Point of No Return

by Olivia Luck

  “Does Ben know about this?” Dominic interrupts.

  I freeze for a moment, shocked he asked such a jarring question in the middle of me speaking. “Er, um, no. We haven’t discussed it explicitly yet. But I know it won’t be a problem,” I say slowly. My gaze settles on Dom.

  Frown lines appear on his forehead, his eyes narrow. “Seems like a promise you can’t keep.”

  My back goes ramrod straight. It takes all the strength I have not to snap at him. What is his problem? “Let me worry about that, Dominic. I’ll see him on Sunday and take care of it. Any other questions?” I turn away from him, effectively addressing everyone else in the room.

  Silence.

  Holy goodness. This is awkward. Why is Dom airing his displeasure with me in front of everyone? I’m simmering with anger, but I continue, clicking ahead to a slide showing a picture of–

  “Wren Alexander. What’s he got to do with our event?” Tomas asks.

  Bill, the suit guy, stares at me with confusion.

  “Wren’s a local celebrity chef. He won a reality cooking show,” I explain. “And he’s the caterer. The menu’s not finalized yet, but since more than half the Scrapers are Canadian, I made sure he can do some local favorites. Poutine and jelly donuts are on the list. You can cheat on your diet for one night, right?” I grin cheekily then click to the next slide. I walk through the venue and the band and some of the auction prizes. Then I place the clicker on the conference table and take a few steps. “What do you think?”

  “Looks like I’ll be driving a Lambo,” Tomas says, jostling Rick’s shoulder who scoffs but doesn’t respond verbally. “Very good, Violet. This will be much better than last year’s Scrapers on Ice disaster.”

  “I believe so.” Even as I say it, I don’t miss Paige’s grimace. For a moment, I feel for her. She was the one who planned last year’s fundraiser. No one likes their mistakes aired publicly like this.

  “Having the Hope House residents at the event is a solid idea. This gala will set a new standard. If this event is one-tenth of what you presented, it will be better than any we’ve had in the past. I’m really impressed.” Cameron’s praise comes out eloquently and, most important, sincerely. Pride makes my cheeks heat and my eyes flicker to the table. Normally, I’m not shy to compliments, but my reaction differs when the words come from Cameron.

  It’s like the rest of the people in the room have left, and it’s just him and me, staring at each other. We’re sharing something here. The moment is pregnant with meaning, but I can’t figure out why.

  Just as quickly as it comes, the moment goes.

  “Right. We’ll see,” Paige snaps. Her cheeks are warm, too. They’re red with anger, and her eyes flash. There goes my sympathy.

  “Violet, when will you share the final menu with me?” Janet brings me back to the professional zone.

  “The first week of January. That’s when you’ll get the entire event rundown, timeline, and budget numbers. Until then, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern. My meeting with the team is scheduled for a week before the gala.”

  Janet assesses me carefully. “Remind me; is Wren Alexander’s fee within our budget?”

  “The contract is in your inbox to look over. Not to worry, he’s supplying food and beverage at cost.”

  “How did you manage that?” Dominic asks.

  My shoulders tense imperceptibly, but I keep my voice light. “Wren and I worked together before he won that show. Called him up, told him about the Hope House, and he was on board.”

  “Excellent,” Janet says, once again plowing through the tension in the room. “I think we’re all set here. Anyone have anything else to add?”

  There’s a shuffle of chairs and cordial farewells. I steadfastly ignore Dominic’s attempt to catch my attention. Will he ever let up on me? I know he’s never liked me, but to undermine me professionally is beneath anything he’s done before. I don’t understand him, but it hurts. And it reminds me of times before Max died when it was very clear his twin brother wanted nothing to do with me. Dominic’s forcing a relationship between us, and it leaves me bristling with anger, and other times, wallowing in despair. Max used to take the brunt of Dominic’s disdain for me.

  “Do you want me to talk to Ben with you?” he asks when the rest of the group has started to walk out the conference room.

  “Nope. I’m all set,” I say crisply.

  “Okay,” he drags out the word in elongated syllables. “Violet—”

  “I’m late.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily. I don’t want to deal with Dominic. When I walked into this building, I was in a great mood. That’s finished. I’m pissed. Truly angry with him and in no mood to talk it out.

  “Violet, got a sec?”

  Saved by the Scrapers.

  Cameron’s lounging casually outside the conference room, arms crossed over his chest, defining the sculpted muscles on his arms.

  “Sure. Talk to you later, Dom,” I say shortly.

  My former brother-in-law looks back and forth between us briefly. Then he frowns and, without saying good-bye, stalks away.

  “You okay?” Cameron asks.

  “I’m fine.” He cocks his head to the side in a disbelieving smirk. “No, I’m not. Clearly, Dominic and I don’t get along too well.” I sigh and my shoulders drop in resignation. I don’t realize I’m staring at the carpet until a crooked finger gently tilts my face up. As soon as I get used to the warmth of his skin, it’s gone.

  My pulse kicks up.

  “Chin up. Rocky’s been talking nonstop about spending the next few days with you. I can’t get him to shut up.”

  A smile plays on my lips. “I’m sure he has.”

  “I’ll bring him by tonight around six.”

  “See you then.”

  It’s not until I’m walking outside the building to the parking lot that I realize I’ve almost completely forgotten about Dominic because of the distraction Cameron provided.

  Cameron

  Violet is not yours to protect. I chant the ridiculous mantra over and over to keep myself from barreling into Dominic Baccino’s office and slamming his face into his desk. I don’t give a shit that he works on the Scrapers. That fucker embarrassed Violet. Therefore, I have to remind myself over and over that even though I caught her catching her breath when I touched my knuckle to the silky smooth skin underneath her chin, she’s not mine.

  Yet.

  “You bangin’ Red?”

  “Don’t think I won’t knock you on your ass. Teammate or not.” I don’t pause at Rick’s barb from behind me in the locker room. The guy’s lucky he’s such a talented left wing. His fucking brain lives in his dick when his focus is not on the sport.

  Obviously, he has a death wish because Rick clamps his hand on my shoulder to make me pause. Slowly, I turn to face him. “What?” I guess my voice is harsher than I intended it to be because Rick frowns.

  “Dude, I’m just asking if she’s off-limits,” he relents.

  I shrug off his grip then nod stiffly. “Completely off-limits. She’s best friends with Stella Baccino.”

  Displeasure twists Rick’s features. “Right,” he snaps. “You coming to the weight room?”

  “Let’s go.” With a two-day rest, I’m working out today before we hit the road tomorrow. Aggression builds within me. I want to be the one protecting Violet from Dominic acting like a little shit. Somehow, I know she wouldn’t have appreciated me interrupting her meeting to toss Dom on his ass. Violet led that meeting without a shade of uncertainty. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to stand behind her in support. My patience to make at least some subtle gesture to indicate that I’m interested wanes every day.

  A few hours later, the rigorous exercise has done little to calm me. Luckily, Rick kept his mouth shut while we worked out. If he had said something, I wouldn’t have minded an opportunity to spar with him. Coach probably wouldn’t see too kindly on that kind of animalistic behavior. So, I channel my energy into planning m
y next step to get Violet to realize I’m more than just a friend. And I’ve figured it out.

  Rocky’s paws are making a mess of the front passenger window while he peers outside. My boy’s smart and he knows exactly where we’re going. The dog practically pants with excitement, his tail brushing against the back of the car seat lazily.

  A familiar pulse of pleasure gathers in my chest when I park in front of Violet’s place. Knowing that I’m going to see her invigorates me. When I’m around Violet, I laugh more. I’m humbled. My goals sharpen. With only a few flights of stairs separating us, I’m nearly giddy. I’m wide-awake, all senses humming. She electrifies me, and it’s an addicting sensation.

  That’s why I’m not just dropping Rocky off and driving away. Tonight, I’m spending time with my sweet infatuation.

  I press my thumb into the buzzer next to Violet’s last name. Without bothering to ask who’s there, she unlocks the door. Rocky whines, yanking at his leash to try to make me move up the stairs faster. By the time we reach her front door, I’m frowning. She left it cracked open.

  “You know this is a city of six million people, right?” I ask over the din of Rocky yelping. I unleash him, and he sprints across the small space to where Violet’s pouring herself a glass of water.

  “Yes . . .” Violet arches a brow at me. God, she’s adorable. In a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved white t-shirt, she’s not trying to impress anyone with her fashion. And yet, I have to remind myself to breathe.

  “Not all of those people are well meaning.” Violet looks at me in confusion. “Promise me that you won’t buzz anyone up without asking who it is first,” I demand. “There are all sorts of assholes who would love to get their hands on someone like you.”

  Violet stoops to acknowledge my dog then slowly rises to her full height. She crosses her slim arms across her chest and I have to fight not to look at the way she presses her breasts higher. “Someone like me?”

  “Yeah. A gorgeous woman is a prime target for creeps.” I don’t realize what I’ve said until Violet’s pink lips part in surprise then tilt upward. Authentic smiles from Violet are hard earned but so damned worth the effort.

  “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can promise that,” she says.

  “How’s your list coming?” I ask, tilting my head to where the leather journal lies open on the dining table.

  “Not bad,” she hedges. Something’s up with her. She looks nervous.

  I place Rocky’s bag of stuff on one of the dining chairs. Then I grab the notebook and begin reading what’s listed.

  “Milwaukee. New Point. Los Angeles.” I pause, glancing up to where Violet looks away from me. “What’s this?”

  “Places I want to go,” she mumbles.

  “Violet . . .” My chest seizes. Is this for real?

  “It’s ridiculous. I’m twenty-seven and I have a car. It wouldn’t be that hard to drive over the state line. But I haven’t done it yet,” she admits softly. Then she scoops Rocky into her arms, not seeming bothered by him bathing her face in kisses. Finally, she giggles and shifts her face away. “Silly boy. You love kissing, don’t you?”

  For another beat, I’m speechless. This woman who plans sophisticated, world-class events has never left Illinois. “That’s not right. We’re going to have to remedy this.”

  Violet’s eyes flash. “We won’t do anything. I’m going to take care of this. I haven’t gotten there yet. There’s a lot more on my list. I’ll get there.”

  Yes, you will. And I’ll take you there.

  “Watching a movie tonight?” I ask.

  Rocky goes back to the ground when she walks over to me and tugs the journal from my hands. Her sugar sweet scent makes my nostrils flare. What I would give to bury my face in her hair and inhale. She’s the most decadent dessert.

  Violet thumbs through the pages and then pauses. “Ah, yes. Tonight is Old School.”

  “Oh, good. I love that movie. Will Ferrell in his prime.”

  Violet’s not fazed by my assumption that I’m invited to watch it with her. She turns back to the kitchen. On her tiptoes, she reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a bag of natural popcorn. “Water? Pop? Beer?”

  “Water’s good.”

  “Ice?”

  “No, thanks.”

  At that moment, I have a vision. Violet and I having this same exchange at my house. And instead of us being friends, we’re together. When she turns back to hand me the glass, she has tenderness in her eyes and I’m allowed to pull her against my chest and press my lips to hers.

  Instead, it’s all friendliness when she faces me. I’ll take it for now.

  She hands me my glass and I place it on the table next to the sofa. I bend down to unlace my tennis shoes. Perfectly at ease, I stretch my leg along the coffee table. Violet sits down next to me with enough room to place the popcorn bowl between us. She smiles. A real, honest, uninhibited Violet smile. I hold my breath.

  “We’re going healthier this time. I don’t want to be responsible for messing up your nutrition,” she says in reference to the bowl between us. I like that we have a shared memory from the night we saw The Godfather. The reminder puts me in an even better mood.

  Grinning, I take a handful. “Thanks, I’ll let Coach know.”

  “How many times have you seen this movie?” she asks, breaking the spell.

  “A few,” I murmur.

  Violet fiddles with the remote, staring at it. Then looking at me. Then staring at the remote again.

  “Everything okay?”

  She hesitates. Bites her lip, but not coyly, more out of indecision. “I have another client. A woman I used to work with branched off and started her own PR firm. She needs event help occasionally and I’m working with her on a spa opening in February. It’s—I’m still in shock. This is really happening. I’m starting my own business,” she says in wonder.

  “Violet, I had no idea your plans were to start your own business . . .” I shake my head slowly.

  “Oh. Yeah. It probably seems silly.”

  “No, your plans to start your own business absolutely do not sound silly. What happened to the confident woman who nailed the presentation today?”

  Violet shrugs, glancing away.

  I clasp her hand in mine and ignore the electricity coursing between us. She doesn’t show any obvious signs of acknowledging the heat other than looking down at where I trace my thumb across the ridges of her knuckles. Man, her hand is soft. Delicate.

  “What I meant was that you amaze me, Violet.” That grabs her attention. Her stormy navy eyes shoot up to mine.

  “That’s a big word,” she observes drily.

  “Yeah, and I mean it. The drive in you . . . This Scrapers gala is not some little blip. It could put you on the map for your career and you don’t have an ounce of fear. What amazes me, Violet, is that you have a bunch of professional athletes and high rollers to impress, but you haven’t forgotten who we’re serving with this fundraiser. I don’t have to go to one of your events to know how good you are at your job. It’s obvious at every meeting that you give all your heart to your work. If that’s not amazing, I don’t know what is.”

  “Thanks, Cameron.” Her voice drifts to a whisper.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat and drop her hand, despite every nerve in my body screaming at me to do otherwise. “Ready for that movie?”

  I don’t touch her for the remainder of the evening, but it’s there. The connection. I don’t have to ask Violet out loud to know that she feels it, too. Because when I leave after the movie’s finished, she looks disappointed. She opens her mouth to say something but thinks better of it.

  “See you in a few days?” I murmur, propping my shoulder on the doorframe.

  Violet stands a few feet away looking relaxed and soft and sweet.

  “Yeah. This is was fun, Cameron.” She doesn’t meet my eyes when she says it, as if she’s shy. Fighting a grin, I say good-bye and she wishes me a good trip.

  When I walk dow
n the stairs, I whistle a tune to myself.

  Violet

  The car beeps when I press the lock button. It’s Sunday and I’m visiting Ben to talk Scrapers. The director of the Hope House already told the residents able to attend the gala that they were invited. Every time I visit, someone wants to talk to me about what to wear or expect.

  I can’t help but hear Dominic’s critical perspective in the back of my mind when I push through the door and head inside the residential hall. Asking Ben to speak in front of all of his heroes could scare the living daylights out of him. The last thing I want to do is put my friend under pressure or make him uncomfortable in any way. When I needed someone to cry with, his cheeks were wet. When I needed someone to share memories with, he remembered the good times we had with Max. At the same time, I wonder why I let Dominic’s negativity get to me this way. I’m offering Ben not only the chance to hang out with all of his heroes, but also to get their undivided attention.

  “Come in!” Ben calls when I knock against his door.

  “Hey boo,” I say, using my shoulder to push through the door. Then I freeze. Dominic’s sitting on the couch in the small living room, leveling me with an even stare. In a heartbeat, I’m defensive. What does he think; I’m going to make Ben do something he doesn’t want? Never.

  “Dom.”

  I know why you’re here, I tell him silently. Dominic lifts his left shoulder a centimeter in a silent so, what gesture.

  “What’s up, V?” Ben stands and engulfs me in a warm hug. I squeeze him back. I don’t care what Dominic thinks. Ben’s friendship is a treasure, and I don’t take it for granted.

  “Busy week,” I tell him. “Rocky’s at my place right now while the team is on the road. I’m surprised you’re not traveling with them,” I inquire of Dominic pointedly.