Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  His demand tells me I shouldn’t argue, so I don’t. I go to the door, the plush rug I walk across softening my steps so that I don’t even hear the click of my heels, and I very carefully close it all the way. The firm click sounds loud in the otherwise silent room, indicating I’m alone with him. There are no exposed glass windows on this floor. Everything’s encased and closed off, so no one knows I’m in this office by myself with Ryder. Excitement buzzes along my skin like a shock wave and I tell myself this is no big deal. It’s just Ryder.

  But there is nothing casual about this man. I’m drawn to him like those stupid moths drawn to a flame. The ones that get closer and closer until their wings sizzle and their bodies smoke. When it’s over, they fall to the ground like burned little crisps.

  I turn to face him, leaning against the door, suddenly needing the space between us so he doesn’t get the wrong idea of why I’m here. Or I don’t get the wrong reason as to why I’m here. The last thing I want is to get burned.

  “Is everything all right?” He rounds the desk and comes to stop in front of it, leaning against the center. Clasping his hands in front of him, he holds them loosely together, drawing my attention. He has large hands. Long arms. A broad chest and shoulders. His expression is neutral, though just as handsome as usual. “I know the last time I saw you, you were quite upset.”

  Oh, leave it to Ryder to get right to the point. He minces no words, this man.

  “I wanted to … thank you for last night,” I start, hating the hesitation, the nervous shake in my voice.

  He frowns, looking confused. “Thank me for what?”

  “For not making what happened between Zachary and me any worse.” The ranting voicemails and crazy text messages Zachary had barraged my phone with long into the night had left me shaken. I’d hardly slept and was buzzing from the Venti dark roast I gulped down before I even arrived at work. “You were very calm, and I appreciate that.”

  “You were the one who was not so calm. A rather impressive show of anger you offered us, Violet.” The little smile that curls his lips makes my heart flutter. I like it when he says my name and he does it quite often. He makes it sound like an endearment. Ridiculous. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

  “Not really. But I’ll get through it.” I shake my head, ignoring the look of concern on his handsome face. “I just … I wanted to ask you a favor.”

  “What sort of favor?”

  “I was hoping that I could ask for your agreement to remain silent in regards to what happened last night.” My request sounds completely convoluted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me to screw off and get out of his office. Not that he ever would, but … I am making a complete muck of this. I know it.

  “You’re asking for my silence,” he says softly.

  I nod and press my lips together. I don’t want to say anything more for fear I’ll sound like a complete idiot.

  He watches me, his gaze roving over my body in such a languid manner my skin heats, everything within me coming alive. My breath stalls in my throat as I wait for his answer and when he finally lifts his gaze to mine once more, I feel dizzy. Like I’m still drunk on too many glasses of wine.

  “Your dress matches my tie,” he says, throwing me off kilter with his change of subject.

  “What?” I take a few steps toward him, squinting as I stare at his broad chest. The solid red tie he wears is almost an exact match. “Oh. Yes. You’re right.”

  “Like we planned it.”

  “You didn’t get the memo?” I smile. I can’t help myself. I should be feeling down and out, crying into my bowl of Cheerios this morning over the loss of my boyfriend, but I’m not.

  I’m excited to be in this man’s presence, as crazy as it seems. The way he looks at me, he makes me feel incredibly aware that I’m a woman.

  “I must’ve missed that one.” His answering smile is brief and dazzling. “You look beautiful. Like you could grab Lawrence by the balls and wrench them off cleanly, all while you have a giant smile on your face.”

  I burst out laughing at the image. It’s crude but empowering. “Hopefully he’ll stay away from me today.”

  “If he’s smart he will.” Ryder’s smile fades. “I can keep quiet, Violet. But I’m going to have to ask you for a favor in return.”

  “All right.” Curiosity runs through me as I wait for his response. I’m thinking he likes to do this. The pausing, the calculated, well-thought-out statements he makes. He enjoys the anticipation and I’ve come to a new appreciation for it myself, especially when he’s the one who’s delivering it.

  “Come to dinner with me tonight.”

  My mouth drops open and I start to utter my protest, but he holds his hand up, halting me.

  “A working dinner,” he reassures me. “I have some ideas I want to share with you in regards to the new line. I’ve gathered a lot of images these last few days and I think the team and I have come up with something amazing.”

  Why am I disappointed that he wants this to be a business meeting only? What in the world is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be heartbroken over Zachary. I should still be in love with him and not wanting to be with anyone else. I don’t want to go to dinner with Ryder and talk about business. “Can’t you show me your ideas in our next meeting? We could reschedule if you’d like. I have some free time in the afternoon most of this week.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “Some of the suggestions we’ve come up with are … a little out there. Rather than embarrass my team if you flat-out reject their ideas, I thought it would be good if we met prior and I could show you what we’ve come up with so far.”

  I’m intrigued despite my wariness. He knows I’m curious about anything that has to do with my project. My baby. “Tonight?” My voice is squeaky and I clear my throat.

  “Unless you already have plans.” He keeps his eyes locked on me. As if nothing else matters. I can almost believe that, too. “Do you?”

  I did. Before I ended everything with Zachary. “No, I don’t.”

  “Perfect.” He smiles. “I’ll arrange everything and email you all the details before lunch.”

  “All right. Sounds good.” I turn and start toward the door, eager to get away yet reluctant to leave. He makes me uncomfortable. I can’t quite put my finger on exactly how or why, but there it is.

  “Violet?”

  I wait until I reach the door before I face him once more, reaching out my hand to rest it on the handle. “Yes?”

  “Wear the red dress tonight.” He smiles, looking slightly devilish as he lets that wicked gaze roam over me yet again. “I like you in red.” There’s an undercurrent to his request. An unspoken meaning, as if he’s demanding I wear red to please him and no one else.

  I’m so startled by his request I can’t answer him. Instead, I push open the door and practically run down the hall back to the elevator. Back to the safety of my floor and my office, back to normalcy and away from those lusty thoughts that swirl within me every time I’m close to Ryder.

  But his words echo in my head for the rest of the morning and I find myself restlessly checking my in-box again and again, hitting refresh so many times I start to annoy myself. The fear that nags at me won’t let up. What if he forgets? What if he has to cancel? What if he’s changed his mind and decides he doesn’t want to see me tonight after all?

  And why do I want to see him again so badly?

  I remember how he touched me last night when he followed me outside. When he rested his hand on my shoulder, his warm fingers slipping just beneath the lacy strap of my dress. My skin tingles just thinking about it, and I wonder what it would feel like if he touched me with more purpose. If he sunk his hands into my hair and held me still, his mouth descending upon mine. I have no doubt he’s an expert kisser. A master at seduction. He’s so tall and muscular, I can only imagine what his body must be like. Not that Zachary has a bad one, but he’s a little soft in spots. It comes with the desk job, and considering Ryder has
one too … but from what I can tell there’s nothing soft on that man’s body whatsoever. Except, perhaps, his hair.

  Oh, and his lips.

  A shiver moves down my spine at the thought.

  An email comes through and I see the familiar name. I click on it eagerly, my heart hammering in anticipation of what it might say. I should be doing a thousand and one things at the moment and instead I’m waiting for emails like a silly teenager waiting for her boyfriend to call.

  Clearly I’ve lost my mind. And I can’t blame it on the alcohol any longer. I may be hung over, but I am stone-cold sober.

  Violet,

  I’ve made arrangements for us to have dinner at Harper’s at seven o’clock. I hope this works for your schedule and isn’t too early. I know you like to stay late at the office on Wednesday nights, so I tried to accommodate you as best I could.

  I sink my teeth into my lower lip, my gaze snagged on the last sentence I read. Had Zachary ever tried to accommodate me in any way?

  That would be a no.

  I figured we could just ride over together. I’ve arranged for a car. Unless you wanted to go home first, which I completely understand. Let me know.

  Best,

  Ryder

  I should make him wait. I should get on that phone call I’ve been meaning to make for the last few days. Fill out the boring paperwork Rose left me with last Friday that I still haven’t done.

  Instead, I hit reply and immediately type out my response.

  Dear Ryder,

  That sounds perfect. I haven’t tried Harper’s but I’ve heard it’s delicious. And hopefully on a Wednesday night it will be quiet enough that we’ll be able to discuss the project freely without disturbing anyone.

  I look forward to our meeting.

  Thank you,

  Violet

  I hit send before I can second-guess myself on what I said, but of course, I second-guess myself. Is it wrong that I said Harper’s was delicious? Or that I hoped it was quiet enough? Did I sound like I was implying anything? God, I’m being ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous—

  His reply hits my in-box so quickly it shocks me.

  I arranged for us to have a private room so we won’t disturb anyone. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted your undivided attention while I talk to you.

  Oh. Swallowing hard, I hit reply.

  If that’s what you want, then you’ll have it.

  I let my finger hover over the mouse for one beat. Two. Before I finally close my eyes and hit send.

  That’s what I want more than anything.

  Looking forward to tonight.

  R.

  The pleasure that blooms within me makes me smile and I cover my face with my hands, shaking my head. I feel like an alien has taken over my body and is making me say these things, think these things. I have never in my life sent any sort of innuendo-filled email to anyone, not even Zachary. A few moments with Ryder and I act like I want him to jump me.

  I sort of do want him to jump me.

  Dropping my hands from my face, I reach out and pick up the phone, dialing Rose’s extension. She answers on the first ring with a hurried hello, sounding completely distracted.

  “I know I just broke up with Zachary …” I pause, and Rose butts in before I can say another word.

  “If you’re telling me you’re taking him back I will hang up on you. Right. Now. And I won’t talk to you again, either. I don’t care if we’re sisters. I don’t care if we work together. I won’t let you go back to that tool,” Rose says, sounding fierce, in her typical defensive I will kill anyone who hurts you sisterly way.

  “No. No. Don’t worry about that.” I pause, suddenly feeling scared to say anything about Ryder to Rose. She’ll tell me I’m crazy. Warn me that I’m rushing into something I probably can’t handle. He’s too much for me. I know it. I think he knows it too. But that’s not stopping him.

  And it’s not stopping me either.

  “Really?” Rose asks cautiously.

  I can’t tell her. Not yet. I should keep this my little secret for a while longer. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since Zachary and I split and I’m already thinking of someone else. Rose will freak. Or think I’m having a mental breakdown. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m sticking to it. I won’t take him back.”

  “No matter how hard he tries to win you over?” Rose sounds skeptical, not that I can blame her. I’ve given in before, though we’ve never really split up, so this is a new development in our history.

  “No matter how hard he tries,” I promise. “Not that he’ll try. He’s leaving in less than two weeks. It’s temporary, but I’m assuming Father will give him this promotion. He’ll move on. I’ll move on. It’s over.”

  “If you say so. I think the idiot will realize what he’s lost and come back begging.”

  I laugh. God, I hope not. He is the last thing I want to deal with. I’m so over him. “I doubt it.”

  “I’m so proud of you. You sound so strong, so sure of yourself,” Rose murmurs. “You can do this. I know you can.”

  “I know I can too.” I do. And I think using Ryder as the perfect distraction will help.

  Or hurt. I can’t tell yet.

  But that doesn’t scare me enough to stop me.

  Chapter Eight

  Ryder

  Anticipation hums through my veins as I watch Violet exit the building, that sexy-as-fuck dress she’s wearing standing out amidst the sea of black and navy and gray that passes by between us. I’m standing on the edge of the sidewalk waiting for her and it’s getting colder by the minute. No one can count on spring in New York. One day—yesterday—it was a perfect high of seventy-five degrees. Today’s high was sixty and the temperature is dropping at a rapid rate. Violet is wearing the short-sleeved dress with no coat or sweater, a black Chanel bag slung over her shoulder, her hair still as sleek and perfect as it was when I saw her first thing this morning, and all I can think is how vivid she is. How startlingly beautiful and perfect.

  And how badly I want to mess her up. Tug the band out of her hair and watch as those long, dark waves falls around her face. Place my lips on the spot where her pulse throbs at the base of her neck and suck there. Nibble her skin. Lick her. Learn her taste. Let my hands wander, memorizing every curve …

  She catches sight of me and the shy smile that lights up her face sends a buzz of awareness straight through me. She pushes her way through the crowd until she’s standing directly in front of me, the scent of her, the heat of her lithe body despite the cold surrounding me, drawing me in. Her lipstick is as red as her dress, reminding me of the shade she wore last night, and I have the sudden urge to kiss it right off of her. Smear it, get it on my lips, let her mark me.

  If I have my way, I will definitely mark her. In primitive, sexual ways that she’ll keep hidden beneath her clothes. I’ll know those marks are there, though.

  I swipe a hand across the back of my tense neck. Jesus, something about this woman fills me with confusing, possessive thoughts. Thoughts I don’t normally have. I don’t care about anyone but myself. I’ve had to be this way. It’s the only way I survived when I was growing up. I raised myself for the most part.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she says, sounding breathless. Can’t help but wonder if she’d sound that breathless just after I make her come. “I had a last-minute call and it took longer than I expected.”

  “It’s fine.” She’s five minutes late, tops. No big deal. Funny how she acts like she’s committed an unforgivable sin. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

  “Good.” The relieved smile she sends me makes my own lips curve without thought. “Are you ready?”

  “Absolutely.” I take her elbow and steer her to the car, opening the door for her so she can climb inside. I let my gaze drop to her ass, watching the way the thin red material hugs her curves, and I quell the lust that rises within me as best I can.

  But it’s difficult. Having her close, all of my sen
ses focused on her and no one else, I feel almost overwhelmed—or more like a beast ready to rut. Not the usual experience I have when in the presence of a beautiful woman. They’re the ones who slobber all over me, not the other way around.

  I climb into the backseat of the car behind her and pull the door shut, indicating to the driver that he should get going. We have less than fifteen minutes to get to our destination in time for our reservation and there’s no way we’ll make it. They won’t give up our spot, though. I guaranteed the small private room for Violet and me with my credit card. We’ll be alone all night. I’ll start working my magic on her the minute we’re behind closed doors and she’ll be ready and willing within the next few days, if not by the end of the night.

  I’m that confident in my abilities.

  “I can’t wait to see your ideas,” she says, her voice holding a tremor of excitement. She curls her hands together in her lap, her body angled toward mine. “I’ve been looking forward to this dinner all day.”

  Her admission surprises me. Violet’s usually so reserved, holding her feelings, her opinions, close to her chest. But I think back on those emails we exchanged earlier. I read more into them and I think she did, too. I was taking a risk, sending her innuendo-filled emails. Not that I meant to at first. And given that she dumped Lawrence only last night, I’m surprised by her behavior.

  But as I also observed last night, there’s more to Violet than meets the eye. I think she’s offering me a glimpse beneath all of those layers she keeps so carefully hidden. Makes me eager for her to reveal even more.

  Much more.

  “So have I,” I murmur, wishing I could reach across the center console and grab her hand. I’d probably shock the shit out of her if I settled her palm on my growing dick. Would she jerk her hand away, or curl her fingers around my cock and stroke me straight into oblivion?

  I’m guessing the former. I’d bet good money she’s never given a hand job to Lawrence in a car. Maybe she’s never given him a hand job anywhere. I have no idea. Just thinking about her sex life with that asshole makes me want to punch his face in.