Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  There’s a moment of silence before she finally speaks. “Hello.” Her voice warms. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Better since I received my gift.” I pause, wondering what I can say to her without sounding like a lecherous ass. May I tie you up so I can go down on you and bring you to orgasm with my tongue? Better yet, Let me bind your wrists behind your back and push you to your knees while I push my cock into your mouth …

  “Do you like it?” she asks shyly.

  “I love it. Thank you.”

  “I felt bad. For what I-I did to your tie last night.” She sounds so unsure of herself, it just about kills me. Does she have any idea how sexy she is? All that innocent vulnerability is an incredible turn-on.

  Most would say because I’m going to take advantage of her. That’s why I find her naivety so freaking sexy. She’s easy pickings.

  They would be right.

  “I didn’t mind,” I reassure her. And it’s no lie. The crumpled tie can be fixed. Nothing a good dry cleaner can’t tackle. “But I like this one too.”

  “I’m glad.” She lowers her voice. “We’re still on for noon?”

  She sounds excited. And I feel victorious. This is just too easy. “Yes.” I don’t say another word. I’m in the mood to hear her squirm.

  “Are we going to have … a heavy lunch?”

  Is she speaking in code? “I was thinking more along the lines of an … appetizer.”

  “Oh.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. She’s already aroused. By the time noon rolls around and she shows up, she’ll be primed. “That sounds … good.”

  “It’ll be more than good.” I glance up at the sound of a knock on my door, dropping the box under my desk and the tie into my lap when I see Pilar standing in the doorway. “Sorry to cut this short, but someone’s at my door.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” Violet hangs up before I can say another word and I settle the phone back in the receiver, offering Pilar a polite smile.

  “What brings you here?”

  “What sort of greeting is that?” She strides into the room, the scent of her strong perfume following her like a cloud. Her bold choice in dress, in hair and makeup and scent, fits her. It’s all a part of her personality, her own brand, she’s told me more than once. She wants to be memorable, and she most definitely is.

  I sometimes wonder, though, where the realness is. Who is Pilar really?

  “I figured you’d be off toying with Lawrence’s affections,” I say, regretting it immediately. I sound like a sullen, jealous idiot.

  “Oh please. I can play with both of my boys.” She smiles winningly and settles herself in one of the chairs across from my desk. “I wanted to talk to you. I’ve heard rumors.”

  I’m instantly wary. “What sort of rumors?”

  “That you went to dinner with Violet last night.” She makes a tsking noise, shaking her head. “I thought you were giving up that part of the game.”

  “You wanted me to give it up,” I point out. “I never agreed.”

  “You should. It’s pointless, what you’re doing. She’s a little nothing.” She flicks her fingers, as if she could dismiss Violet from the room, from my thoughts. “You’re wasting your time.”

  “You already told me that. Numerous times.” I level her with my most intense stare. “But I’m going to do what I want.”

  “And what is that? Violet?”

  “Does it really matter? You’ve changed the rules of the original game. I’m going to do my own thing and you’ll do yours.” We each want a different outcome. She, for whatever twisted reason, wants to take Violet out and I want to take Violet to bed.

  She pushes her lips into an exaggerated pout. “I miss you, Ryder. It’s not the same.”

  I want to roll my eyes but restrain myself. “It all went down only two nights ago, Pilar. You act like we haven’t talked in months.”

  “It feels like it.” She shrugs, turning toward the window that faces downtown. “I’m afraid you won’t care about me anymore when you fall for Violet.”

  “Who says I’m going to fall for her? And I will always care about you. You know this,” I reassure her. I sound like I’m on repeat, saying the same thing to her over and over again. I’ve said the same words so many times, they’re starting to mean nothing.

  “You’ll fall for her. Every man seems to fall for her. I don’t understand why. She’s nothing special. Just some weak, stupid little girl who can barely hold her shit together. The other one is too tough to make up for that disgustingly beautiful face of hers, and the oldest one is a complete whorish mess.” Pilar leans forward so she’s perched on the edge of her seat. “The Fowler sisters are falling apart. Their grandmother and their father will see eventually, and maybe then they’ll let an outsider come in to run the company.”

  “I’m assuming you believe you’re the perfect person to do that?” Now I do roll my eyes. “Give me a break, Pilar. If that ever happens, we’re still a long way out. Focus on doing what you can here and then move on to another cosmetics company. Or a fashion house. Something bigger and better than this.”

  She reaches out and punches the edge of my desk with her fist, her face full of fury. “I want this company,” she says through clenched teeth. “This is what matters to me. Fleur. Nothing else. That they continue to practice such blatant nepotism when those two girls can barely keep their shit together is beyond me.”

  I glance at the screen of my desktop, see that I have a new email. From Violet. I tune out Pilar as she continues her diatribe and read what Violet wrote.

  Dear Ryder,

  I hope you didn’t think me rude with the way our phone call ended. It’s been bothering me and I hate to imagine you being offended over my hanging up on you. You mentioned someone had come into your office. Well, someone had come into mine too.

  If that hadn’t happened, who knows where our conversation could’ve taken us? Somewhere exciting, I’m thinking. But of course, having these sorts of conversations via the company phone or company email isn’t the smartest route, correct?

  So here’s my cell number: (212) 555-2624. You can send yours if you want. In fact, I would love it if you did. That way if I need anything from you … in regards to the new project … you’re merely a text away.

  I’m looking forward to our lunch meeting. I know you’ll show me plenty of new ideas that will keep me begging for more.

  Yours,

  V

  “… and I’m not going to bother giving you any more details because you’ll just end up jealous. You’re a complete asshole when you’re jealous, you know.”

  I blink Pilar into focus, trying my best to remember what she just said, but there’s no use. I’m still mulling over Violet’s email. The subtle innuendo wrapped up in a perfect, politely worded package. For once I’d love to see the woman say something blatantly dirty. “What?” I ask blankly.

  Pilar is staring at me as if she wants to smack me across the face. Can’t say that I blame her, especially when all I can think of is the way Violet signs off her emails. I like the use of “yours.” It’s cute and perhaps even a submissive gesture. As if she really wants to be mine.

  I’m probably reading too much into it, but the word choice is sexy as fuck, even if she didn’t mean it to be that way.

  “You’re not even paying attention. Too wrapped up in thoughts of what? Fucking around with Violet? I’m sure she’ll be delightful.” Pilar stands and approaches my desk, then leans over the edge of it. “You’re playing with fire, Big Daddy. And you’re going to go up in flames if you don’t stay focused and on the ball.”

  “I’m one hundred percent focused,” I tell her assuredly. On Violet, most definitely. On whatever crap Pilar is feeding me?

  Not at all.

  “Just not on me.” She gives me another pout, but I don’t even blink an eye. It means nothing anyway. She’s just trying to get under my skin.

  “You have Lawrence to distract you,” I tell her. “You don�
�t need me. Enjoy him these next few days. Fuck his brains out and then drill him for information. He’ll give in to you while in that post-orgasmic glow. I know how you operate.”

  She smiles at me, the very picture of peaceful and serene. What a pack of lies. Inside that devious head of hers she’s trying to come up with a new way to fuck everyone over. Including me. “I could have the best of both worlds if you weren’t so jealous.”

  “Sorry, not going to let you touch me after you just had your hands all over Lawrence’s dick.” A man can only tolerate so much.

  “Disgusting pig.” Pilar stands to her full height, snarling at me. “You’re all the same. The minute another man shows a hint of interest, you’re casting me off. Learn to live with it, darling. I’m fucking Zachary Lawrence.”

  “Really? Well, learn to live with this, Pilar.” I cup my hands together and lean forward, my elbows propped on the top of my desk. “I’m fucking Violet Fowler.”

  “In your dreams,” she returns.

  “It’s going to happen.”

  “How? That girl is as tight as a virgin kept under lock and key. And closed off like a little ice queen, too. Zachary told me she’s a terrible lay.”

  More like he’s an awful, selfish asshole who didn’t know how to meet Violet’s needs. “I’ll find out if that’s true or not on my own terms, thank you very much.”

  “God.” She’s leaving. Thank Christ. “You don’t listen to me. Fine, have fun fucking around with your little boring baby. Can’t wait to see how she puts the spark in your eyes while I’m off getting fucked like crazy every chance I can get.”

  I ignore what she said, which I know will drive her crazier than if I acknowledged it and continued the fight. “We’ll talk later,” I say to her as she leaves and she gives me the finger before flouncing out the door.

  “Maybe I never want to talk to you again. Ever think about that, asshole?” she calls from the hallway.

  Huh. That went terribly. I rub my hand over my jaw, hoping like hell not too many people heard that send-off. Not that we haven’t argued like this before around the halls of Fleur, but it’s been a while. I take my job seriously. I’m trying to look like I can keep this together. Like I’m worthy of the London position—or one similar—just like Lawrence is. The only reason that asshole got the offer was for being involved with Violet. It gave him the in to old man Fowler. The in that I would fucking love to have.

  Well. He isn’t with Violet any longer. I’m about to be. Secretly, but still. Soon we’ll be out in the open. Soon I can cozy up to Forrest Fowler. Get into that man’s back pocket so he’ll really see what an asset I am to the company. That’s what I want.

  And that’s what I’ll damn well get.

  Chapter Eleven

  Violet

  I tap my foot against the floor of the crowded elevator, my gaze locked on the numbers above the door. The countdown takes forever and I suck in a loud breath, drawing the attention of more than a few of my fellow Fleur employees in the elevator with me.

  They’re all on their lunch break, ready to get out of the elevator and make their escape. So am I. But I’m not hungry. At least, not for food.

  The elevator slows and then stops, the doors sliding open with a smooth whoosh. I push through the crowd and exit, noticing a few murmurings from the people within, probably wondering what I’m doing on the tenth floor when most are on their lunch hour.

  I don’t care what they say. What they think. I already have an excuse prepared if anyone asks. It’s a lunch meeting with Ryder, the head of packaging. We’re both so busy that our jam-packed schedules only allowed us to meet at noon. It’s normal. I’ve had multiple business meetings over lunch. This is nothing new.

  But it is new, what we’re really doing. I’ve never had a lunch … rendezvous. A nooner. An affair. Dalliance. Whatever sordid word you want to call it.

  Coming to a halt in front of the tenth-floor reception desk—which is abandoned, thank goodness—I rest my hand on my chest, feel my crazily beating heart beneath my palm. Maybe I shouldn’t go through with this. I broke up with Zachary only a few days ago. He stopped me in front of my office first thing this morning, trying to get me to talk to him, go have coffee with him, something, anything for a bit of time alone with me.

  I told him no. Had been so proud of my firm refusal of him, too. I’d seen Rose lingering in the background, offering me a thumbs-up when Zachary walked away. The surge of pride that had flowed through me felt good. Felt right. I was taking command of my life, my emotions, my needs, for once. Zachary didn’t fit into that anymore. Had he ever? It had always been about him, our relationship. It centered on his wants and needs. Never mine.

  I’d been on such a high, I’d gone right into my office and started the online search for the perfect red tie. Something gloriously sophisticated and expensive and sexy and elegant. I clicked on my favorite store sites until I finally found the one I knew he would love. And I loved it too.

  When he called me and thanked me in that deep, sexy voice of his, I’d wanted to melt.

  My cell dings that I have a text message and I pull it out of my purse to find a number I don’t recognize, along with a simple message.

  I see you.

  Glancing around, I see that no one else is nearby. The offices appear mostly empty. The entire floor has a hushed quality to it that I almost find unnerving.

  Or maybe that’s just me, completely unnerved and worried about what I’m about to do.

  My phone beeps again.

  You’re late.

  And then there’s another message.

  We only have fifty minutes to indulge in our appetizer lunch. I suggest you head over to my office now.

  The pleasure that blooms across my chest at the texts from Ryder makes me rush down the hall only to find him already standing there, leaning against the wall opposite his office, his arms folded across his chest, his biceps straining the fabric of his snowy white shirt. He must have taken off his jacket; he’s clad in only the shirt, black trousers, and a silvery gray tie. His hair is in the usual tousle, his eyes glittering as I come closer.

  “You made it,” he says when I stop just in front of him.

  “Sorry I’m late.” I swallow away the nerves as best I can, hating how jittery I sound. “It’s been crazy this morning.”

  “Same with me.” He grabs hold of my elbow and leads me into his office, closing and locking the door behind us. The click of the lock is loud in the silence and my gaze roams over the interior of the room, noticing that the red tie is sitting in its box on top of his desk.

  “Do you really like it?” I ask when I turn to him, adding when I see his confused frown, “The tie?”

  The slow smile that crosses his handsome face makes my insides tremble. “Oh yes, very much.” He takes a step closer to me, reaching out to drift his fingers down the length of my arm. “Almost as much as this dress you’re wearing.”

  The dress is simple, in a subtle black-and-white patterned fabric that fits me well but isn’t too terribly sexy. I feel confident in it, though. Another suit of armor for me to wear. “Th-thank you,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the sensations his fingers on my skin pull from me. He entangles his fingers with mine and jerks me to him, our bodies colliding, fitting against each other when he slips his other arm around my waist.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers just before he dips his head and presses his warm, damp lips to the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, resting my hands blindly on the solid wall of his chest. “We’ll take this slow. An appetizer, remember?”

  I want to laugh at our silly choice of words. I want to moan when his lips blaze a trail across my skin. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as I anchor myself to him. He slips his hand down my back until he’s gripping my butt and he hauls me into him. I can already feel him, big and thick. He’s hard. Hard for me.

  I can’t believe I can make a man like him react like this. That he wants me. Me. Mo
st of the women who work at Fleur find him to be a mystery they can’t figure out. But hopefully he’ll let me in.

  “What do you want, Violet?” he asks when he lifts his head, his hazy blue eyes meeting mine. I part my lips, ready to say I have no idea, but he takes advantage, kissing me before I can say a word.

  And what a kiss it is. Again there’s no gentleness, no sweet exploration. He plunders my mouth with his tongue, twisting it around mine in a rhythm I can only imagine he would use while he thrusts inside my body. I can do nothing but respond, my eager hands roaming all over his chest, clutching his shoulders as I move into him. As if I want to become a part of him.

  “Well?” he asks seconds, minutes later. His breathing is harsh, his shirt a wrinkled mess from my seeking hands. I keep this up and I’ll ruin all of his clothes. “What do you want from me?”

  I stare up at him, at a loss for words. How can I express to him exactly what I want when I hardly know myself? I’m scared to say it. Embarrassed, too. I’ve never spoken freely about sex. That’s more Lily’s style. Which is silly because I’m a grown woman with needs and wants, just like everyone else. I’ve been with other men. I’ve had orgasms, plenty of them. Brought on by myself, by a vibrator, by a man. Mostly brought on by myself …

  “Do you want me to touch you?” He presses his lips to my forehead, his hand still gripping my backside. “Do you want me to make you come?” he whispers against my skin.

  Oh God. Everything inside me goes hot and loose and I nod, keeping my eyes tightly closed. “Yes,” I say shakily.

  He moves away from me, and the loss of his heat, his strength, makes my eyes pop open. “Strip,” he commands, his tone firm.

  I gape at him. “What?”

  “Take off your clothes, Violet.” He smiles, his gaze roving over me, hungry and unfettered. “At least the dress. For now.”

  No man has ever demanded that I strip in front of him. Usually they undress me. Or it’s a hurried frenzy of pulling off clothes in bed, in the dark, whatever, eager to get naked quick.