Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  The door slams shut and it reminds me of earlier this morning. A door slammed. I’d been on the phone with Mr. Collins. She’d been upset then too.

  Don’t worry, Violet…I see you now.

  “Don’t.”

  I blink away the thoughts of her and glare at Bull. “What?”

  “Don’t do it. Let her go. That woman has been here for six years busting her ass for you, and you’re just now realizing she’s here. But it’s your dick that finally sees her. Call Elisha. She’ll take care of that nosy little dick of yours and you can get back to focusing on shit that matters. Like the Collins deal.” He takes his glasses off and scrubs his face as if this entire afternoon is exhausting him.

  And I’ve never felt so refreshed.

  I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve learned everything there is to know about Violet O. Simmons.

  “You’re right,” I lie as I gather the paperwork on my desk. “Let me finish going over some stuff. I’ll lock up tonight.”

  He narrows his gaze at me but doesn’t say a word in argument as he slips his glasses back on and stands. “Want to grab a beer later?”

  I nod and wave him off. I’m antsy. I want my best friend to leave me be so I can do a little research. Twenty long minutes later, I hear his keys jangling against the glass of the front doors of our floor as he leaves.

  I’m all alone.

  The first thing I do is flip open my laptop. Facebook is where you learn a whole lot about a person. It takes a minute to find her, and when I do, I’m disappointed. She has it locked down. All I’m privy to is her name and her profile picture. Instead of her face, she has a picture of the ocean. Her cover photo is some vague quote.

  My past has not defined me, destroyed me, deterred me; it has only strengthened me. – Steve Maraboli.

  I’m dying to know what sort of things she posts, but it’s all fucking private. I can’t even tell how many friends she has. Does she have friends here at the office? Is Bull her friend? Another blossom of irritation surges in my chest. I’ve had this stunning woman strutting into my office several times a day and I have never paid one ounce of attention to her. Granted, I don’t know ninety percent of the people who work for me, but this feels different. This feels like an injustice. Like I’ve been duped.

  With a huff, I rise and stride out of my office. Her desk sits right outside my door. Everything is neat and in order. Pride swells inside me. My assistant isn’t messy or disorderly. She’s organized like me. Perhaps that is why she was chosen to work for me in the first place. Bull knows me better than I know myself. I don’t deal with the employees or HR. He does and is good at it.

  I sit in her stiff chair and let out a groan. The damn thing isn’t nearly as comfortable as my plush leather one. I’ve just sat down and my back already hurts. I make a mental note to order her a new one. Brown. Like the non-shiny parts of her hair. Everything has a place on her desk. A company coaster sits right beside her mouse. All of her pens and papers have been put away. Nothing except her phone and computer and the coaster adorn the desk. One corner is especially empty. I want to fill it. I will fill it.

  Inhaling, I almost crack another rare smile when I catch a whiff of her lingering scent. A hint of coffee mixed with her sweet floral perfume. I wonder how she would smell the exact moment she spritzes on her perfume and steps out of her bedroom. Would it be intense or faint?

  I will find out.

  Using an age-old trick, I lift her keyboard and am elated to find a sticky note with her passwords written on it. The same one for all of her logins. SurViV0r.

  It only takes a couple of moments to get logged on to her computer. All of her folders are arranged neatly. Her spreadsheets of my clients are all in a manner I approve of. She has many detailed notes from meetings. Meticulous logs of calls made to me and visitors who have come to see me. I also see where she’s run data on properties. Checked on sales prices and values. Run comparison analyses. The works. Aside from bringing me my coffee and fielding my calls, I’m not sure what she does for my company. Apparently, though, she does a lot for her own information. None of the data she collects goes anywhere except her spreadsheets.

  Skipping over to her email, I’m also pleased to see how neat and organized it is. All that sits in her inbox is an email from HR indicating they’ve also received a copy of her resignation. Ignoring the annoyance that someone else knows about her attempt to quit, I find a folder in her emails called: Ideas for the Idiot.

  I pop it open to find hundreds if not thousands of emails to me. I blink several times to allow what I’m seeing to soak in. These emails are simply saved as drafts. She never sent them. Some are of her telling me off. Those make me crack another smile. Most, though, are of her making suggestions. Or providing analytical details on properties. A lot of her emails could have been really damn helpful.

  Why didn’t she send them?

  I press send on several of the emails that could be useful, especially the data for the Collins venture, before closing out her email and opening the Internet. Once I pull up Facebook, I type in SurViV0r. I’m immediately granted access to her account.

  The first place I click is her friends. I’m dying to know who she’s friends with here at my company. I scan through all thirty-six friends. None are Bull. None are Clint from HR. Other than that, I don’t know these people.

  I’m not her friend, though.

  That’s okay because I want to be more than friends. I will be more than friends with her.

  Scanning through her friend requests, I delete all the males who requested to be her friend. I don’t like those creepy fuckers. She doesn’t have any common friends with them. They’re probably just trying to weasel some nude pics out of her. Over my goddamned dead body. Once they’re deleted, I check her messages. Most are silly and lame. People sending her jokes or chain letter shit or funny memes. Her Facebook has no real substance to it. All of her posts are motivational memes and the occasional picture of the ocean.

  I make my mind up right then to take her to the ocean one day.

  I’m scanning through old pictures when a new message pops up.

  Sean Slante: Congrats again! I just wanted to let you know we’re looking forward to having you join the team. I’ve already ordered you a computer and Janine has put in an order for your nameplate. If you have any questions about the job, I’m open to meet up for coffee or even a beer. This weekend is pretty open. Hell, I could even see you tonight if you want to talk about how things went today when you put in your notice. You have my cell so just shoot me a text. Talk soon, Letty.

  By the time I finish reading the message, I’m blind with rage. I want to tell the fucker off. Tell him he’s not taking my assistant. That he’s an unprofessional twit to private message her. That she will not be having a fucking beer with him.

  Instead, I tamper down my fury and close out of everything. I’ll have to play my cards right. Just like acquisitions. I’ll put in my time. Analyze the details. Make smart moves.

  Violet O. Simmons is mine.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  T-minus fourteen days…

  CHAPTER THREE

  VIOLET

  I FEEL LIGHTER.

  Resolved.

  Like I should celebrate.

  And that’s the only reason I agreed to meet Sean Slante over at an Irish pub for a round of beers. He’ll be my new boss soon, and it’ll take some getting used to that he actually acknowledges me, knows my name, and recognizes me as an asset.

  Unlike him.

  My thoughts flit back to earlier. When I’d boldly slapped my notice on Grayson Maxwell’s desk. How, for the first time in six years, he’d looked at me. A shiver courses through me at that thought. His icy blue eyes were narrowed but curious. I felt as though he were peeling off my clothes with every second that passed. With just one look. It was unnerving and a tiny bit satisfying.

  I hope he liked what he saw.

  I hope he realized what an idiot he w
as for not noticing what a hard worker I was.

  The moment that I had his attention, though, it was strange. Too intense. Too much. Maybe it truly was a blessing that he’d not paid me any mind all these years. I think if he looked at me that way from the very beginning, my job would have been a whole helluva lot harder.

  I could have gotten lost in that gaze.

  Swallowing down my irritation, I scan the bar for Sean. He’s still not here yet. I nurse my beer and worry about my outfit. I didn’t want to wear work attire but I also didn’t want to appear too casual for my new boss. In the end, I’d settled on a black fitted dress and a pair of trendy matching ankle boots. My long legs are bare, unlike how I wear them to work, but I’m still maintaining some elegance. A part of me had leaned toward jeans but I’m still trying to make an impression, despite my accepting his offer.

  “Letty!” a deep voice booms.

  When I see Sean, I smile and slip out of the booth. He looks handsome in his dark jeans and powder blue, button-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and he’s gone without a tie. I let out a sigh of relief that I’m neither overdressed nor underdressed compared to him.

  “Hi,” I greet and extend my arm.

  The friendly man bypasses my handshake and pulls me in for a hug. He smells nice, but I can’t tell if it’s because he truly does or the fact I haven’t been this close to a man in a long time. I give him a polite hug back. When he pulls away, he doesn’t release me at first. His lips are pulled up into a half smile.

  “I’m so glad you could meet up,” he tells me, his eyes flickering with concern. “I know Mad Max. He can be quite the pill sometimes. Was he okay with your resignation? Did the crazy old bastard throw his desk around?”

  Again with the Mad Max.

  I try not to feel defensive over the man who ignored me for six years. Sean is a nice guy. He’s not trying to be catty. If anything, he seems excited to have me, which is a huge change from what I’m used to.

  Pulling away, I slide from his grip and sit back down. Thankfully, he plops down across from me. His long legs brush against my own under the table.

  “He seemed surprised,” I admit before sipping my beer. “I don’t think it really sunk in. Probably won’t until I’m gone.”

  Sean smirks and waves over a waitress. Once she takes his order, he directs his green eyes back over to mine. “You’re just a number over there, Letty. At Slante, you’re a person. Everyone at my company is recognized for their hard work. I know you’ll fit right in.”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I know I’m not the most experienced person but I’m a quick learner.”

  He gives me a wink. “You’ll do fine. And if you ever have any trouble, you come see me. We’ll sort it out.”

  When he starts talking about a row of Brownstones he’s working on a loan for, something catches my gaze in the window. A shadowed figure leans against a wall between two buildings. It appears to be a masculine figure. He’s tall and broad-shouldered. The man simply stares straight at us. Sometimes my imagination plays tricks on me. Vaughn is in my nightmares so it’s only fitting he’s in my reality too.

  But I know he doesn’t know where I am.

  I’ve been careful.

  Besides, if it were Vaughn, he wouldn’t simply sit outside and watch me have a beer with another man. He’d come in here with guns literally blazing and accost me right in front of everyone.

  A shudder ripples through me. When I glance back outside, the figure is gone. Another figment. Always a figment.

  “Hey,” Sean says with a husky laugh, his knee brushing against mine under the table. “I think I lost you there.”

  I snap my attention to him. His eyebrows are pinched together as if he’s trying to figure me out. He’ll never figure out my messy head.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him with a forced chuckle. My hand pats his on the table. “It was a long, stressful day.”

  Mischief dances in his green eyes. “How about we resolve to have no more of those types of days? I have just the thing to get you on the right foot.”

  Just the thing turns out to be shots of tequila. And while I was hesitant at first to drink with my new boss, I immediately gave in when he gave me exaggerated puppy dog eyes. Sean is friendly and funny. I’ve been strutting along for so long with a stick up my ass that it’s nice to relax for once. By the third shot, I’m warm and giggly.

  Sean disappears to go to the restroom, and I check my phone. I’m not sure why but I’d hoped for some kind of “please don’t quit” message from the sexy Grayson Maxwell. Despite his apparent shock and annoyance of my resignation, he sure as hell hasn’t tried to get me to stay.

  “Miss me?” Sean questions with a chuckle when he comes sauntering back with more shots in his hands. He sidles into the booth beside me and pushes two shots toward me. “To new beginnings.” His grin is wide and flirty. “To new valuable employees.”

  I swat at him. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.” But I’m smiling. Truth is, it’s nice that he sees such potential in me.

  His arm stretches out behind me across the back of the booth, and he leans in. “I’m not. I knew it the moment I read your résumé. Now drink or I’ll consider it insubordination.”

  Laughing, I grab my shot and drain it down.

  “Good girl,” he teases and runs his fingers along the outside of my arm.

  I shiver and pick up the second shot. Once I drain that one, I look at him with a lifted brow. “Who says I’m good?”

  It’s been ages since I’ve been out with friends and done something as simple as joke around. Sean’s gaze darkens and he doesn’t respond. He sucks down both of his shots before slamming them back down on the table. “You’re trouble,” he says, his voice hoarse.

  Warmth surges through me. I’m happy. I am finally leaving a dead end job and running toward a future. After a lifetime of mistakes, I’m going to start making something of myself.

  “Thank you,” I tell him with a sigh and lean against him. I’m drunk now. The room is starting to swim. This was a bad idea.

  His fingers curl around my bicep. “You’re welcome.”

  Sean is warm. Approachable and nice. I wonder what it would be like to kiss someone like him. To straddle his firm hips and ride him right into an orgasm. My panties dampen at the thought of getting laid. It’s been years.

  Would he kiss me in that soul-consuming way Vaughn used to?

  Vaughn was bad for me.

  Would he touch me in all the right places like Vaughn did?

  Vaughn ruined me.

  Would he fuck me like I belonged only to him until the end of time like Vaughn did?

  Vaughn was a psychopath.

  “Letty.” Sean’s hissed voice cuts through my confusing haze. I hate Vaughn, but imagining him while I touch myself is the only way I can get off. It’s humiliating. “You have to stop or I’ll come right here in my pants.”

  I jolt at his words and look down at my hand that’s rubbing his erection through his slacks. Horror threatens to suffocate me as I jerk my hand from him.

  “Oh my God,” I croak and start to pull from his grip. “I am so sorry.”

  “Hey,” he murmurs against my hair. “This is my fault. I should have fed you before I liquored you up. Please don’t think I’m some pervert.”

  Guilt infects me.

  He thinks he’s the pervert?

  I’m the one who was rubbing up on him like a dog in heat.

  “Do I still have the job?” I whisper.

  His chuckle once again warms me. “Of course.”

  My eyes close and I think of Vaughn. His blond hair that was long on top and shaved on the sides. The way it would flop into his eyes and stick to his temple when he’d fuck me. The man was terror and beauty molded into one perfectly horrifying package.

  “Letty…”

  The voice is all wrong.

  “I need to call you a cab. Right now. Or else…” A groan. “Or else
I think we’re both going to regret this in the morning.”

  When I drag my eyes open, I realize I’m practically in Sean’s lap. My lips are pressed against his throat with my fingers tangled in his hair. He has a death grip on my ass. The erection poking into my thigh tells me he really wants me and is barely holding back.

  “Shit!” I groan and scramble out of his lap. “I...this…”

  “Cab,” he says huskily and climbs out of the booth. “God…you have no idea how hard it will be to put you in that car and watch you drive away with this raging problem.” He gestures to his cock through his jeans, and a giggle escapes me. This causes him to chuckle too. “Laugh it up, angel. Let’s go before we get ourselves kicked out of here.”

  I vaguely remember him slapping down a wad of cash and ushering me into a cab. Just when he’s helping me inside, I hear heavy footsteps. Then, a pop followed by a groan. The car door on the opposite side opens up, but I’m already blacking out. My address is hissed from a familiar voice beside me the moment the car door slams shut. The cab begins to move, but all I can think about are the strong fingers stroking through my hair. The rugged, masculine scent filling my nostrils.

  “Shhh,” the voice whispers in a possessive way. “I have you now.”

  Who had me before?

  Better yet, who has me now?

  His gentle caresses send me right into a slumber without a care in the world.

  I have you now.

  SOMETIMES LOVE ISN’T black or white. Sometimes love isn’t even in color.

  For me, love is red.

  Bloody, dripping, bright, and crimson.

  Violent.

  Messy but brilliant against my otherwise dull world.

  “Tell me you love me,” Vaughn murmurs, the slight stubble on his chin dragging along my lower belly. “Tell me.”

  When our eyes meet, his are bloodshot but not angry. No, right now, he’s in a rare mood. Contemplative and borderline sweet. Just Vaughn. Not the unhinged man he’s slowly evolved into.

  “I love you.” Because right now, I do love him. In this exact moment, it’s true. My love for Vaughn changes. Rises and sets like the sun based on his moods. When he’s warm and shining his bright smile upon me, I bask in all that’s him. But when he clouds himself from me and his features darken, my love flickers and dims. Sometimes my love fades away completely.