Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  And she knows it.

  “Just when I was ready to agree with your plan, you act like this. You’re no fun.” Pilar mock pouts. “You’ve become awfully serious lately.”

  “I have to be. Look, Pilar.” I lean across the table, wanting her to see just how damn serious I am. “I can’t afford to fuck around anymore. I want that promotion. I want the fuck out of here. We start pulling too many people into this and actually … hurt someone, the CEO’s daughter for Christ’s sake—it’s too damn risky.”

  “Oh, it’ll be fun. And like you care about Violet’s feelings. When has she ever done anything for you? She usually looks at you like you’re a piece of dirty, sticky gum on the bottom of her shoe.”

  Pilar’s probably right. Doesn’t matter, though. I may be a user, but the idea of pushing Violet over the edge doesn’t sit well.

  Guess I have some morals after all.

  “I don’t know …” I start, but she cuts me off.

  “Please. You can’t do this for me?” She waves a hand, dismissing my words. Since when did this plan turn into her project? “After I took you in. Gave you a job when you had nothing. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

  Fuck. I know. She’s told me often enough.

  “You owe me,” Pilar continues. “I loaned you money.”

  “I paid you back, didn’t I?” Freaking tenfold, I want to add but don’t.

  “I saved your life,” she reiterates. “Come on. I think your idea sounds fun. Everyone gets what they want.”

  Fun. The idea is much more than just fun. “Meaning me and you,” I say.

  “Darling, we are the only ones who count in this world. If we can’t look after each other, then no one else will.” She reaches across the table and settles her hand on top of mine. “Come on, my darling, sweet boy. Do this for me—do this for you—and we can ensure each other’s climb at Fleur. I guarantee it.”

  How the hell can she guarantee anything? I’m not the same gullible kid I was when she first found me. “Knock it off, Pilar,” I mutter, sliding my hand from beneath hers.

  I swear I feel Violet’s eyes on me, watching me. Judging me. Little prude. She probably thinks I’m a complete jackass, when she’s the one inviting the biggest asshole on the planet into her bed every night.

  Makes me wonder how she is in bed. Uptight? Prim and closed off? Lawrence probably has to pry her thighs open with a crowbar to get in there and then she dissolves into tears every time they have sex.

  Sounds like a nightmare to me.

  Yet I’m still hard as a rock just thinking about it.

  Which means … I should do this. Fuck it. What have I got to lose? And if it all comes together as planned, I have everything to gain. Everything.

  “If I do this …” I start, lowering my voice. The excitement that flares in Pilar’s eyes fuels my own. “If I fuck her … play with her for a while, we have to be discreet. Meaning you have to keep quiet.”

  Pilar nods, her eyes going wide. “I can do that.”

  “You fuck Lawrence and cause them to break up, but don’t make a huge scene. Then we get him the hell out of Fleur,” I say, laying it all out. “I console Violet, we become closer. I prove to her father that I’m perfect for the London job and he has no choice but to promote me. I leave Violet behind, devastated that I broke up with her so harshly, and then she’ll need to—go away for a while to recover. That’s when you slide in and take over her responsibilities.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she croons, her hand covering mine once more, her foot sliding along my leg. My cock twitches to life, both from Pilar’s actions and the challenge of the hunt, the chance at the prize.

  Fucking Violet Fowler and getting a promotion in London, away from Pilar? I couldn’t ask for anything better.

  “After her, this is it, though. No more games. We remain friends only, Pilar. That’s all,” I add.

  The smile on Pilar’s face diminishes, but I can still see the glow in her eyes. She loves it when I talk like this because she thinks I don’t mean it. This time, though, I do. “Fine. Whatever you want, darling. It’ll be fun. We can compare notes.”

  I don’t say a word as she scoots her chair closer to mine, her hand gripping my shoulder as her gaze goes to my lap. “You know, you can act like I’m the one who selected Violet as your latest conquest, but remember it was your idea. I suspect you’ve wanted her for a while,” she whispers, reaching out to settle her hand on my dick. “So pretend all you want that hard-on of yours isn’t for her.”

  I take a deep breath, tell myself to remain calm. “It isn’t. It’s all for you,” I lie smoothly. My life is fucking chaos. I don’t need Pilar making it more of a mess than it already is and she knows how. That’s the scary part. “So you’ll start in on Lawrence tomorrow?”

  She arches a perfectly sculpted brow, removing her hand. I swear my cock breathes a sigh of relief. “And you’ll start in on Violet?”

  “Yes.” I take a deep breath, pushing aside the uneasy feeling that wants to take over. “But then … like I said, that’s it. We’re done. I go my way and you go yours. My debt to you is paid in full.”

  “All right.” The smile returns, darker this time, her eyes lit with an unfamiliar fire that makes me wary. “Then we’d better make this interesting, shouldn’t we?”

  “As interesting as we fucking can.” I shift in my seat and her hand falls away from me, thank Christ.

  My gaze wanders yet again to Violet and Zachary’s table, but they’re gone. They’ve just left, Zachary heading toward the entrance of the restaurant, Violet going in the opposite direction, most likely to the restroom.

  “I should go after her,” I suggest, never taking my eyes off of her. God, she’s beautiful. I want her.

  Though I shouldn’t.

  “Yes, you should. Now shoo.” She waves her hands, as if she’s a mama duck pushing me out of the nest for the very last time. “Work your McKay magic all over her and I’ll go find Zachary.”

  Without another word, I stand and wind my way through the tables, following the path Violet just took. It’ll be a game. A little fun. How long will it take to make her fall for me?

  I’ve done it before and I can do it again. I know how to play the game. Be what she wants me to be. I’m a chameleon. Been told that since I was a kid. “Adaptable” is a much nicer way to put it.

  A phony. A fake is the more honest term for what I do. I own every title. After all …

  I’m practically a professional.

  Chapter Three

  Violet

  I lied when I told Zachary I wasn’t upset about his leaving but I put on a brave face, something I’ve become exceptional at doing. Just when I believe things are going my way, news is delivered that’s like a punch to my stomach. But I’m a survivor, not weak, or at least so I’ve been told again and again. Now it’s all about my game face. That’s what Father calls it.

  Like life is one big game. Who thinks like that? Who actually lives like that?

  Just as the waiter took away our plates, Zachary told me he would drop me off at my apartment. “Too much to do,” he murmured with that reassuring smile of his pasted on his face. So phony. Why do I believe his lies? Am I that insecure? “My only chance to start packing is at night, after work. I leave in less than two weeks. You understand, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  Of course I understand. I’m the perfect girlfriend who stands by her man and lets him do whatever he wants. Including letting him leave her while he attempts to take on a new and glamorous job in another country. He’ll most likely go find a new and glamorous woman, too.

  He’s done it before … though never out of the country. So that’ll be a new adventure for him. One I’m supposed to ignore and pretend doesn’t exist.

  The telltale stinging in my eyes lets me know I need to get out of there so I can be alone. Zachary would be embarrassed if I cried. He’d probably tell Father, and I can’t … I can’t let him know that I’m upset. I’m fine. I’m c
omposed. I’m happy.

  I’m perfect.

  So when the tiny imperfection tries to slip through in the form of tears, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. Hide away in a stall so no one can see me as I lean against the wall with my face buried in my hands, the tears streaming freely down my cheeks. I only allow myself approximately ninety seconds of crying, though. Any more and my cheeks would turn ruddy, my eyes bloodshot. Zachary would know what I was doing.

  And I can’t have that.

  I keep Visine in my purse for moments like this and after I exit the stall, I go to the row of sinks to wash my hands and assess myself in the mirror. I look … like I’ve been crying. My cheeks are a little rosy, my eyes damp and with a tinge of pink. I dry my hands and reach into my purse, grabbing the eye drops so I can take care of the problem. I’m always ready for any situation. My sisters love it. They make fun of all the things I have in my bag, but I like to be prepared.

  The drops go in easily and I blink, then grab a tissue and dab at my eyes. My skin is still flushed, so I splash cold water on my face and dry off, then grab my Fleur Cosmetics Perfect Pressed Powder and dab at my cheeks, taking the redness out. A slick of Lickable Lip Gloss in Macadamia Nut on my lips and I finally look presentable, ready to face the world. Face Zachary.

  Despite my anger, I know I need to cherish these last few days with him before he leaves, but my stomach hurts when I think about how he and Father kept this from me when I could have known weeks ago. I could have prepared myself. Instead, he blindsided me.

  Get over it. Be strong. You can go on without him. This is temporary. It’s not like he broke up with you. All sorts of couples manage through a long-distance relationship.

  They do. I can. Zachary loves me in his own special way. He needs me, but he also needs to do this to further his career. Otherwise, he’ll resent me forever.

  Taking a deep breath, I slip my Chanel bag over my shoulder and exit the bathroom, stopping short when I see a man standing in the darkened hallway, almost as if he was waiting for me. His face is in shadows but I recognize his build, the way he holds himself. Confident, with that arrogant tilt of his head and those incredibly broad shoulders.

  It’s Ryder McKay.

  “Well, well, well. Violet Fowler, how are you this evening?” His rumbly deep voice washes over me as he steps out of the shadows, tall and imposing and handsome as sin.

  I take a step back, not wanting him in my personal space, but he invades it anyway. “Mr. McKay,” I say politely, not daring to call him by his first name. That would imply I know him, that we’re friends or at the very least friendly coworkers, and we’re neither of those things. He may work at Fleur, but I rarely speak to him. I don’t have to, and besides …

  There’s something about all that edgy darkness and how it radiates from him. He demands attention without saying a word, and there’s an air of danger that surrounds him, that ensnares me despite my reluctance to be near him. The innate sexuality that he represents … it scares me.

  He scares me.

  “I’ve worked at Fleur long enough for you to call me Ryder, don’t you think?” He pauses for a heavy beat and the air seems to fill with electricity as I wait for him to speak. “You don’t mind that I call you Violet, do you?”

  He somehow makes my name sound like a sexual promise. I take another step back and my butt hits the wall. He smiles, and I know he knows I’ve realized I’m trapped. “Of course you can call me Violet,” I say, thankful my voice isn’t shaking. I have no idea what to say to him, how to act. “Did you have a nice dinner?”

  He grins. “Why yes, I did, thank you for asking. The view was spectacular.” His gaze slides down the length of me, taking me all in. My breasts, my stomach, my hips, my legs, lingering on my feet before moving back up, his gaze once more on mine. “The food was good, too.”

  My cheeks heat, but it’s not from the leftover tears. It’s the way he looks at me, his gaze so bold, like he wants to devour me. His mention of the view is in reference to me. As if he’s somehow attracted to me.

  I don’t believe it. He’s just trying to unnerve me with his not-so-subtle flirting. And it’s working.

  “How’s Zachary?” Ryder asks when I still haven’t answered.

  I jolt, giving myself a little shake. Zachary. I need to remember that my boyfriend is outside waiting for the car. Waiting for me. “Fine,” I say as I step away from the wall. But that only brings me closer to Ryder and he doesn’t budge. I can smell him. His scent is as dark and alluring as he is. “I should go. He’s waiting—”

  “I hear he’s leaving for London.” The expression on Ryder’s handsome face is all polite sympathy, but with a hint of mockery in his dark blue eyes. He doesn’t like Zachary and the feeling is mutual. Zachary complains about him all the time. I’m sure Ryder’s thrilled that Zachary is leaving. “Trying out for a promotion, correct? I’m sure you’re proud of him.”

  Proud of him? I should be. And seriously, did everyone know this bit of news but me? “H-how did you hear?” I press my lips together, angry that I let the little stutter slip. I need to remain composed, especially in the face of this particular man.

  He’s a shark. I know he takes advantage of the weak and gobbles them up. I’ve heard the stories. And those stories are more than half the reason Father is so pleased that he works at Fleur. Father admires a shark. It’s why he loves Zachary so much, too, though Zachary is much smoother in his … predatory approach to business.

  “My dinner partner told me the good news.” He inclines his head when he notes my confusion. “I’m here with Pilar.”

  “Oh.” Pilar. How could I forget? His relationship, his usual aloofness—it’s all such a mystery. Hardly anyone knows much about him, but they all want to learn more. At the moment, though, he’s being downright friendly with me.

  “Yes.” He smiles, and it’s so dazzling I feel like I’m momentarily blinded. “Oh.”

  “How is Pilar?” I ask, being polite when I realize he seems to be waiting for a response. He still hasn’t moved out of my way and I inhale discreetly, taking in his sharp, masculine scent. I let my gaze linger on him for a long moment as he looks down at the floor, as if he’s savoring a personal joke. His eyelashes are long and thick, casting shadows upon his cheekbones, and my belly flutters when he glances up, his intense gaze meeting mine.

  “She’s well. Up to her usual tricks.” The smile that curls the corners of his lips tells me he is in on the joke and I am definitely not. “I should probably go check on her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s waiting at the front for her car. We rode together.” His smile grows. “I wanted to come back here and check on you.”

  I frown. “Check on me?”

  He shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders encased in fine Italian charcoal wool. “You seemed upset.”

  Really? Does that mean Zachary noticed too? He never said anything to me. I practically broke down in front of him at our table and he never uttered a word of concern.

  “From the way you leapt up from the table, I had a feeling that Zachary just delivered the news.” Ryder takes another step forward, reaching out to settle his big hand on my upper arm, giving it a brief, somewhat innocent squeeze.

  My reaction to his touch is anything but innocent. That squeeze swims through my blood, settling like a pulse between my legs.

  “We’re fine. Really.” I step out of his touch, then move to the side so I can get past him. I hurry down the hall, as far away from Ryder as I can get, when he speaks.

  “And you? Are you fine, Violet?”

  I pause and close my eyes, fighting the tears that threaten yet again. What’s wrong with me? Why do I want to cry at something stupid Ryder McKay just said? It makes no sense. My reaction to this man makes absolutely zero sense.

  “I’m perfect.” I turn to find him watching me, his hands slipped into his trouser pockets, his legs spread in a typical masculine stance.

  “Yes,” h
e says, his gaze roaming over me yet again. I’m tempted to fidget but keep myself still. “You are.” He looks like a warrior ready to stand down against the enemy, tall and powerful with an arrogant curl to his upper lip, his eyes glittering in the dim light.

  “Thank you for your concern,” I add, frowning at my ridiculous graciousness. I need to walk away. His presence completely throws me.

  “Anytime. Always so polite, aren’t you,” he murmurs, his voice drifting toward me, soft and sexy. “I hate to see such a beautiful woman so upset.”

  My knees wobble at his casual compliment. When was the last time Zachary said something like that to me? Called me beautiful? Such a simple word, but it carries so much power. “You flatter me,” I murmur in return.

  “I speak the truth.” He steps forward, drawing close once more. “May I escort you outside?”

  Ryder offers his arm and I have no choice but to accept. As he said, I am always, above anything else, polite. So I slip my arm through his, around his elbow, and he leads me through the restaurant toward the entrance. I try to ignore the hummingbirds fluttering their wings within my belly. Try to ignore the heat that radiates off him, inviting me to snuggle closer.

  I smile, barely able to hold back the laugh that wants to escape. Snuggle is not a word I would use when talking about Ryder. I’m sure no woman has ever wanted to merely snuggle with him. He’s far too intimidating.

  “You’re laughing,” he says, his lips at my ear as he bends his head toward mine. A shiver moves through me when I feel his warm breath caress my skin. “Do you find me that amusing?”

  The man notices everything. It’s rather unnerving. “I wasn’t laughing,” I counter. “Just smiling at someone I know.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” That low hum rumbles from his chest, the sound knowing. As if he’s confident he’s caught me in a lie.

  Which he has.

  Ryder opens the door for me and I step out into the bitter-cold air. Zachary is standing on the curb in front of our car, Pilar standing in front of him, her hand on his chest as they both laugh.