I’m one second away from punching this cretin in the face. I hate to admit it, but Violet just made me drop the ball so hard you could hear the echo in China. In any other circumstance, I would have used the opportunity to approach Monarch while he was busy with Violet, but the second I saw him lay a finger on her, I acted on an impulse I couldn’t control. Something I never do.
“Your whiskey,” Violet says, sliding it toward me, her tone clipped.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I growl, taking a large slug to steady my racing heart.
“I’m working. What does it look like?” She wipes down the counter, a frown creasing her brow. “Why did you have to scare Elliot away? He always pays very generous tips.”
I swallow back the bile at the thought of her having any kind of relationship with him.
“So you’re happy to let him touch you?”
“Why do you care what I do?” She exhales with frustration. “I can look after myself, and if there’s a problem, I’ll speak to my supervisor.” She raises her chin, her green eyes shining with a mixture of confusion and defiance.
Why do I care? It’s a good question I can’t answer. And now the sharp pain in my gut, knowing I have no control over this woman. Because you want to control her, a dark, twisted voice rings in my head. I want her complete submission. In my bed. Naked. Under me. Her mouth begging for every part of me.
“How do you know him?” I ask, sidestepping her question.
She rolls her eyes with impatience, sarcasm laced in her words. “We go yachting on the weekends. How do you think? From working here.” She reaches down under the bar, retrieving a notebook. “If you must know. I keep notes on all my regulars. I’ve got to earn my tips somehow.”
She flicks through the pages before stopping, tapping her finger against it. “Here we are, Elliot Hargreaves. Likes football, supports the Jets. Avid horse rider. Drinks Cognac. Enjoys fishing...”
“He enjoys fishing?” I snort. “Are you sure?”
“Yep, my notebook never lies.”
“What else does it say about him?”
“Erm...let me see.” Her mouth twitches with a half-smile, her finger sliding down the list until she pauses. “Oh yes, here we are...lovesto be spanked hard with a big paddle.”
I almost choke on my whiskey as she collapses into laughter, quickly grabbing me a glass of water as I cough. “Jeez, sorry itwasn’t in my plans to kill you this evening,” she says, handing me a napkin.
“Violet, you better be joking,” I croak.
“Yeah, sorry to disappoint.” She winks. “Just PG stuff only in here.” She pops the notebook back and wanders off to serve another customer. I glance over to where Monarch’s execs are seated, Elliot gesticulating with that smug grin of his, probably spinning his usual brand of smarm. I know I should go over and start laying the groundwork, but my eyes keep straying back to Violet. She moves behind the bar with an effortless rhythm, weaving between stations like she was born to do this, the hem of her skirt swishing against her thighs in a way that has me gripping my glass a little tighter. She smiles at a customer, and I catch the flicker of dimples that—God help me—make it impossible to look away. I tell myself I’m only observing, assessing, like I do with everything else, but the truth gnaws at the edges of my mind. I’m watching her too much. And I don’t want to stop.
I barely register the approaching footsteps until a voice cuts through my thoughts. “Chase,” says Richard Morgan, one of Monarch’s senior execs, clapping a hand on my shoulder like we’re old friends. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” His eyes flick toward Elliot, still holding court across the room. “Hargreaves never takes a damn day off, does he?”
I offer a dry smile, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “The devil works hard, but Elliot Hargreaves works harder.”
Richard chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Listen, we’ve got an executive retreat next month—Monarch’s hosting it at a private estate upstate. A mix of strategy sessions and some outdoor activities. We’d love to have you there. Bring a few of your team along. I hear your software folks are doing some interesting things with fraud detection.”
I give a slow nod, weighing the opportunity. “Yes, they are.”
Richard grins. “Good. I’ll have my assistant send over the details. It’s a full weekend—networking, team challenges, the whole song and dance.”
I nod again, keeping my expression neutral. “Sounds like a plan.”
As Richard walks away, I take a slow sip of whiskey, a flicker of satisfaction settling in. I might have messed up hanging back here instead of making my way over to Monarch earlier, too caught up in Violet’s orbit—but in the end, I still got what I wanted. And that’s going to piss Elliot off.
I hang at the bar for a while, scowling at any man who tries to engage Violet. I can tell it’s driving her crazy, but I’m past caring. She zips from customer to customer, serving them with an infuriating smile. I have to physically drag my gaze away as she moves around the bar, the micro mini accentuating her perfect round ass.
As it quietens down, I wave my empty glass at her, and she sashays over with a forced smile. I’m quite enjoying this little game of Violet having to do what she’s told.
“I’ll have the same again, Violet and let me buy you a drink.”
She seems momentarily taken aback, but she recovers quickly. “We can’t accept drinks from clients. It’s company policy.”
“Why the hell not? I pay an exorbitant membership fee. If I want to buy you a drink, I will.”
