by Celia Crown
I thought I was going back alone, but Aiden followed. He was behind me all that time, and I hadn’t noticed his imposing body until I glance over my shoulder.
I can only avoid so many heart attacks, and he is not even the slightest guilty of scaring me.
“What are you doing here? You need your beauty sleep for tomorrow,” I said as I make a shooing motion with my hands.
“I am not spending another night without you,” he slants his lips over mine and my knees literally knock together.
“I-I’m not sleeping with you!” I squeak in embarrassment; my cheeks are warming up swiftly.
We are still in the grey area if he hadn’t noticed!
“We don’t have to do anything. I just want to hold you,” he murmurs on my lips.
As I have said, I am weak against him.
“Just sleeping, nothing hinky.”
He chuckles, “Not yet.”
Chapter Eight
Aiden
Tomorrow is the last day in Bora Bora, and it’s a shame that I haven’t seen Violet have much fun.
She works too much, concentrates too hard, and doubts herself too much. Violet doesn’t need validation; she is the best photographer that has created magical outcomes before.
I am biased, but I have been in the industry for a long time to know the little secrets. The pictures all come out in a way that makes my heart leap out of my chest; the pictures turn out the exact thing her eyes have caught interest.
“I can send you my masseuse within an hour,” Thomas offers graciously with a smile to Violet.
She laughs awkwardly, shaking her head with a wince on her smile. “I’ll just stay in for the day and sleep off this soreness.”
“Did our dear Aiden keep you up last night?” Thomas wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I have been sleeping in her bungalow for the trip, and she’s not complaining too much. She complains when I limit her daily dosage of strawberry milk. She found out that I had a crate of them in my cottage and accused me of being stingy.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Aiden wasn’t in my cottage yesterday, or any other day, you’re dreaming—”
I knead the back of her neck, “Stop talking. You’re not helping your argument.”
She shuts her mouth obediently, squinting her eyes accusingly, and points a finger to my chest. “You’re supposed to help me.”
“We do sleep together. I don’t see the problem of letting them know.”
“We are not sleeping together,” she squeaks.
“Everyone sees us going back together. They have already drawn up assumptions—ow,” I say flatly as she punches me in the chest.
Violet huffs, “That didn’t hurt at all.”
“It didn’t,” I said impassively, taking hold of her tiny fist into mine.
This way, she can’t hurt herself from slamming her fist into my chest. She’ll break her bones before she could make me wince.
I go back to kneading her neck, the straining muscles there are hurting her when I press down just a bit harder. Her face contorts into pain, and she shudders as she tries to move away.
We’re finishing up breakfast as Violet drinks the milk that she had made me give her when she used her puppy-dog eyes. It’s hard for me to say no to her in general, but when she looks so hopeful, I had to give it to her.
Originally, my place was to have her finish breakfast before she drinks it. Plans are meant to be broken anyway; I don’t regret giving into her happiness when she beams so prettily at me.
I should stop enabling her; the amount of drinks she takes in one day is concerning. It is milk; it’s good for her bones. Heaven knows she needs all the help she can get when it comes to her body, the body that likes to destroy itself with peach allergy and a weak immune system.
“Sweetheart,” I call for her, and she lowers the carton of milk to pay attention to me.
The two pieces of French toast drenched in maple syrup are left forgotten on her plate, “What?”
“Were you sick when I was absent?”
I wasn’t gone; I was only temporarily away for both our benefits. One of the horrible things about the bodyguard’s service was that he doesn’t report everything that happens to Violet, only any immediate things that require my attention.
“Nope,” she answers so hurriedly that it’s suspicious.
“You were,” I glare down at her head. She hums nonchalantly with a nervous tick at the corner of her mouth.
“How many times?” I reach down to squeeze her soft thigh.
Her knees jerk and her gorgeous green eyes widen in panic, “I-it was just a cold—”
“How many times?” I repeat, a tone of dominance as I force her shaking knee to stay still.
“Two times…” she licks her lips to catch the drop of milk, but it’s another nervous gesture.
“Even I know you’re lying,” Thomas comments.
“Tommy, you’re not helping!” Violet hushes him.
He bats his fake lashes at her, “You’re not helping yourself to a hot guy’s offer!”
“He’s not offering anything!” Violet grouchily sips her milk, and I scratch the delicate skin of her inner thigh. She tries to kick my hand away.
“Read between the lines,” Thomas says with a neutral tone.
She curls her eyebrows and dives down to my hand, lightly tapping it to stop massaging her thigh. I knead harder, and she chokes in surprise.
“I can’t read between the lines,” Violet murmurs lowly, pouting through the carton of milk.
“You literally can’t; it’s why you fell down the stairs,” Thomas remarks offhandedly as if it’s a common occurrence.
The leg under my palm tightens. Her entire body freezes as her hand trembles with the drink. A spark of anger burns in my stomach, and I calmly take the milk away from her hand to set it on the white cloth table. She subtly moves away from me, but I keep her ass on the bench. Her other side is the wall, and she will have to get through me to leave this conversation, and it’s going to turn into an interrogation once I grill her about the incident.
How dare she keep something that serious from me? Granted, I wasn’t there, and I couldn’t be there to help her, but she should tell me these things.
“Don’t you have a Jerry to chase, Tom?” Violet scrunches her nose.
“Jokes on you. Jerry isn’t a mouse like you. He’s not going anywhere,” Thomas laughs.
I don’t care who Jerry is; the only focus my brain has is to dig out the story from Violet.
“Talk,” I demand with a growl vibrating in my chest.
She swallows with a shaky laugh, “It’s not really that interesting.”
Thomas clears his vocals, “Let me do the honors.”
Violet sniffs, “I rather you not.”
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all.”
She counters back, “It’s going to be trouble for me.”
I remind her with a squeeze to her thigh, “You’re already in trouble.”
Violet smartly remains quiet as I nod towards the fashion designer. He adjusts his sunglasses on his head and smacks his glossed lips. I can feel the anxiety rolling off Violet’s small frame, she’s trembling, and her face conveys a plead to Thomas, who has manic glee in his eyes.
The man is pure evil when he cackles.
“On a rainy day of April showers, one beautiful girl named Violet—”
She moves, and Thomas winces, “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Don’t be mean. You didn’t have to kick me,” he sniffs haughtily, “What if you bruised my newly-waxed legs?”
She rolls her eyes, “You don’t bruise easily, you said that.”
Thomas murmurs something under his breath, “Be quiet, I’m telling a story here.”
“Get to the point,” I said as I have little patience for childish things, and Thomas is treading on the line dangerously.
I know I’m not the most approachable man, and it’s evident by the
startled expression Thomas has. Taking my hand away from her thigh, I settle on the nape of her neck to secure her in her pace. She will crawl under the table to get away from me if she can, but she is aware that I’m stronger and faster than her, so I will catch her before she can duck her head.
“Dearest Violet was just getting over her cold. The poor flower was sick for so long that I was going to force her to the emergency room,” Thomas sighs, tapping his chin with the napkin.
The piece of bacon crumb falls from the napkin and onto his lap.
“I told her not to work for the rest of the week, but she’s so stubborn.”
I drop my hand from her neck to her waist, tugging her unenthusiastic frame to my side and keep her there with one arm looped firmly to her side.
“I think she was too focused on the camera that she didn’t realize there was a flight of stairs, and that’s how she fell.”
Thomas puts the back of his hand to his forehead, “God knows how she didn’t break her bones from that tumble.”
“Thanks to the calcium from milk,” Violet adds, but I silence her with a swat to her hip.
“More curious thing is the camera was in perfect condition,” Thomas’s eyes shine with bewilderment as his tone backs up his confusion.
I don’t care about the camera or anything for that matter; the only reason why I’m angry is that she was hurt, and I wasn’t there to protect her. It’s my fault that she isn’t taking care of herself when I told her that I would be the one to look after her.
I promised her that she never has to worry about anything and just do what she loves, but I was the dumbass that left without fully thinking of the consequences that come after.
What I did didn’t just affect me; it affected Violet more than I thought.
That’s wrong. In the back of my mind, I always knew the risk of leaving her alone.
One conversation would have cleaned up the misunderstandings, and none of this could have happened.
I was selfish, and now I’m overthinking things.
I never overthink. I regard my choices with enough common sense to choose the right one. I tell Violet that she overthinks, and I never knew why she does it, but I understand it now. It’s the insecurities and doubts. I hate feeling like I have less confidence in myself.
I’m afraid that she’s never going to forgive me.
“Aiden?”
I take in a deep breath, “Take a walk with me.”
She cocks her head but takes my hand when I offer it to her as I get up from the bench. The waves crash below us, and the faint gleam of the sun reflects off the turquoise water.
Thomas hums, “I’ll help myself to your French toast.”
Violet is confused, and I can feel that gaze on my back as I lead her out of the restaurant. The morning shades from the trees help with the strong sunlight.
The only place where we can have absolute privacy is either my cottage or her bungalow. I head to her place. I have been sleeping there anyway so there is nothing wrong with returning to our room.
She asks from behind, “Is something wrong?”
I grunt a nonverbal confirmation; the trip is almost over, and I want her to know where we stand, and it is also for me to hold onto her. She is mine. She has been mine for a long time, and I will not let some misunderstanding and past mistakes to tear us apart.
I love her too much, and I’m not afraid to admit that it is a damn near obsession.
“Miss. Violet?”
A tremor runs through my fingers, and I stop myself just in time to not crush her hand in mine. I didn’t say it, and Violet isn’t that weird to call herself that, and it’s a man’s voice. That already sets a round of warnings in my head; it sounds too intimate for my comfort.
I spin around, dragging her body to mine as I wrap my arm around her shoulder. She instinctually hooks her arm around my waist, and her arm is too short to grasp my side, so she holds the back of my shirt.
There are a man and a woman in front of us. Their body language shows that they know each other on more than the professional level as I somewhat recognize the woman. I can’t recall her name, but it’s that disgusting curl of her lips that irks me.
The man is the source of my irritation. He looks too smug for someone who is on vacation. His whole demeanor gets my skin crawling with unpleasantries.
“Um, hello?” Violet greets them.
The man smiles; that boyish charm is clear as day. “What a coincidence, Miss. Violet. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Violet push her body closer to mine, “Oh, I’m here for work.”
He shakes his head, “Oh, that’s a shame. It’s a great vacation spot.”
“It is…” she laughs gawkily.
She is uncomfortable with this man, and I am uncomfortable with the looks the woman is giving me. Her vulture stare sets off another bell in my head, and I can’t place where I have seen her, but I know her from somewhere.
“I have been here for a week now, and it has been wonderful,” the man continues.
“That’s great,” Violet comments.
“I can show you around when you’re finished with work. What do you say?”
She clears her throat, “Oh, um—”
“She’s busy,” I said pointedly, “We have some place to be, excuse us.”
I nod my head as a farewell to these two, and just as I’m about to turn around with Violet, the woman speaks up.
“Aiden.”
Violet tenses in my arm, and I soothe the soft skin under my palm.
The woman bats her lashes and waltz up to us, “Are you not going to kiss me?”.
I pin her to a stop with my glare. She has some brain cells to see the danger lurking in my eyes. I do not want this woman anywhere near Violet and me; she emits nothing but trouble.
“Who the hell are you?”
She chuckles behind her hand; the shade of purple on her lips looks like she got poisoned, but her skin tone works with that shade.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos to Violet with the name only I can call her, “Didn’t he tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Violet asks with knotted eyebrows.
“He is such a naughty man, isn’t he,” the woman humors herself with another laugh, “Playing games and pitying you.”
I move my arm up and tip her chin to make her look at me; the emotions swimming in her eyes are brimming with a layer of glossiness. She’s not in tears yet, but she’s getting close as the woman continues to talk nonsense.
“Don’t listen to her, sweetheart,” I murmur, kissing her forehead and turning her back to my chest so she can hide her face.
No one can see her like this, that vulnerable expression that brings me to my knees.
“Didn’t you know, I’m his girlfriend,” the woman props her hand on her hips, and the sheer white cover-up blows with the wind.
I freeze as the pieces start to come back to me. This is the same woman who was supposed to be the publicity stunt of being a couple with me, getting set up by the agencies to boost sales. She’s the same woman that I met for a split five seconds, and I never saw her again.
Violet stops shaking; her shoulders drop, and she sighs in my chest. It’s soft, and I almost missed it through the flushing waves below the deck.
“I know,” she said as she looks at the woman.
My stomach drops at that. What does she mean she knows? Violet doesn’t look too bothered by it, and it makes me irritated, angry that she sees herself as a girl that I’m going to toss aside.
I can read her better than she can understand herself, and this is unacceptable. There is no place in her pretty little head to think that she is any less important to me because of some publicity stunt. I have never touched another woman; the only one that I want is Violet.
My heart has always been with her, and my body shows because I turn down all the photoshoots with women. I don’t care about the money or the angry agency. I don’t want Violet to ever see a set of pictur
es and think that I left because she wasn’t good enough.
I’m the one that doesn’t deserve her. She’s pure and kind; I love how she puts others before herself, and I want her to love herself as much as I love her.
Enough is enough.
I untangle her hand from my back and throw her over my shoulder; her puff of air gets knocked out as she scrambles to hold onto me. Her knees knock against my chest as I stomp off without saying anything else to the two strangers that ruined this day.
I hated everything about the interaction from the beginning. I hated the look on the man’s face when he talked to Violet because he looks like he got history with her, but she was clearly uncomfortable in his presence.
I hate the woman for being a wench and bring up the past that I forgot about and put Violet in a situation where she questioned herself. And, her face was smug when she saw the forlorn expression on my sweetheart’s face.
Not acceptable.
Violet shouldn’t look miserable. I need to amend that quickly before her overactive imagination spirals into more self-deprecating thoughts.
The water bungalow comes quickly, and I open the door with the key while Violet stays limply over my shoulder. My feet kick the door close, and I go to the bedroom to toss her on the bed. Her sandals had fallen somewhere in the bungalow as she scuttles up.
“I love you,” I said, lifting my shirt over my head and dropping it on the ground.
As predicted, her eyes zones into the ink on my skin.
“I love you so much,” I said again, crawling over her body and crashing my lips over hers.
She squeals in shock, moaning through the kiss while panting softly. I shove her down, and her head makes contact with the bed. She stays there while I hover over her.
“The agency thought that after my stunt with the contract, they figure it’s a way to get back at me. They set up the news about me dating that woman is all lies. I only met her once, and I never touched her,” I explain, peppering her cheek with my kisses.
“Really?” she murmurs quietly.
I look into those inquiring green eyes, “Yes. I only want to touch you, love you, and be with you.”