by Ashley Logan
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
“Violet Wheeler, I need to speak to you privately about matters of the utmost importance. If you do not accompany me this instant, I will be forced to physically assist you to do so.”
The gasps from those around us make me cringe. With fists balled so tightly that my nails dig into my palms, I march away, assuming Serge will be hot on my tail. Heading straight for the ladies’ room, I slip inside, but not fast enough to get the door shut behind me before Serge bursts through it.
“You think the ladies’ room will keep me away? Have you forgotten how we met?” he says, paying little attention to the disapproving looks and comments of the ladies pushing past him to leave.
“No. I just wanted some privacy, because I’ve already been humiliated enough for one night. What the fuck is wrong with you? Pulling that shit.” Shaking my head in disbelief, I pace the row of stalls, checking they’re empty. “Is it not enough that I’ve embarrassed myself on stage and turned you into someone you’re not? Can you not just leave me to collect myself?”
“What the hell are you talking about Vi?” he says, blocking the exit and denying me any retreat. “I pulled my badge because you wouldn’t come unless I did.”
“I might have!”
Laughing, Serge shakes his head. “Bullshit. We’re nothing if not honest with each other Vi, so just shut up and listen while I get a few things straight. Please.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I curse my traitorous nipples as they strain to be closer to the annoying man with the eyes that melt my resolve. Pressing my lips together, I huff through my nose and study the tiles on the floor.
“Violet, you pushed me away.”
Remaining silent, I give a lop-sided shrug and keep my eyes on the floor.
“I didn’t realize that at first. I was angry. I thought I wasn’t good enough and that you’d abandoned me,” he says softly, and I steal a glance at his sincere face.
I’d been so set on self-preservation and pushing him to what he’d always wanted, I hadn’t even considered he’d see it like that.
“By the time I figured out what you were doing, I was convinced it was for reasons different from those you showed me tonight. You think it’s about Gina, but it’s not. I thought I didn’t mean anything to you, then I thought I’d provoked your demons, but when I was assured that wasn’t the case, you pushed me away again, assuming that because I’d seen you dance, I was some lust crazed idiot without the ability to feel anything more.”
“Well you -”
“Let me finish!” he cries gruffly, blocking someone as they try to enter by pushing the door closed again.
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and looks me over, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t tell you about watching you dance, because I didn’t want you to think that way. It affected me, but not how I thought it would, and definitely not how you think it did.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I sigh. “You’re speaking in riddles. Just spit it out.”
Taking a deep breath, Serge takes a step closer. “When you asked if I was going to watch, I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure how I’d cope with seeing so many other men all wanting you. I made myself go, knowing that it was something I’d have to know, if I was going to pursue a relationship with you.” Holding his hand up to stop me from what I’m about to say, he shakes his head. “Please.” With another breath, he continues.
“Once you started dancing, I saw that you had no interest in anything but the dance and the way you moved, made me want to put an end to the need you were projecting, not because I wanted to get my end off, but because I wanted to bring you satisfaction. I wanted to take care of you how you were showing me you needed. I wanted to fuck you the way you were asking to be fucked and I felt like the whole dance was asking me to do it and teaching me how. The truth is I wanted to do those things before I saw you dance, Vi. And not just because you’re ‘easy on the eye’, because that doesn’t even come close to describing how beautiful you are. I wanted you because of the way you made me feel. You made me feel deserving, despite all my ugly truths. That’s what made me fall in love with you.”
Reaching out a hand to steady myself, I lean against a toilet stall. “Pardon?”
“I love you,” he says more clearly, edging closer as I take a step back. “Tonight I saw what you thought happened, but you’re wrong. I was so in love with you that when Gina landed on the doorstep, I didn’t think twice. She was back home with Rick that same night, trying for another baby, but you thought I was throwing you away like garbage so I could be with her? You thought I’d do that?”
A strangled noise leaves my throat and I lean more heavily against the stall. “H-” Shaking my head, I clear the lump from my throat. “Wh-? How? You love me?”
His incredulous expression intensifies as he scans my face. “How could I not? You’re perfect.”
Scoffing, I look around in disbelief. “Perfectly fucked up!”
“I love you, Violet Wheeler,” he says, cupping my face in his big palms so my eyes can’t dodge his. “Let me love you. Please.” His words send shivers down my spine at the same time as making every tingling nerve shooting down to swirl low in my belly.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“Me too,” he whispers back, so close I can feel his breath on my lips. “Would it help if I kissed you?”
Wetting my lips, I look into his eyes and see nothing but the love he’s professing. “I think it would help a lot.”
Brushing his lips gently against mine, Serge lulls me into an easy embrace. Wanting more, I lean into him, intensifying the kiss and inviting him in. His hands run down my bare back and he moans into my mouth before pulling away. “Did I even tell you how gorgeous you are and how amazing you were tonight?” he asks, trailing sweet kisses down my neck and along my collarbone.
“Serge,” I whisper, unable to raise any solidity to my voice.
“Yeah?’ he whispers back against my skin, making me shiver anew.
“Would you think less of me if I begged you to take me, here in the ladies’ room?”
A low groan rumbles through him and his teeth gently tug on my earring. Pulling back, he adjusts his trousers and dips his head. Looking up at me from under his darks brows, he squeezes his eyes shut.
Backing away, he takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t think less of you, no.”
“And yet you’re backing off?” I ask, missing his touch already; hungry for more.
Exhaling roughly, he nods.
“Care to explain?”
“Several reasons,” he says, as two women come through the door, giving him unimpressed glares as their eyes flit to me.
“This being one of them,” he says, nodding at the women and offering his hand for me to take.
I slip my hand in his and we leave the restroom.
“Ladies’ rooms are always so much nicer than the gents,” he says, nodding cordially to another lady as she tries to enter as we’re leaving. “But none of them are good enough for you. I won’t be loving you next to a public toilet, no matter how fancy the decor might be. I’d rather get you home so I can take my time with you where nobody is going to interrupt us.”
Sighing, I push my inner vixen back into her cage. “I guess I’ve already been embarrassed enough tonight anyway. No need to add caught shagging in the ladies’ to the list.”
Stopping, Serge frowns. “I’m sorry I pulled the badge.”
“You were right. I wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t.”
With a tight smile, he looks around. Some people are ignoring us, but others appear to be craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the outrageous couple that have emerged from the restroom.
“I’ll try to make it up to you,” he says, raising the hand he’s holding to his lips as he eyes the exits. “Can we leave?”
Shaking my head, I pull a face. “I can’t leave. I’m meant to be milking the crowd.”
Sighing, Serge leads me towards
the nearest tray toting waiter. “Then let’s get a drink.”
“Good idea.”
Taking two flutes from the tray, Serge squints at them. “What’s that in the bottom of them?” he asks the waiter.
“Wild hibiscus flowers, Sir. Preserved in a rose syrup and added to the glass at pouring.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Turning to me, Serge crosses his eyes as he hands me a glass, making me giggle. “Shall we start by squeezing some cash from the poor ladies I stole you from? Old Tiara Tina and her fur wearing friend?”
Nudging him with my elbow, I can’t hide my smile. “They already donated, but they might give more if we go and solve their mystery for them. They were very curious as to why you might be so interested in me, and I’m sure the cop card you pulled upped the ante some.”
“To the races,” he says with a pompous lilt, raising his glass to mine with a gentle clink before gulping down the lot.
“In a minute,” I say, holding him back and pulling him lower so I can speak quietly in his ear. “You said several reasons. Public toilets and being caught aside, was there anything else stopping you from bending me over and sinking yourself balls-deep?”
“Damn, Vi. Do you have to talk like that?” he says, looking around him, before staring at the ceiling and mumbling something about baseball, Mitch’s stinking dog and old ladies drinking tea.
Snorting, I press the back of my hand to my mouth to keep from losing my mouthful of bubbles. “What are you doing?” I whisper, as he continues to avoid me.
“Thinking unsexy things, because - fuck. Now I have to start again. Shh.”
Laughing, I stand in front of him, keeping him covered. “If you wanted it that bad you should’ve just done it.”
“Not helping,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Just strap it into your belt,” I suggest, giggling into my drink. “And answer the question.”
Looking down at me he gives a resigned sigh. “I want to be sure this means as much to you as it does to me. Sex in a public restroom doesn’t tell me that. I don’t want to be hurt again either, Vi.”
Watching him a while, I give him a slow smile. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have given up what I wanted in order to make sure you were happy.”
“What you wanted?”
“You, stupid. I knew going in that Gina was the star, so I gave up being with you, thinking she was what you wanted. It wasn’t easy, and pushing you away was survival. I love you too, Power Serge.” Stepping in close, I pull his lips to mine, intent on convincing him.
“We can’t take you guys anywhere,” Bruno grunts from beside us. “Vi, can you please stop sucking face and get back to work? You and Nina are the only ones that understand these people. We can’t do it without you. And congratulations, by the way,” he adds, patting Serge on the back. “Well played. The badge thing was mint. I’d bet Benji you would break into dance yourself by the end of the night if you hadn’t gotten through to her, so good job on sparing us from that.” Laughing as he walks away, Bruno leaves us staring at each other.
Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I try to catch my breath. “You got that situation of yours under control?”
Looking at me as if I’m mad, the color in Serge’s cheeks deepens. “You kidding?” Leaning to my ear, he speaks in a hushed tone. “What part of you loving me, kissing me and pressing that gorgeous body against me was meant to deflate my boner? Your nipples are practically pinning me in place, demanding attention and I can’t think beyond sucking those sweet cherries while my hands go crazy on you. Fuck.” Staring at the ceiling again, his grip tightens on my hips to keep me in front of him as he mutters things like ‘dog drool’ and ‘athlete’s foot’.
“Act natural,” I say, leading him toward a large sculpture. “Isn’t this beautiful?” I ask him as we skirt around the small group near it. “I wonder what the other side looks like.”
Pulling him after, me, I spin to face him. Dipping a hand into his pants I stroke him a few times before tucking his erection tidily under his belt and making sure his shirt keeps him covered.
“Thanks for the help,” he says with sarcasm.
Smiling, I straighten my dress a little. “My pleasure. Don’t feel alone in your torture,” I say leaning forward to whisper. “If you were to check me right now, your fingers would drown in the flood.”
Taking a deep breath, I curse him for smelling so good and groan at the ache inside me. “It’s going to be a really long night.”
Walking away, I look over my shoulder. The hunger in Serge’s eyes is enough to make me squirm on the spot. Shooting him a helpless smile, I wade back into the pool of wealth, wondering who to target first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SERGE
Violet walked away, the gentle curve of her hips swaying hypnotically and furthering his discomfort. Sighing Serge checked he was contained and allowed himself the enjoyment of watching her full skirt flowing with each movement as the silky material lay flush against her slender frame. She looked delicate and yet strong. The open back of her dress displayed perfect, smooth skin that highlighted the subtle lines of every defined muscle.
Every step was graceful, as though planned in advance and she moved through the crowd with a comfortable ease that he’d noticed none of her friends seemed to feel. These were her people. At least they used to be; before they betrayed her.
Sighing, Serge looked around for a familiar face and spotted Rick and Gina over by the bar. Perfect.
Ordering a beer, he sipped from the frosted glass as he came to stand next to his friends.
“I see you found Violet,” Gina teased, nudging him with her elbow as she grinned at him. “And things obviously went well.”
“Did you tell her you love her?” Rick asked, his level of excitement almost on par with a schoolgirl asking the same question.
“I did,” he admitted quietly, feeling his cheeks warm.
“And?” he asked, literally bouncing on his toes.
“And she loves me back,” Serge replied, unable to keep from grinning. “Damn I wish we didn’t have to be here right now,” he said, following Violet with his eyes as he drank his beer.
Gina laughed at him. “Like you told me, a little longer won’t kill you.”
“I was wrong. It might kill me. I’m pretty sure I’m dying slowly right now. You think if I fainted and she rushed over to assist, we could escape under the guise of some medical emergency?”
Rick chuckled and shook his head. “Not when she’s already given you mouth to mouth.”
Taking another sip of his beer, Serge sighed. Violet looked his way and his heart beat a little faster in his chest. Giving him a playful smile, she licked her lips and gave him a wink before turning her attention back to a well-dressed elderly couple.
“She’s definitely going to kill me,” he muttered, turning back to Rick and Gina. Watching him a moment, they looked at each other and cracked up.
“This is better than the show!” Rick said, slapping his thigh and taking another drink.
“I think so too!” the woman in the tiara said, leaning between them and offering her hand. “Estelle Swanson. I simply must know the story of how a classy girl like Ms. Wheeler became so adorably ensnared by such a handsome officer of the law. I’ll wager it’s a real hoot.”
Serge lowered his beer, choking a little. Studying the woman’s face, he shrugged. “How much is the story worth?” he asked, glancing at Gina. “Another hefty donation to this worthy cause?”
Estelle hid her laugh behind her hand. “Oh I see. You and she both favor the less fortunate. Did you meet at a charity event like this one?”
“Actually, she was being charitable and I chased her down the street and tackled her to the ground,” he teased, refusing to give her anymore information until she got her checkbook out again.
By the time he finished giving a highly, censored version of their story, using Rick and Gina as props when they were mentioned, Serge had a
small crowd listening.
“That’s quite the tale, Mister...?”
Turning in the direction of the voice, Serge found himself looking into the eyes of an older, but very well-maintained, brunette dressed in black.
“Moretti. Sergio Moretti,” he said, taking a well-deserved drink of a fresh beer.
“How very... Italian,” she said, regarding him with interest. “So you aren’t in the least bit interested in my daughter’s fortune, Mr. Moretti?”
Covering his mouth as he sprayed beer from it, Serge coughed himself back into form. “Excuse me?”
Studying her face, he saw vague similarities to Violet’s. Brushing a few droplets of beer-spit from her bare shoulder, the woman glared at him.
“I was asking if you were after Violet’s money,” she repeated.
“Of course he’s not,” Gina said, stepping forward. “Serge has plenty of his own, despite his modesty about it.”
Serge held up his hand to quiet her.
“You’re Violet’s mother?”
Primping her hair and looking around the group, the woman straightened and offered her hand. “Eloise von Haagen,” she said proudly.
Serge stared at her hand, but didn’t take it. Narrowing his eyes at the woman, he stepped closer, so only she would hear him.
“It happened.”
Excusing himself from the group, he walked away before he did something terrible. Unclenching his fist, he finished his beer and scanned the room for Violet, finding her laughing politely with a few pompous old coots, including the Monopoly man. He wondered if she even knew her mother was here.
“What was that about?” Rick asked as he arrived next to Serge.
Serge shook his head as he thought how to share the information. “I can’t tell you,” Serge said, taking a glass of bubbles from a passing waiter and downing it in one gulp, weird flower and all.
Rick looked over his shoulder to where Gina was still smoothing things over. “Is she the one who hurt Vi?” he asked, ever the perceptive one.
“No, but she is the one who chose to protect the predators instead of her own daughter,” Serge replied, taking another full glass, switching it with his empty one. Continuing to watch Violet, he sipped his drink more slowly, forcing the fingers of his free hand to unfurl, he kept them moving to keep them from fisting again.