“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I replied, shrugging. “And I was thinking that on your way back from lunch, you could pick up a cupcake from Vito’s.”
“So, apparently we decided on sharing a cupcake?”
“Their cupcakes are the best, and they also happen to be my favorite.”
“Then how can I possibly tell you no?”
I winked at him. “You’re not supposed to, boss.”
Chapter Four
When I got home from work, I took not one cold shower but two. The dress Violet had chosen to wear today did things to certain parts of my anatomy. I rubbed one out in each shower, but it only barely quieted the urges humming through my body. My dick was acutely aware of the last time it had been put to good use. And watching Vi walk in that tight dress was like a straight shot of adrenaline right into my cock.
Things were getting to the point where I had trolled a few bars over the past two nights. The prospect of having sex was enough to quiet my desires, but whenever I was out, I continually found myself comparing every woman I met to my feisty secretary. As of late, none of the women I talked to were up to snuff. Honestly, I’d been taken with her since she walked into Eddie’s bar less than a week ago. And it was a fucking problem.
I decided to forego traditional nourishment in favor of the liquid variety. Pouring myself a large glass of scotch, I plopped on the couch and turned on the television. I flipped it to ESPN and called it a day. I hated channel surfing. It was just a waste of my fucking time. Instead, I stayed on one channel and watched football clips. At least that was somewhat entertaining.
As of right now, my entire family was gathered at my parents’ manor for dinner. At lunch today, my mother practically begged me to come tonight, but I had no desire to set eyes on my father. When all the shit came to light in Chicago, he called and chewed me out for a good thirty minutes. He didn’t believe for one second I might actually be innocent. The fact he didn’t even have the decency to ask for my side of the story irritated the fuck out of me. I was his son. Shouldn’t the blood we share at least give me the benefit of the doubt?
But it didn’t. I’d shamed the Desmond name, and I needed to redeem myself.
I took another long gulp of scotch, the liquid burning as it slid down my esophagus. I was pathetic. It was a Friday night and I was at home, lying on my couch like a damn hermit. Tonight, I didn’t even have the energy to pretend I wanted to go out. Not a minute later, my phone lit up with a text message.
And fuck me senseless. The text was from Violet.
Violet: Why do you hate me?
Me: What makes you say that?
I considered her question, but the answer came to me before she had time to reply. I’d been so distracted by lunch with my mother, I’d forgotten about the celebration cupcake.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Me: I forgot the cupcake from Vito’s.
Violet: :(
Her reply did me in. I was the biggest asshole in the history of assholes. I jumped off the couch and threw on a plain T-shirt. I already had on a pair of track pants, and I pulled on the closest pair of sneakers I could get my hands on. I was out of my apartment in less than five minutes. My car was parked out front, and I slid behind the steering wheel and headed toward Vito’s Bakery. They didn’t close until eight, so I still had thirty minutes to snag a cupcake and leave.
Twenty minutes later and I had completed my mission. I’d managed to swipe not one, but two cupcakes from Vito’s.
Me: What is your address?
Violet: And why should I divulge that information to you?
Obstinate as ever. I couldn’t help but laugh as I read her text message.
Me: Because I have cupcakes from Vito’s.
Violet: 1620 Crestwood Lane. Apartment #2.
Me: Be there in a few.
When I walked up to Violet’s apartment, my heart was beating harder than it had the night I lost my virginity after junior prom. My fingers squeezed the bakery box, digging into the cardboard. I sucked in a deep breath as I slammed my knuckles against her door and waited for her to answer.
“Come on in, boss,” she said, backing out of the way.
“Thanks.”
I slid past her, stepping into a living room that was connected to an alcove with a small dining table in the center of it.
She locked the door behind me and gestured toward a leather couch. “You can sit down if you want.”
I set the box on the coffee table and sat down. She was still in the same dress she wore earlier, and I breathed in the sweet vanilla scent of her perfume.
“I feel a little underdressed,” I stated, staring at her.
She laughed and I swear it sounded like pure bliss. “I haven’t had time to change yet. Rhonda and I went to dinner after work.” She slid off her heels, holding them in her left hand. “I told her about BU’s Paralegal Studies program.”
“And?”
“She was really excited for me!”
“Of course she was.”
Violet smiled at my words. “Wait here. I’m going to change really quick.”
My eyes followed her as she disappeared down a nearby hallway. It took every bit of my composure not to run after her.
Focus, Desmond. She’s your fucking secretary, and she’s an amazing one too. You need her.
When she returned a few minutes later, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Violet had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top that hardly covered anything . . . I was fucked.
“Here,” I said, moving over so she had room.
“Thanks.” She sat next to me, the delicious scent of her perfume once again exciting my senses in the best way possible.
Instantly, her hands went for the box I brought. “I’m really sorry I forgot to bring us back a celebration cupcake earlier. I had a lot on my mind after I saw my mother. I know that isn’t an excuse, but I just wanted to explain where my head was at.”
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, aren’t you about to make it up to me right now?”
“Yeah.”
She opened the box, removing a cupcake covered in pink icing and sprinkles. Pulling back the paper liner, she took a bite.
“Mmm. It’s perfect,” she moaned with a full mouth. “Now you.”
“I’m good.”
“Eat the damn cupcake, boss.” She held the cupcake up to my mouth.
Reluctantly, I took a bite and swallowed. “It’s really good.”
“I’m so proud of you for landing a big client!” She took another bite of the cupcake. Her cheeks and chest were flushed.
“Are you hot?”
“Rhonda drove me home from dinner. I had four . . . no, wait, five glasses of wine,” she answered with a giggle.
Great. Not only was I at Violet’s apartment, but she was drunk as well. This was fucking perfect. “I can leave if you’re tired and would rather go to sleep or something.” Part of me prayed I’d be able to slide out of her apartment without another word, but the masochistic part of my brain wanted nothing more than to stay.
“Absolutely not! We still have another cupcake to eat, and you’re going to watch a movie with me!”
“I am?”
“You owe me, remember?”
I held up my hands in defeat and took another bite from the cupcake she held. “You’re the boss.”
“Bet your ass I am.” She finished off the rest of the cupcake and stood. “I know what we need!”
“And what might that be?”
“Something to drink! Wait here!” She disappeared into the nearby kitchen and returned in less than a minute holding a six pack of wine coolers. Twisting the cap off one, she handed me a bottle and grabbed another for herself.
“What is this?” I asked, taking a sip.
“A fuzzy navel! Isn’t it delicious?”
Admittedly, it wasn’t my typical kind of drink, but it actually tasted really good. “It’s good.”
“So, what happened wit
h your mom?” she asked.
I sighed deeply, playing with the label on the bottle I held. “Mostly just talked about a bunch of shit.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”
“You told me about your family this morning. It’d hardly be fair if I didn’t discuss mine.”
“It’s your dad, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?” I questioned incredulously.
“Your mom is sweet and clearly loves you.” She shrugged, taking another big gulp of her fuzzy navel. “And fathers are hell.”
“That is definitely true,” I replied. “Mine hasn’t wanted anything to do with me since I moved back to Boston. I guess I can’t say I blame him, but how am I supposed to explain everything if he won’t talk to me?”
Setting down her drink, she laid her hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. “Just give him some time. He’ll come around.”
I shook my head and laughed. “That’s exactly what my mom said.”
“Then you know it’s good advice.”
“I suppose so.”
“Come on, let’s take your mind off it.”
I leaned toward her slightly, unable to resist her pull. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“Manicures!” she shouted, standing up from the couch.
“I’m not really the manicure kind of guy.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes dramatically. “You don’t have to have your nails painted.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“I’ll massage your hands and then you can help me paint my nails.”
“Seriously?”
“You so owe me still!”
“Just how long am I going to owe you?”
“For at least a month.” She winked at me and disappeared down the hallway once more. When she returned, she had a small basket filled with things in her hand. “Alright,” she said, handing me the remote to the television. “You find something for us to watch, and I’ll do you first.”
If I thought I was fucked before, I was really fucked now. Because there was nothing I wouldn’t give to be able to do her first.
I gulped down the rest of my fuzzy navel and hoped the alcohol would untangle the knot of nerves simmering in the pit of my stomach. “Okay.”
She sat on the coffee table across from me and grabbed my left hand. Hers were already coated with some kind of lotion, and whatever it was, it smelled like vanilla and fresh oranges. The tips of her fingers massaged my entire hand, working over tendons I hadn’t even realized were sore. “How does that feel?”
“Really nice,” I blurted out.
“See, aren’t manicures fun?”
“You’ve converted me, Vi.”
“Yay!” After she’d worked over my left hand for a good five minutes, she switched to the right. “What the hell are we watching?” With a glance over her shoulder, she stared at the television.
“Honestly, I have no idea,” I answered. I wasn’t really paying attention as I flipped through the channels, and now we were watching a documentary on Henry the VIII.
“Typical man,” she spat. “He’s not happy with a woman, so he just had her head cut off.”
“I don’t believe he was the most sane individual.”
“No kidding.”
“Thankfully, not all men are like him.”
“I’ve yet to meet one who isn’t.”
I slid the remaining cupcake out of the box and held it out in front of her. “At least I’m trying, right?”
Her lips spread into a grin as her gaze dropped to the cupcake. This one was covered in blue icing and matching sprinkles. “Yeah. You’re doing a good job.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She bit into the cupcake and handed it off to me. I took a bite, watching as she finished off her fuzzy navel. “Thanks for the cupcakes, by the way.”
“No problem. It’s all in the name of celebration, right?”
“Yes!” She grabbed the cupcake, taking another mouthful. “Now it’s time for my manicure.”
“I’ve never painted anyone’s nails before.”
“It’s easy. I promise.”
Twenty minutes later, Vi was humming another story altogether.
“It looks like I just ripped out someone’s heart!” she cried, staring at her nails.
I’d chosen red nail polish, but seeing her hands now, I realized it was a mistake.
“I’m sorry.”
She stared at her hands again and burst into a fit of laughter. “I’ve never seen anything more horrendous in my life.”
“At least I tried.”
“Good God. Did you have a seizure while holding the brush?”
“I grew up with two brothers. It’s not like I’ve had any practice with painting fingernails!”
“Ooh! Two brothers,” she teased, the tone of her voice increasing a few pitches. “Either of them single?”
I had no rights to her, but the thought of Violet with either of my brothers was enough to spin me into a rage. “Derek, my older brother, is happily married with a four-year-old son, and my younger brother, Alex, is a dick. He’s with a new girl every other week.”
“You have a nephew?”
“Yeah. His name is Devon and he is a handful.”
“I bet he’s so cute.”
“He is,” I said with a laugh.
She pulled two more fuzzy navels out and twisted the caps off each before handing one to me. “What do your brothers do?” she asked, taking a long drink.
“Derek works for my dad. First son following in his father’s footsteps and all that bullshit. And Alex is a criminal defense attorney.”
“So, you’re a family full of lawyers.”
“Yeah. Boring, right?”
“Sure beats having the cops show up at your sixteenth birthday party to bust your brother for cooking meth. Not that it was much of a party. Cops raided the trailer we lived in and took everything into evidence, including the one present I got.”
Jesus. The adversity this woman had faced in her life was shocking. A lesser person would’ve given up a long time ago. What the fuck did I know about anything? I had every advantage this world had to offer, and I still managed to make a fucking mess out of my life.
“What was the one present you got?” I asked.
“A bottle of vodka from my father.”
“Fuck.”
“I think boring sounds nice.”
“I’m sorry for everything you had to go through.”
She shrugged, taking another sip of her fuzzy navel. “It made me strong, made me who I am today.”
“I’d say so.”
“My mom was amazing though. She loved flowers, loved to garden. We had a greenhouse near our home and I always thought it was so incredible that she could grow all of these beautiful things in the middle of the desert,” she confessed. “When I turned seven, she filled the entire greenhouse with violets. We just hung out in there all day and admired the flowers. It was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
I took her hand in mine, softly tracing my thumb over her skin. Her flesh felt like velvet beneath my touch, and I already dreaded the moment I would have to let go. “It sounds really nice.”
“It was.”
“When is your birthday?”
“May 16th.”
“Yours?”
“January 8th,” I answered. “What is the best present you’ve ever gotten?”
“That’s easy,” she answered immediately. “For the birthday I was just telling you about, my mom bought me a pair of earrings. She called them pink ice. They looked kind of like fake diamonds, but I thought they were the prettiest things I’d ever seen. I wore those earrings until I was twenty-three. The backs on them wore out and they just fell out of my ears. Of course, by the time I noticed, it was too late. God, I cried for weeks over those earrings.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got to stop apologizing for every
shitty thing that has happened in my life. Otherwise, you’ll be here all night.”
“Okay.”
“Good!” She stood from where she’d been sitting on the coffee table and plopped down next to me. “So, what is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten?”
“When I turned twenty, my brothers got me tickets to Lollapalooza. It was a fucking blast.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a music festival in Chicago. I think we were hammered for three straight days,” I answered. “But I don’t really know for sure. All I know is that it was the best weekend of my life.”
“It’s nice you’re so close with your brothers.”
“I’ve never really given it much thought, but you’re right.”
“I just have a different perspective.”
“True.” I downed the rest of my drink, watching as Vi did the same. “Should we pick another movie?”
“Yeah!” Vi burst into a fit of giggles, scooting closer to me. I tried to keep my distance, but her fingers latched onto my arm, preventing my escape. “And where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” I flipped through a few more channels, only stopping when Violet commanded me to do so. The movie she made me stop on was The Princess Bride.
“This is one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.”
When she laid her head on my shoulder, I inhaled sharply. “I think I had a lot to drink.”
“Are you feeling sick?” I asked, immediately concerned.
“No, I don’t feel sick, just snuggly.”
“Snuggly?”
“Yeah.” She slid her arms around my shoulders, rubbing her nose against the side of my neck. “You know, like that.”
I bit my lip hard, but it still didn’t suppress the grin spreading across my face. “Just like that?”
“Don’t you like it?”
If only she knew how much I liked it. A drunk Violet was a dangerous one, and I needed to steer this conversation to safer grounds. “I thought you wanted to watch a movie . . .”
“Oh, I do!”
She stayed wrapped around my arm through half the movie before passing out. Being careful not to wake her, I carried Violet down the hall to her bedroom. Laying her on the bed, I pulled the comforter over top of her. As I turned to walk away, her hand caught mine.
Burning Violet Page 5
