Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  “Violet is her daddy’s favorite,” she practically spits out, the disgust written all over her pretty face, making her look rather … ugly. “He never stops praising her. She can do no wrong in his eyes. With her out of the way, he’ll need to focus on someone else. Rose doesn’t have the chops. Lily is a fucking mess who will never work a day in her life. Violet’s the only one with true focus. The one the fucking grandma believes in.”

  “The fucking grandma? You mean the woman who founded this company?” That she speaks of Dahlia Fowler with such disrespect when she’s revered by everyone at Fleur surprises me.

  And that she speaks of having conversations about Violet with Forrest Fowler so casually surprises me as well.

  “Whatever. I’m sick of all the nepotism that goes on around here. I deserve a fair shake.” She slams her fist on her desk. “I’m damn good at what I do and it’s about time someone recognized it.”

  “Christ, Pilar.” I say her name softly, startling her. She’s ruthless. One has to be to get as far as she has in this business. She’s determined and a hard worker and she’s never backed down from a challenge. Hell, I think she relishes them.

  She’s also a troublemaker and she’d fully admit that. She has no problem having a tantrum, either, kicking and screaming and making unreasonable demands until she gets what she wants.

  I wonder if that’s worked for her on someone else lately. Like Zachary. Or …

  Forrest Fowler.

  “What? You act like this is a big surprise. You know I should run Fleur someday, and the only way it won’t happen is if Forrest hands over the reins to Violet. So I’ll get rid of her and the obstacle is out of my way. It’ll be easy, especially with your help. When she realizes that we’ve been working together against her all along …”

  Fear races through me. I’m trying to trick a tricky bitch. Everything is riding on how I handle it.

  And how Violet handles it, too.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Violet

  “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

  I offer Zachary a tight smile but say nothing. I’m afraid if I talk too much I’ll blow my cover. Or worse, accuse him of being an asshole cheater, then run out of the restaurant.

  Ryder would be disappointed in me. And that is the last thing I want.

  Well. Besides Zachary.

  “How’s your salad?” he asks. He’s on his best behavior, taking me to my favorite Italian restaurant, buying the most expensive wine on the menu in honor of our celebration—his words. The celebration of my giving our relationship another go after all—he’s positively thrilled.

  I feel one part glad that I’m getting some sort of revenge against Zachary, and two parts completely awful for doing this to him.

  “It’s delicious.” I stare down at my Caprese salad, admiring the perfectly sliced tomatoes and mozzarella, the vibrant leaves of basil and the drizzle of balsamic vinegar. This is my favorite salad, my go-to when nothing else sounds good on the menu.

  But my appetite is gone. Being with Zachary feels wrong.

  Dreadfully, horribly wrong.

  “Not hungry?” He sends me a soulful look. One that I used to fall for. “You usually devour that salad like a starving woman.”

  His remark sets my teeth on edge. Is he somehow implying that I eat too much? I’m making a big deal out of nothing, I’m sure. But I can’t help but feel defensive every time I’m with him. “I had a late lunch,” I lie.

  I had lunch with Rose and listened to her talk about an ex-boyfriend who’s giving her trouble, how Father seems to be ignoring her, and that the brunch with Lily drove her nuts. I’m the one who normally gets them to play fair and talk nice when we’re all together. It’s the middle child in me. So without me there, Lily got snarky, Rose got defensive, and they ended up arguing.

  Again, I feel responsible, since I left them to meet with Ryder. He called me a distraction earlier in his office. I have to confess he’s a distraction for me as well. A sexy, delicious one, but a distraction nonetheless.

  And he makes me do things … things I could never imagine contemplating, let alone actually doing, before. I’ve been an achy mess all day just thinking about him.

  I’m still an achy mess. I miss him. I want him. And I’m stuck with Zachary.

  “A meeting?”

  “No, lunch with my sister.” Let’s see if he asks which one. If he asks how she’s doing. If he asks anything personal. Most of the time he’s so full of himself, he doesn’t give others much consideration.

  So again, why was I with him for so long?

  “How was that?” he asks sarcastically. “Lily complaining how Daddy cut her off yet again?”

  “No, it was with Rose.” Hmm. He’s making conversation like his old self. Making snide remarks, but I guess I can let them slide. Talk about being on his best behavior. “We haven’t talked much lately, so we were catching up.”

  “Uh-huh.” I’ve lost his interest. I can tell by the way he watches the pretty waitress pass us by, his gaze glued to her swishing backside. Guess he hasn’t changed much after all.

  “Are you excited about leaving?” I ask brightly. When he looks at me strangely I add, “For London.”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course.” He busies himself by drinking from his water glass, wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, then pulling another piece of bread from the basket that rests in the center of the table. “You sure you want to talk about this?”

  He’s nervous? How very strange—and it’s somewhat refreshing. I’m the one who’s usually walking on eggshells. “If we’re going to work on our relationship, we need to be completely upfront.” I wince the moment the words leave me. I’m a liar. And I never lie. I hate what Ryder’s making me do.

  “You’re right.” He visibly relaxes. “I just … I need to know something first. Before I say anything else.”

  “What?”

  “Are you still speaking to McKay?” The scowl on Zachary’s attractive face is nothing short of furious.

  “No.” I slowly shake my head and press my lips together. I hate denying it. Denying Ryder. I want to talk to him. I need to see him. He promised he would come over tonight, but what if he doesn’t show? What if he falls back into Pilar’s trap and I’m left with Zachary?

  I’d deserve it for being deceitful. It doesn’t matter if Zachary’s deceitful too. A lie for a lie isn’t right, no matter how much I can justify it.

  “Good.” His features even out and he’s once more attractive, charming Zachary. “Trade secrets, you know. I don’t want that asshole finding out any details about my promotion.”

  Now I’m really curious. And willing to test the waters. “You know … my father mentioned the position to me.”

  “He did? What did he say? Anything about me?”

  Such an egomaniac. “Well … yes. But he also said that he believed I would do well in London.”

  “You?” He sounds shocked. And even mildly disgusted. “You’re not interested in anything like that.”

  “How do you know?” I ask indignantly. I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when the cute waitress appears with our dinners. She sets the plate of chicken Marsala in front of me as I push aside my salad, then settles a plate of lasagna in front of Zachary. He smiles at the waitress as she flirts with him while I watch them both, silently steaming.

  I hate this. I want to grab the back of Zachary’s head and smash his face in that steaming-hot lasagna. I want to hear him scream and feel him struggle. I want to call him out on his sexist ways and bully approach.

  But I do none of that. I smile at the waitress even when she glares at me and I push my chicken around on the plate like I haven’t a care in the world, while I watch Zachary shovel giant forkfuls of lasagna into his mouth.

  Ugh. He’s repulsive.

  “You’ll come visit me soon, right?” he asks after five minutes of long, almost painful silence.

  “Oh, yes,” I say, setting my fork down
on my plate. I’m giving up. I’m just not hungry. “It’s been years since I’ve been to London.”

  “We’ll check out the sights together. And go to Paris.” He smiles, knowing that’s exactly what I want. He’s just trying to please me. Trying to suck me into his web until I’m trapped and back in the same position I was in before.

  Stuck and miserable.

  My cell buzzes and I check it discreetly, my heart pounding when I see it’s a text from Ryder. I read his words slowly, savoring them, trying to repress the smile that wants to break free.

  I miss you.

  He confuses me. He’s cold. He’s hot. I can’t figure him out.

  I’m with Zachary, I tell him to see if I get a rise out of him.

  It works.

  Tell that asshole you need to go home and I’ll meet you at your place.

  I can practically hear his growling, sexy voice. A shiver moves through me as I hurriedly peck out my response.

  I can’t leave yet. We’re eating dinner.

  Fuck dinner.

  But I’m hungry.

  Come fuck me instead.

  “Who are you texting?”

  “Oh.” I glance up, clutching my phone tight, covering the screen. It’s in my lap, so Zachary can’t see anything, but still. “It’s, um, Lily. She wants to meet for breakfast this weekend.”

  “Tell her you have plans this weekend with me.” He flashes me a smug smile.

  “I can’t ignore my sisters, Zachary. You know how important they are to me,” I reprimand him.

  “And I’m not important? I know I need to prove myself to you, Violet. I should consider myself damn lucky you’re giving me this chance, and I do. But I’m leaving in a few days and I’d really like to spend any free time I have with you.” The sincerity glowing in his eyes is hard to ignore, but is it for real? This is such a turnaround from the man who announced he was leaving and that he didn’t have much time for me, what with all his preparations.

  My phone buzzes in my palm and I glance down, Ryder’s impatience blatant in his one-worded text.

  Well?

  Lifting my head, I offer Zachary an apologetic smile as I stand, still clutching the phone. “Do you mind if I call her real quick? I won’t be long.”

  “Go.” He waves me away with an irritated glare and I flee, finding a secluded spot near the bathrooms so I can make my call.

  “Tell me you’ve left,” Ryder answers, all growly and sexy.

  “I haven’t. I snuck away from him to call you,” I say, glancing around to make sure no one is paying attention to me lurking in the dark near the restrooms.

  “Tell him an emergency came up and you need to leave.”

  “What sort of emergency?”

  “I don’t know. That you need to get fucked and the only one that can do it for you is me?”

  “Ryder.” I close my eyes and lean against the wall. “You told me we needed to be discreet.”

  “I didn’t think it would bother me so much that you’re with him,” he says, sounding as confused as I feel.

  “You think I like it that you’re spending time with Pilar?” I throw back at him.

  He remains quiet. His usual mode when he doesn’t know what to say.

  “We’re almost finished,” I say quietly. “I’ll beg off and tell him I have a headache. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

  “Ten minutes,” he says tightly. “If you don’t text me in ten minutes, there will be hell to pay.”

  Everything inside of me goes liquid. “What do you mean?”

  “Test me and find out.” And then he’s gone.

  Releasing a shuddering sigh, I go into the women’s bathroom and wash my hands, then splash cool water on my heated cheeks. I tear off a paper towel and stare at my reflection as I dry my hands and pat at my cheeks.

  Who am I? What has happened to me since Ryder so casually walked into my life and turned it upside down? I’m pretending to want to be with my ex-boyfriend while texting my lover on the side. The very man who demands that I come back to his place or there will be hell to pay.

  I remember what he did to me last night. His hand around my throat as he fucked me … when he spanked me …

  God. That had been so shocking. Yet I want more. I crave more.

  On shaky legs, I return to my table with Zachary and settle in, grabbing my glass of water and gulping it all down in a few swallows.

  “You all right?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

  “I have a terrible headache. All the stress I’ve been dealing with lately …” I offer him a trembling smile, hoping my subtle guilt trip works. “I’m afraid I need to cut this short.”

  “I understand.” He leaps to his feet and helps me out of my chair as if I’m fragile. I let him escort me out of the restaurant, regret filling me that I didn’t enjoy my meal. My nerves are frazzled, my mind is fuzzy, and between my legs I’m wet and throbbing.

  Because I know soon I’ll be with Ryder. And I’m almost hoping there will be hell to pay.

  How sick am I?

  The moment I enter the lobby of my building I see him. Pacing near the bank of elevators, the expression on his face fierce. He doesn’t even notice me at first, what with the way he’s scowling and staring at the ground, and I watch him for one unguarded moment, loving the way he checks his cell. In the hopes he has a message from me, perhaps?

  I clear my throat and he whirls around, his expression softening in an instant. But he remains coolly impassive, keeping his distance as I approach him and reach out, pressing the button for the penthouse floor.

  “Hi,” I murmur, stepping back.

  “Hello,” he greets in return, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his dark-rinse jeans. He looks amazing. The spring night has turned cool and he’s wearing a black Henley shirt that hugs his torso, his biceps straining against the sleeves. I always see him in suits—or naked—and I savor these moments when I get to admire him in such casual clothing.

  He looks good no matter what he wears.

  “Having a nice evening?” he asks as if he’s a complete stranger making polite conversation.

  “Not really,” I admit truthfully.

  He raises a single brow, the subtle move so sexy it takes my breath away. “And why’s that?”

  “I was with a man I don’t … like very much.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I know.” I pause, deciding whether I should say what I want or not. I go for it. “I’d much rather spend my time with someone else.”

  “Really?” The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Ryder holds out his arm, indicating I should enter the car first. He follows in after me and leans against the wall opposite of where I stand. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like in order to get what we want.”

  I press my lips together and employ one of his tricks by saying nothing.

  The doors close and the elevator starts to rise. I remain where I stand and so does he, but the palpable tension between us grows with every second that passes, with every floor we climb.

  “So. Was I late?” I ask, my voice small, my insides quaking with anticipation.

  “Did you want to be?” he asks.

  “You said there would be hell to pay if I was.”

  A smile curls his beautiful lips. “Are you telling me you’re in the mood to pay, Violet? Or should I say … play?”

  Oh, God. He’s so bad. “Is that what we’re doing? Playing?”

  He stares at me, his hands gripping the rail behind him. His stance is casual, but I can feel the tension in him. He’s coiled tight, ready to pounce, and I can only hope he’s ready to unleash all of that built-up sexual tension all over me.

  The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. I exit without looking back, feeling his magnetic presence as he falls into step behind me. I stop to unlock my door, stiffening when he presses close, my breath catching as he trails a finger across the exposed skin along my shoulder and the back of my neck
.

  “Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low, rumbling from deep within his chest. He doesn’t have to say Zachary’s name. I know exactly who he’s talking about.

  I shake my head, my fingers fumbling with the lock. “N-no.”

  “Good.” He steps even closer, his entire body pressed against mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the hard, delicious feel of him. “Open the door, Violet.”

  My fingers falter again and he reaches out, pushing them away so he can take over. I feel the hard length of his erect cock nudging against my ass and my breath catches in my throat. He’s surrounding me. Taking over. And he makes me so weak I don’t want him to stop.

  The door somehow opens and we both rush inside, Ryder slamming and locking the door before turning to me, his hands cupping my face as he kisses me. I kiss him back with everything I have, dropping my purse to the floor before I reach for the waistband of his jeans and undo the button fly with surprising efficiency.

  He breaks the kiss for a quick second to tear off his shirt before he’s going back in, his tongue and lips working their usual magic over me. I shove his jeans down his hips and he kicks them as well as his shoes off, revealing that he’s not wearing underwear. My eyes are closed but I know this because when I reach for him, my hand comes in contact with his very erect, very thick cock.

  I stroke him, grip him tight, and he groans in agony. The sound fuels me and I suck his tongue deep into my mouth, my entire body clenching with anticipation.

  “I can’t figure out how to get this damn dress off of you,” he mutters as he pushes me away. I turn my back toward him and he undoes the zipper, shoving at my dress so it practically falls off me. I step out of it and turn to face him once more, standing in my virginal white lacy bra and matching panties, feeling not so virginal as I see the way he studies me.

  As if he wants to swallow me whole.

  He licks his lips as if anticipating a particularly delicious meal and he slowly approaches me. “How do you want me tonight?”