by Dani Rene
“Fine,” she sighs. “But keep it quiet, just for the first week or so. I just need to know if this is serious. If it is, we can renegotiate the terms with them.”
Nodding, I smile. “Thanks, Blythe.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I know she’s worried, but I believe she has no reason to be. This is where I’m meant to be, and Violet is who I’m meant to be taking this journey with. Even if it’s for a week or two. I know she’s someone I can connect with.
Now all I have to do is convince Violet of that.
10
Violet
It’s been twenty-four hours since the interview. After Colton left, he told me, no, he promised me he’d make me see he’s not who I thought he was, yes, he’s cocky and brazen, but I’m not sure how he’s going to change my mind on anything else. I’m definitely looking forward to him trying.
I open my browser and type in Ida’s website. When it opens, I click on the submissions and scroll through the letters posted this morning. I decide to ask her for advice.
Dear Ida,
I have a conundrum. There’s a guy … Doesn’t it always start like that? Anyway, he’s someone who has a reputation that precedes him, and not in a good way. I mean, yes, he’s lovely to look at, and I suppose that’s why he is so popular with the ladies. However, he’s now got his sights set on me, and I’m unsure how to proceed.
I like him, I admit I do. But, I’m afraid of getting hurt. My heart can’t take another heartbreak, and he’s far too perfect for me. I’m not his type I don’t think. No, actually, I know I’m not.
I don’t understand why he’s so enamored with me, but he promised me he was going to prove he’s nothing like his public persona.
My question then is—do I give him a chance?
Or do I run for the hills?
Frustrated in Manhattan
I hit send. As I sit back in my chair, the door flings open with a whoosh, and a delivery man strolls in carrying what looks like a dozen yellow roses. They’re absolutely beautiful, and I wonder briefly who Clarissa has been dating. She never mentioned anyone to me, and there’s nothing on her calendar that states otherwise.
Unless she has a secret admirer.
“Miss …” The man looks down at his delivery list, then smiles. “Miss Kennedy,” he says.
My mouth falls open in shock.
“Yes, um, that’s me,” I acknowledge.
He nods and smiles, handing me the clipboard to sign. Once I’ve handed it back to him, he hands me the bouquet and leaves. There’s a small card attached. Pulling it out, I open the envelope to find the note from Colton.
Colton: I’m not as bad as you think. Give me a chance.
I don’t know what to say or do with this, but I flop into my chair and grab the cell phone on my desk. I scroll through the contacts to find Colton’s number I added yesterday.
Should I call? Or should I text?
I opt for a text message because I have to be honest with myself—I’m nervous. I feel like a teenage girl who’s just gotten a gift from the quarterback in high school.
Violet: Roses. Classy and beautiful. Thank you.
I hit send before I have time to rethink the message. I take the bouquet to the small kitchen attached to Clarissa’s office and find the vase we normally use to put flowers in for board meetings. Filling it with water, I place the roses into the crystal holder and take it back to my space to set on the side of my desk.
They’re lovely. I catch myself smiling before I shake it off and focus on my laptop. As much as I try to work, I can’t because I keep checking my phone. This was the reason I wanted to stay single. I didn’t want the anticipation of 'is he going to call?' hanging over me all the time.
Opening my email, I find a few from Clarissa needing my immediate attention, and instead of looking at my iPhone screen, I flip it over and open the first mail.
I allow my mind to drift to the phone again but force myself back to the computer. The words blur, and I know my focus isn’t staying on the work I need to finish.
My email pings again, and I see a response from Ida. My heart races when I click on it to see what advice she has for me.
Dear Frustrated in Manhattan,
It seems you have quite a conundrum. What I would normally recommend is to run in the opposite direction since he does sound like trouble, but then again, I’m intrigued to hear how he’s going to prove himself to you. Most men are too afraid to step outside the norm to do that, so I would tell you to let him grovel before giving it up. You know what I mean …?
Who knows? He may be very different from what you thought he was. The media never paints a pretty picture of anyone in the spotlight. Surely, those rumors are just that. Unless he’s openly admitted to them.
Sit down, have a meal with him, make sure he knows it’s not a date, and learn who the man is instead of the face you see on magazines, or whatever platform this handsome face graces on the daily.
And let us know how the dinner goes.
She’s right. She always is.
Picking up my phone, I notice a message has come through. I glance at the time it was received, and I realize it was almost an hour ago. How did I miss it?
Opening the app, I tap the message and smile when I see his response.
Colton: My mother taught me well. And at times, I even listened to her. They will arrive every day for the next week, so I hope you have space.
What?
No way.
He could not have bought me a week’s worth of roses. I know he’s trying to win me over, but that’s going overboard. Sighing, I type out my response. Seconds after I hit send, my phone rings.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” he says, his tone light and carefree, and I picture him smiling. There are small creases in the corners of his eyes when he does, and I recall all the times he looked at me with those piercing, teal eyes.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I tell him.
He chuckles a low, throaty sound. “Of course, I did. I told you, Violet.” He pauses, and I can’t help but bask in the way he says my name. “You’re going to see that I’m not just some playboy looking for a good time. I would like one. I mean, when you’re ready.”
“And what makes you think I’m going to be ready?” I test him, but I can’t stop the smile from creeping on my face.
“Darling,” he says in his posh British accent. “You’ll be begging me to take you all the way to heaven and back.”
That makes me laugh out loud, and I glance behind me to make sure Clarissa isn’t standing at the door to her office glaring at me for being on my personal cell phone during work hours.
“Listen, I have to go,” I tell him in a hushed whisper.
“Dinner. Tomorrow. Seven o’clock.” His insistence doesn’t bother me this time. It actually makes me smile, and I’m considering my answer when he continues. “I’ll pick you up with one of those expensive car services, and I’ll have you chauffeured around the city.”
“I’ll let you know after work.” I rush my answer before I say goodbye and hang up. If I don’t, he’ll keep going until he wears me down. But I have a feeling nothing is going to stop Colton King from getting me to go on a date with him.
Dinner.
That’s all it is.
I don’t have to get naked, and he doesn’t either.
Easy enough.
Only, I know nothing’s ever as easy as I think it is.
The moment I walk into my apartment, I kick off my shoes and sigh, feeling the cool laminate flooring under my bare feet. It’s been a long day. After my call with Colton, all hell broke loose with Clarissa and her marketing team.
She called me into the meeting to take minutes. Even though I’m getting a promotion soon, I did it. Writing shorthand is not my forte, and I pray to god I can read what I wrote tomorrow when she asks me for the notes.
I really should’ve taken my iPad into the meeting, then I could’ve just recorded it. But my
mind wasn’t in the office; it was far away, on the other side of town, thinking about the shoot Colton was on.
I make a beeline for the kitchen, opening the fridge grabbing a bottle of wine that has been in there since last week. I uncork it, pouring myself a generous glass before heading into the living room.
On my couch, I think back to Ida’s advice. She’s been around since I can remember, and even though I’ve followed her advice to other people most of my life, I haven’t really thought about just how much I need her message.
Perhaps I should consider the offer Colton set on the table and lay down my own boundaries for our dinner. It’s not a date, just like Ida said. I set my glass on the coffee table and pick up my phone to let Colton know I’ll be joining him for dinner tomorrow.
I also make sure he knows—it’s not a date, just dinner.
Now all I need to figure out is what the hell I’m going to wear. I push to my feet and grab my laptop from my bag before sitting cross-legged on my couch and tapping out a response to Ida.
Dear Ida,
I’ve considered your advice. Thank you. I have agreed to a dinner date with the handsome fellow, who’s British I might add. His accent alone does wonders for my libido, but that’s another story altogether.
Since the dinner is tomorrow night, I was wondering what you think I should wear. I mean … He’s expecting a date, even though I told him it’s not, but I can’t deny that I’d like to feel pretty while sitting opposite him at a table.
I guess it’s more the fact that I know he could have any girl he wants. And that makes me less confident about me. Which I know you’ll probably shout at me for, but I feel nervous. I’m not sure why. But I do.
So, I’m thinking something classic—an LBD perhaps. It’s not overly sexy, yet it gives off a sensual and sophisticated look. Something I don’t always portray since I’m more of a sneakers and jeans kind of girl.
Nervous in Brooklyn
Once I hit send, I shut my laptop and sit back with my glass of wine. I hope the alcohol will help me calm down. But I know nothing will ease the nerves that are slowly twisting in my belly.
I tap out my yes to Colton, expecting him to call with a response, but my phone doesn’t ring, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s out at a nightclub with another girl.
My stomach tightens, and it’s no longer the nerves of the date, bothering me. It’s the fact that jealousy has taken hold of me. I have no claim on the man, he just someone I met a few times, and he’s offered to take me to dinner.
Nothing more.
Then why do I feel like it’s so much more?
11
Colton
By the time I fell into bed last night, I was knackered. Nothing made sense, and all I could think about was sleeping, wishing a certain beautiful woman was beside me. When I woke up this morning, I found a reply from Violet. I feel bad that I didn’t respond to her, but it was after one in the morning before I closed my eyes.
The coffee I’m currently holding doesn’t seem to be doing much to keep me awake, and I’m thankful I’m able to spend the day in bed if I need to. I open my messages and smile at her words.
Violet: Yes. Dinner, not a date. Nothing more than that.
She clearly wanted me to know she’s focused on eating, not me, which I will respect. For now. Her fire and sass do things to every inch of my body, like make me want to pin her against the goddamned wall and steal her lips with a kiss.
I wasn’t lying to her when I told her my mother taught me well. And when I lost her to cancer, I changed. I became colder, less affectionate. I focused solely on myself. Even Simon saw the flip in me, and he tried to give me advice, which only angered me.
I was a shitty friend for a long time until I realized that she wouldn’t want me to be an arsehole. My mother was loving, kind, and she brought me up to be a good man. Even though she hasn’t been around for a good six years, I try to make her proud by making sure my career is my main priority. The only thing I can’t show her is that I’m happy with a beautiful woman.
My dad died when I was younger. A mining accident. And my mother raised me singlehandedly. She was everything to me, and I know what it’s like to be on your own and struggle. I was there. I watched her go through it.
But she was strong. And I know the woman I finally settle down with one day in the far future will be strong in her convictions, just like my mother was.
I hit respond.
Colton: I reckon it’s a date. You’re just too shy to say otherwise.
I take two sips of my coffee before I get another message.
Violet: I’m not shy. And you took a long time to respond. I figured you’d have changed your mind about *dinner*.
She adds two emojis on either side of the word dinner, which makes me chuckle. I have a feeling she’s trying to fish for information. Last night, I worked until midnight. Blythe kept us on set until the final shots were done.
I took a cab home while the crew went to Lush to party it up. Since we aren’t working today, they tried to convince me that a party was in order. Normally, I would’ve gone. I have never been someone to refuse a good piss up, as I call it back home. But for some reason, all I could think about was getting to bed so that I’m awake and ready for tonight.
Colton: I’ll have you know I was working hard. I mean, it takes a lot of effort to look this good …
I attach a selfie, which shows just how tired I am, and my bedhead is mussed in such a way that it’s sticking up in every direction. After I hit send, I wonder if that was a good idea. I don’t want to overdo it and scare her off, but I also want her to feel comfortable with me.
I need her to see me as Colton, not as the Brazen Bachelor, which is a laugh. If you’d asked me two years ago what I’d dub myself as it would most certainly be anything and everything to do with my singledom.
Perhaps I’m getting old. I tap out a message to Simon to tell him that, knowing he’d chuckle at me and my quarter-life crisis.
Violet: Wow, who knew modeling could make you look about eighty in the sun…
I laugh out loud when I see her message, but I notice she’s attached a photo of her at her desk, I presume. She’s wearing a slinky pink camisole, which has parts of my body responding in kind. Her bare shoulders are tempting, making my mouth water for a taste.
Violet is unique in every way, from her dark hair, which shines dark blue to her big, brown eyes, pouty lips, and her makeup-free face. Her lightly tanned skin makes it look like she’s been on the beach for the summer, and her curvy frame has all the dips that make me want to hold onto her in so many ways, most of them far from innocent.
Colton: Are you wearing that to work?
Violet: What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?
Colton: You’re almost naked. I can see your thin bra strap, and it’s tempting me, and I’m on the other side of the city.
Violet: Stop being an idiot. It’s formal wear. I’m not standing around in my bra and panties, having everyone gawk at me like some sort of treat on a stick.
Another laugh barrels from my lips and I shake my head at her snide comments. She’s being playful, letting down her guard, and I like it. I like it a whole lot.
Colton: Touché, sweet treat.
Violet: You did not just…
Colton: Oh, yes, I did.
I find myself staring at my screen, willing the small bubble of dots to start moving to show me she’s typing her snarky response, but nothing. I don’t know if she’s angry with me or if she’s just busy, but I allow her time to do whatever it is she needs to.
I fill my coffee before heading into the bedroom. The bed looks so inviting, and I fall into temptation by flopping down after I set my mug on the nightstand. I pull up my laptop and open the browser to do a little bit of research on my sweet treat.
It fits her perfectly. I smile as I type in her name and scroll through her Facebook before I come across an article she shared on her profile, which is set so I can see cert
ain things, but I can’t get to her photos or any personal information.
"Ask Ida."
Curiosity wins out, and I click on the link, which takes me to a website. I scroll through some of the messages and then chuckle at the advice given. I find myself losing a couple of hours as I read all the way back to three years ago.
But then I stumble on a brand-new post from this morning. It’s to a Nervous in Brooklyn. I read the message and then reread it. It can’t be. Surely. But each time I inhale the words, I know it is. There’s no doubt the message came from Violet.
I read the response from Ida to Violet. She’s told her to wear the black dress, not to feel scared, and to allow me to tell her about who I am. Not the famous face, not the person she’s read about, but the man inside.
I shut the laptop, pondering what that means. I know I have dreams, I have goals, but can I really share them with someone? I wanted to learn more about Violet, to listen to her talk about her hobbies, things she loves, people she cares for, but I didn’t think this through. If I’m expecting her to share, I should do the same.
It’s only fair that I give her a part of me. A message buzzes on my phone, and I open it with a smile on my face when I see her name.
Violet: Okay, then, BB, I’ll be ST.
Colton: You what now?
Violet: If you’re going to insist on calling me Sweet Treat, I’ll call you Brazen Bachelor just like it says on your billboard, which is now right outside our office window.
