Owning Violet
Page 23

“A man like me,” I say, my voice flat.
“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.” She drops her hand and stares at me as that familiar lusty hunger fills her golden eyes. “You like it hard. And dirty, and sometimes a little mean, and even a little … painful. Can you imagine Violet splayed out on your bed begging you to fuck her?”
Fuck yes, I could. “You gave me a challenge. I’m going to meet it.”
“So you’re only doing this to please me?” Pilar asks hopefully.
“This isn’t about you.” I pause. It’s about me wanting Violet. Wanting what Zachary Lawrence just lost. “You go do what you need to do and I’ll do the same,” I tell her.
The crestfallen expression on Pilar’s face says it all. I completely disappointed her. “So you’re shutting me out.”
“I have to,” I stress. No way do I want her involved in my pursuit of Violet. I never did. “We get sloppy, she catches on. We keep our distance from each other; you keep up your game with Lawrence and I’ll take care of Violet.” I’ll wear her down eventually. I know I can.
“Meaning you’ll eventually destroy her?” Pilar asks.
Sighing, I scrub a hand across my face. “Why are you so hell-bent on destroying her? What did she ever do to you?”
“She was born a Fowler. Just because she’s blood doesn’t mean she deserves the position and authority that she has at Fleur. It’s infuriating.” Pilar scowls. “She’s teetering on the edge, though. I can sense it. Ending it with Zachary will push her harder. If you’re determined to do this, then fine. You toying with her will send her straight over. She’ll spiral out of control and someone will need to replace her. That will be me.”
“Rather certain in your abilities, aren’t you?”
“Oh darling.” The smile she flashes at me is fucking scary in its intensity. “You have no idea.”
Chapter Seven
Violet
As I exit the elevator I notice the strange looks, the curious murmurings, though they’re trying their best to be discreet. I nod and smile hello at those brave enough to face me head on, hoping that the Fleur employees I encounter are talking about me because I rarely make an appearance on this floor. Not because they’ve all somehow found out that my now ex-boyfriend let the barracuda of Fleur suck his dick last night while at a cocktail party. In a hallway. By the bathrooms.
God, it sounds so vile, so tawdry. My skin crawls just thinking about it.
Oh, and yes. Suck his dick. I’m not the type to say such … vulgar things, but I’m calling a spade a spade. I’m owning what happened last night because I’m not at fault. I’m not the one who pushed him into the arms of another woman. He’s actually used that excuse before and I’ve fallen for it.
Who’s the real fool in this situation? Me. And I’m sick of it. Zachary is a despicable human being who’s cheated on me for the very last time.
I smile politely at the receptionist as she greets me with a cheerful good morning, then turn right and start heading down the hall. I lift my chin with feigned determination while deep within, nerves dance inside my stomach. This needs to be done and it’s best if I get it over with first thing. Rose told me I should just do it via email, but I insisted that telling him in person would have more impact.
I’m starting to think I should have listened to Rose after all.
Smoothing my hands down the front of my vivid red dress—purposely chosen because I feel so bold wearing it—I straighten my shoulders and pause at the slightly closed door, knocking twice before I peek my head inside. “May I come in?”
Ryder McKay stands behind his desk looking like a ruthless, commanding king, his hands propped against the edge as he surveys the various photos and paperwork spread all over the top. He lifts his head, his stark blue gaze meeting mine, and for a moment all I see is ice. His gaze is impenetrable. A little bit mean.
But then the ice melts and he smiles slowly, the crinkles that form around his eyes charming and telling me that he does smile more often than it might seem, which somehow reassures me.
“Violet. What a pleasant surprise.” He stretches to his full height and waves a hand at me. “Close the door.”
“Oh.” I jump a little, running my fingertips over my hair, which I pulled into a no-nonsense, sleek ponytail, as I turn to look at the door. “Um, what I want to talk about won’t take long, I promise.”
“But you want privacy, I assume?” His delectably deep voice washes over me and I repress the shiver that wants to overtake me at his words. He can make “privacy” sound like a dirty sexual act he wants to perform on me and me alone. I glance over my shoulder to find his head tilted, his gaze seemingly locked on my backside. “Shut the door, Violet.”
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.