Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  You hear that enough from a person who’s taken care of you better than anyone else in your life and you start to believe it.

  My cell buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket, checking as discreetly as possible to see who the text is from.

  Pilar.

  You should stop by the bathrooms with your new little friend and see what’s happening. It’s rather … jaw dropping.

  Christ. The woman moves way too fast for me. I can only guess by her reference that she’s already got Lawrence’s dick in her mouth. I’m fucking impressed.

  And disgusted, though I have no room to judge. I’m afraid this won’t be easy, dealing with Violet. She’s a delicate little flower. Discovering Pilar and her fiancé—or boyfriend, or whatever he wants to call himself—together has the power to destroy her. She could crumble into tiny pieces, fall into a fit of rage, cry buckets of tears. I have no idea.

  I don’t like that. I’ve dealt with enough unknowns in my life. When it comes to this scheme, I want to be in control. I need to. Pilar is trying to take that control away from me.

  Deleting the message, I turn to look at Violet and find her staring at the city spread out before us, the wind blowing through her lustrous dark hair, her red, red lips pursed into a delectable pout. She appears contemplative. But I see the wrinkle in her brows, the tightness in her jaw. She’s upset.

  “We should go inside,” I say gently, touching her forearm, streaking my thumb across her baby-soft skin slowly, just once. A tremble moves through her, subtle but there, and she lifts her gaze to mine. “Lawrence is probably looking for you,” I tell her, feeling like a liar the moment the words fall from my lips.

  She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m sure he’s not, but thank you for your feigned concern.”

  “Violet,” I murmur, but she says nothing, just pushes away from the railing, away from me, and starts toward the door.

  I let her walk ahead of me, my mind feeling as if it’s on speed, rushing through the endless possibilities of what might happen next. A few minutes alone with her and I should be feeling on top of the world. It’s all going according to plan, even if the plan was placed on fast forward and is skipping through all the relevant scenes. Instead of triumph, guilt slips through my veins, turning my blood cold. This woman has been made a victim by her asshole boyfriend time and again. Why is she so blind to his faults? Why has she let him continue to cheat on her? It makes no sense.

  But it’s not my concern. It’s not as if I have any concern for anyone but myself. She’s exactly the same way. It’s all about appearances for her. I need to remember she’s nothing but a rich bitch who can have whatever and whomever she wants. Not my problem that she chooses to stay with an utter asshole who loves nothing more than cheating on his beautiful girlfriend. She’s smart, successful, beautiful, and worth an absolute fortune. Yet he’s never satisfied.

  Again, I can relate, though I’m loath to admit that I can relate to Zachary fucking Lawrence. But that incessant need is always clawing at my gut, reminding me that I must strive for more. I want to rise above it all, show everyone who I am and what I can do. At least I don’t have a girlfriend on my arm who I’m pretending I love just to get ahead.

  Clearly, Zachary Lawrence wins the Asshole of the Year award, not me. Though I’m close.

  After what I plan on doing to Violet, I’ll probably surpass him.

  “Thank you again for tolerating me,” Violet says from over her shoulder as I reach out to open the door for her. Tolerate her. She’s hilarious. I’d give anything to show her what a hardship it would be to tolerate her.

  By stripping her out of that dress. Seeing what she has on beneath it. Then proceeding to kiss her all over that sexy body …

  “Always a pleasure, Violet,” I say, smiling at her as I pull open the door.

  We reenter the building at the exact time Lawrence and Pilar emerge from the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. The two of them appear disheveled, especially Lawrence. His hair looks like her fingers just ran through it repeatedly, his tie is askew, and his pants are wrinkled. Pilar’s lipstick is completely gone, her mouth swollen, and the triumphant smile she’s wearing says it all.

  That must’ve been some quick blow job.

  “Funny running into you here.” Pilar sounds as if she’s ready to burst into laughter. At least Lawrence has the decency to appear contrite. And guilty as fuck. “And what are you two doing?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Violet says, charging toward Lawrence like she wants to head butt him. Instead she reaches out and shoves at his chest, sending him jerking backward. “What exactly did you do, Zachary? Sneak off and fuck her in the bathroom? Or was it just a quick blow job in a hallway? I know that’s your usual style.”

  Whoa. That was completely unexpected. “Violet …” I start, but I’m cut off.

  “Stop it, Violet,” Lawrence says, angrily spitting out her name like it’s a curse. “Don’t make a scene.”

  “Why not? For once in my life, I’d absolutely love to make a scene.” She shoves at him again, a little harder this time, but he’s prepared for the blow and stands his ground. “I can only take so much, Zachary. You really believe I’d turn a blind eye when you screw around with someone we work with in public? Someone I’d have to face day in and day out while you’re off in London having the time of your life, proving yourself to Daddy and propositioning every female you meet?”

  “You have before, darling, so why change now?” Pilar drawls, and I send her a warning look.

  “This isn’t your argument. Stay out of it,” I murmur under my breath. Jesus, she has some nerve. She needs to keep her mouth shut.

  And I’m completely fascinated with Violet’s behavior. Who knew she was so fiery? We could blame the wine, and I’m guessing that’s a contributing factor, but when someone drinks, the truth usually comes out.

  And the truth is that Violet Fowler has a backbone. It might be buried deep, but it’s definitely in there.

  “Why should I stay out of it? Let’s be very real here. You’re going to accuse us of any wrongdoing, but you’re the ones sneaking back inside with each other. And I’m positive the two of you have been up to no good,” Pilar says, the disgust in her voice abundantly clear. “When are you up to any good, Ryder? What dirty trick do you have up your sleeve now? Remember, I know who you are. What you like.”

  I’m stunned. She’s practically calling me out, as if she had no part whatsoever in our little plan. What’s her real motive here? She’s making me sound as slimy as Lawrence and I fucking can’t stand it.

  Reaching out, I grab hold of Pilar’s arm, clamping my fingers tight. “We were outside talking,” I stress as I lower my mouth closer to her ear. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She ignores my question and doesn’t say a word, pulling herself out of my grip and rubbing her arm as if I hurt her. And this bitch likes it when I hurt her. I’ve done it enough in the past.

  “Let’s go.” Lawrence brushes right past me, sending me a furious glare before he takes hold of Violet’s wrist, gripping it like a manacle, and starts to escort her back into the party. But she shakes out of his grasp, stepping away from him and nearly backing into me.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  He turns to face her. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  Violet shakes her head. “No. You’re not calling the shots any longer. We’re through, Zachary. I can’t live like this. You don’t really want to be with me. You want what my name can give you, what my father can give you, but you don’t love me. You just love what I represent.”

  Lawrence stares at her, breathing so heavily I can hear him. “We’re not having this discussion here. Not now,” he whispers, his voice almost a hiss. “We’re leaving, Violet. We’ll go back to your place and talk about this. Privately.”

  “I’m not leaving with you. You’re not coming over.” She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her breasts, which I can see through the lace fr
ont of her dress. She’s furious, her cheeks are a flaming pink and her eyes blaze with unrestrained anger and hurt, but she won’t back down. It’s Lawrence who finally gives in first.

  “This isn’t over,” he says, pointing at her accusingly. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow when you’re rational and actually sober.”

  “I feel more rational now than I ever have before. Funny, how a couple of glasses of wine and the truth can make everything clear. And trust me, there’s nothing left to discuss.” Her voice is cold, her expression defiant. “You can go to London free of me. I’m sure that’s what you secretly wanted, right? You just didn’t know how to break it to me? Didn’t want my father upset with you?”

  He says nothing. There’s nothing to say, since I’m assuming Violet’s words hit pretty close to the truth. Lawrence merely turns and strides away without a backward glance, heading back into the cocktail party. Pilar sends me a triumphant smile before she chases after him, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor.

  Leaving me alone with Violet.

  “Well.” She drops her arms to her sides and releases a shuddery breath, turning to face me. “That was unexpected.”

  “Very,” I agree.

  She rubs a hand across her forehead. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through it,” I automatically say, frowning. I don’t apologize to anyone. So why her?

  “It needed to be done. It should’ve happened long ago.” She shrugs, and I swear I can see her sadness settle over her like a heavy blanket. “I should find Rose. I’m sure she’ll come home with me.”

  I’m about to offer to escort her home but I clamp my lips shut, deciding against it. I can’t push too hard too soon. I need to process what unfolded, anyway. Figure out a new plan of attack. I still can’t believe what just happened. We broke the two of them up much faster than I thought we could. It was easy.

  Almost too easy.

  “Wasn’t it amazing? She was so incredibly angry. I didn’t know stupid Violet Fowler could act so … unhinged.” Pilar clasps her hands together. “Did you see her face? Wish I would’ve had a camera to capture it. Talk about shock. I’m surprised she didn’t faint.”

  I’d come home from the party less than an hour after the confrontation, planning to head straight to bed. But when I opened my door, I found Pilar sitting on the couch, curled up in one of my old T-shirts and nothing else. She seemed edgy, excited, almost manic.

  There went my peaceful night.

  “I couldn’t miss it. I was there too, you know,” I remind her. Violet had been beautiful despite the anger, the pain, and the sadness.

  “He was an incredibly easy mark.” When I meet her gaze questioningly, she waves her fingers at me. “Zachary, darling. He caved like a cheap suitcase. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” She taps her index finger against her pursed lips before shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it’s done. The power couple is no more. He’ll chase after me until he leaves for London. Then it’s over and we’ll both get what we want.”

  I’m not so sure about that. “Ever think he could be pissed at you for what happened?” I would be. Fucking around with Pilar ruined his good thing. Who knew how old man Fowler would feel when he realized Lawrence and his daughter broke up, especially if he discovered the details of how it happened? And did this put Pilar in jeopardy?

  “I spoke to him. Remember?” She gives a dismissive laugh. “I ran after him like the grieving, how-can-I-make-everything-better mistress. He said he wasn’t angry with me or that we were caught. He just wasn’t pleased with how it ended, with an argument near the bathrooms during a cocktail party. He thought that was rather … cheap.”

  Jesus. Only Zachary Lawrence would care about appearances during a nasty public breakup. He should be thankful no one else caught them. What the hell’s wrong with this dude? “You’re lucky, then. If I were him, I’d hate your guts for destroying my sure thing.”

  “Please. He’s so over that sure thing. There are plenty of others, trust me. She’s nothing. Nothing.” Pilar shakes her head. “You don’t have to go through the torture of pursuing her any longer, you lucky, lucky man.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that it’s over. Done with. I’d needed you to distract her while I went to work on Zachary, but he fell for my—charms much faster than I anticipated. It’s not necessary for you to try and hook Violet any longer,” Pilar explains before examining her nails.

  Damn it. I want to pursue this, pursue Violet and get her naked, now more than ever. I’d been looking forward to seducing her just for the challenge of it all. “This was part of the game, Pilar. You would get Lawrence, I would get Violet, and then I’d dump her. Get her out of your way so you can pursue … whatever it is you’re so intent on pursuing.”

  “The game changed, darling.” Her attention is still zeroed in on her stupid nails. “So let’s move on, shall we?”

  “It’s changed for you, but it hasn’t changed for me. You got what you wanted.” Realization slowly dawns. Fuck this, now I’m getting pissed. “You’re jealous. You don’t want me anywhere near Violet, but it’s okay for you to fuck around with Lawrence.”

  “How could I be jealous of that weak little girl? Please.” She makes a dismissive noise. “She wouldn’t know how to satisfy a man like you if she tried.”

  “A man like me,” I say, my voice flat.

  “Oh, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.” She drops her hand and stares at me as that familiar lusty hunger fills her golden eyes. “You like it hard. And dirty, and sometimes a little mean, and even a little … painful. Can you imagine Violet splayed out on your bed begging you to fuck her?”

  Fuck yes, I could. “You gave me a challenge. I’m going to meet it.”

  “So you’re only doing this to please me?” Pilar asks hopefully.

  “This isn’t about you.” I pause. It’s about me wanting Violet. Wanting what Zachary Lawrence just lost. “You go do what you need to do and I’ll do the same,” I tell her.

  The crestfallen expression on Pilar’s face says it all. I completely disappointed her. “So you’re shutting me out.”

  “I have to,” I stress. No way do I want her involved in my pursuit of Violet. I never did. “We get sloppy, she catches on. We keep our distance from each other; you keep up your game with Lawrence and I’ll take care of Violet.” I’ll wear her down eventually. I know I can.

  “Meaning you’ll eventually destroy her?” Pilar asks.

  Sighing, I scrub a hand across my face. “Why are you so hell-bent on destroying her? What did she ever do to you?”

  “She was born a Fowler. Just because she’s blood doesn’t mean she deserves the position and authority that she has at Fleur. It’s infuriating.” Pilar scowls. “She’s teetering on the edge, though. I can sense it. Ending it with Zachary will push her harder. If you’re determined to do this, then fine. You toying with her will send her straight over. She’ll spiral out of control and someone will need to replace her. That will be me.”

  “Rather certain in your abilities, aren’t you?”

  “Oh darling.” The smile she flashes at me is fucking scary in its intensity. “You have no idea.”

  Chapter Seven

  Violet

  As I exit the elevator I notice the strange looks, the curious murmurings, though they’re trying their best to be discreet. I nod and smile hello at those brave enough to face me head on, hoping that the Fleur employees I encounter are talking about me because I rarely make an appearance on this floor. Not because they’ve all somehow found out that my now ex-boyfriend let the barracuda of Fleur suck his dick last night while at a cocktail party. In a hallway. By the bathrooms.

  God, it sounds so vile, so tawdry. My skin crawls just thinking about it.

  Oh, and yes. Suck his dick. I’m not the type to say such … vulgar things, but I’m calling a spade a spade. I’m owning what happened last night bec
ause I’m not at fault. I’m not the one who pushed him into the arms of another woman. He’s actually used that excuse before and I’ve fallen for it.

  Who’s the real fool in this situation? Me. And I’m sick of it. Zachary is a despicable human being who’s cheated on me for the very last time.

  I smile politely at the receptionist as she greets me with a cheerful good morning, then turn right and start heading down the hall. I lift my chin with feigned determination while deep within, nerves dance inside my stomach. This needs to be done and it’s best if I get it over with first thing. Rose told me I should just do it via email, but I insisted that telling him in person would have more impact.

  I’m starting to think I should have listened to Rose after all.

  Smoothing my hands down the front of my vivid red dress—purposely chosen because I feel so bold wearing it—I straighten my shoulders and pause at the slightly closed door, knocking twice before I peek my head inside. “May I come in?”

  Ryder McKay stands behind his desk looking like a ruthless, commanding king, his hands propped against the edge as he surveys the various photos and paperwork spread all over the top. He lifts his head, his stark blue gaze meeting mine, and for a moment all I see is ice. His gaze is impenetrable. A little bit mean.

  But then the ice melts and he smiles slowly, the crinkles that form around his eyes charming and telling me that he does smile more often than it might seem, which somehow reassures me.

  “Violet. What a pleasant surprise.” He stretches to his full height and waves a hand at me. “Close the door.”

  “Oh.” I jump a little, running my fingertips over my hair, which I pulled into a no-nonsense, sleek ponytail, as I turn to look at the door. “Um, what I want to talk about won’t take long, I promise.”

  “But you want privacy, I assume?” His delectably deep voice washes over me and I repress the shiver that wants to overtake me at his words. He can make “privacy” sound like a dirty sexual act he wants to perform on me and me alone. I glance over my shoulder to find his head tilted, his gaze seemingly locked on my backside. “Shut the door, Violet.”