Violet
Dad used to say,whenever you let your guard down, Violet, people never fail to stab you in the back.Since I didn’t want to live life with his warped cynicism—and he left Mom in such a cruel way—I’ve pretty much disregarded everything he said. What would he know about navigating life’s trials and tribulations? All he did was run at the first sign of danger. Jumped off a sinking ship, leaving his wife and young daughters to drown.
But as I steamroll through the chrome-and-glass entrance,Knightwell Technologybrandished above the doors like the seal of a dynasty; I have to admit—on this occasion—Dad was right.
I march through reception, the snap of my platform heels against the polished marble floors like the drumbeat of an advancing army—fitting, really, since I’m on the warpath.
I have been since Saturday morning at eleven a.m., when my boss, Sonny, from Velvet Longue, called to inform me that my services were no longer required. Despite my repeated protests—and some good old-fashioned begging—I knew it was a lost cause. He did, however, let slip that anextremely high-profile clienthad requested my removal.
No prizes for guessing who.
What the hell is wrong with this guy? He insists on driving me home, pretending he cares about my welfare. Chivalrously walking me to the door. Yet not forty minutes earlier, he was making damn sure I got the boot.
Why?
It’s the million-dollar question I’m about to get answered.
I thought that by Monday, my anger might have subsided. Instead, it’s ballooned to the point where I’m ready to pop.
I squeeze into the packed elevator, trying to regulate my erratic breathing as I select the option for the executive floor. By the time I reach the top level, I’m the only one left—no surprise there. Only a select few are allowed up here, and the rest? They come by summons, not by choice. Catching my reflection in the mirrored wall, I smooth my hair down and brush an errant eyelash from my cheekbone. Apart from looking mad as hell, everything else is in order. I even dressed in black for the occasion. I’m not sure if this will end up beinghisfuneral or mine, but either way, there are things I need to get off my chest before I damn well explode.
Theonlyupside to this mess? For once, I actually got to enjoy my weekend. I made it to one of Gracie’s games with my favorite cheerleader, Seb, in tow. But the problem is, I can’taffordto enjoy myself. And thinking about the sheer amount of tips I lost this weekend? It’s almost enough to bring me to tears.
Bethany is in her usual spot when I approach her desk.
“Good morning, Bethany,” I say, breezing past, striding straight for Chase’s door.
“Do you have an appointment, Violet?” She jumps to her feet, her eyes wide.
“Nope. Mr. Knight won’t mind,” I say, smiling sweetly as I fling open his door. She trots behind me, eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind. Chase stands by the window with his back to us, phone in hand, surveying New York City like a king, positioning his pawns.
He spins around, mid-call, one eyebrow lifted, smirking when he takes in my murderous expression. Bethany mouths a silent sorry behind me, but he waves her away, putting up his thumb to show it’s okay. I didn’t think it was possible to be any madder, but I forgot who I was dealing with. He just cost me the job I was counting on to save for my sister’s college—and he finds itamusing.
Chase’s voice softens, smooth and confident, as he continues his call, one hand casually running through his hair. “I see where you’re coming from. But trust me, this is a strategic play. We’re not just going to keep up with the competition; we’re going to outpace them.” He pauses, chuckling as if the thought amuses him. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders; I’ll give you that. But let’s take it to the next level, yeah?”
Why do I have to notice the way his shirt stretches across his broad back when he shifts, the muscles in his shoulders tensing under the fabric, and how his dark hair falls just slightly over his forehead? The undeniable power in the way he carries himself. His jawline sharpens as he speaks, the effortless confidence in his voice only adding to the appeal.
I curl my fingernails into my palms, fighting the irritating pull of attraction. He’s not even trying, but damn if he doesn’t make it hard not to notice everything about him—the way his eyes narrow when he focuses, the defined lines of his face, and the unwavering belief in his every move.
He finally exhales, turning to face me, those deep chocolate eyes pinning me to the spot. “I’ve got to go now,” he says, voice velvety, dismissing them with ease. “Something I’ve beenmeaning to deal with has just arrived on my desk.” He flashes me a quick, almost teasing smile. “No, nothing I can’t handle. In fact, it’s something I quite enjoy.”
He ends the call, his mouth twitching with a smile like he knows I’m one breath away from bursting wide open.
“So help me, God,” I rant. “I’m about five seconds away from shoving that crystal paperweight up your ass...who even has such a pretentious paperweight on their desk?”
He points at the chair opposite his desk, his infuriatingly sexy lips suppressing a smirk, his tone firm. “Sit, Violet.”
“I’m not a dog.” I fold my arms, crossing my legs as I sit.
“Well, stop yapping like one, then.”
“I’ve hardly said a word.”
“You don’t need to. The way you bound in here uninvited.”
“How about the way you interfere in my life uninvited? Why would you get me fired from Velvet Lounge? Is it your new mission in life to fire me from as many positions as possible? Or were you mad you weren’t in my little notebook?”
He sits behind his desk, exhaling with frustration, silencing his phone as it rings out non-stop.
