. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Crossing her fingers that he would let her in, Violet tentatively knocked on his door.

  It took him a minute, but eventually she heard the turning of the lock. “Hi,” she said softly, “mind if I come in?”

  “Hi,” he answered back. Despite his tired, worn-out appearance he was incredibly sexy standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of drawstring pajama pants.

  He started to say something, but she held up a finger to his lips. “First, I wanted to apologize for my behavior in the boutique today,” she began. “Regardless of what is going on in our personal lives, I should have never made such a scene. It was unprofessional and immature.”

  Justin’s face seemed to relax a bit. “Violet, considering what my father did to you, I can’t say that I blamed you one bit. I’m not so sure if I would have been any more composed if that had happened to me.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Still, it will never happen again. I very much want to keep my job — that is, if you still want me on your team.”

  He grinned. “Of course I still want you on my team. Violet, I mean it when I say that I could not have gotten through the last couple of weeks without your help running Chenille.”

  She smiled back at him, feeling a bit lighter. “Wait, I’m not done.”

  “There’s more?” he teased.