I pause, meeting her gaze.
“On the list of attendees for this morning’s meeting, there is a Violet Harper. Is that the...” she takes a breath as if searching for the right words.
“It is.” I don’t hesitate. There’s no point denying it. Bethany is clever enough to know it’s no coincidence.
“If I could offer some advice,” she begins, an anxious crease in her brow.
“Something tells me you’re going to anyway,” I offer a half-smile to put her at ease.
“Be gentle with her. It will be hard for her coming back after what happened.” She wrings her hands together.
“Don’t worry, Bethany. I’m aware I’ve got a mountain to climb. Anyone would think I’m a complete monster.”
“Only on Mondays,” she adds with a wry smile as I head to the elevator.
I feel every beat of my heart, every inhale of breath as the elevator descends, adrenaline pulsing through me, growing every step closer to the meeting room. The door is open as I approach. The low buzz of chatter reverberates out into the hallway. British accents, polite laughter, Austen making small talk. I stride through the door, my mask in place. On the surface,calm and collected. On the inside, one second away from losing my goddamn mind. My eyes move on instinct, seeking her out. When they land on her, I swear I stop breathing. A moment I know will stay with me forever.
She doesn’t see me at first. Of course, she’s smiling, her dimples on full display. A smile both punishing and utterly breathtaking. Punishing because it’s not for me. It’s for someone else. She looks radiant. Happy. Thriving in a world without me. People say the best form of revenge is success. If revenge is what she’s after, she’s achieved it with a single smile.
And, yes, I still love her — fiercely, fully, in a way that guts me.
Not the soft kind.
But the kind that owns you completely.
A few heads turn my way as the chatter dies down. The smile is still on her face as her head turns. It disappears the second she sees me. I don’t think anything has ever cut as deep. I stare. Can’t help it. I’ve waited so long to see her. Immediately, her eyes dip to her laptop screen, but almost like an instinct she can’t control, they lift back up and lock on mine. And I see it. The sharp inhale. The flicker in her eyes. She still feels it. She doesn’t want to, but it’s there. The caveman in me wants to order everyone but her out of the room. Wants to reclaim that smile. Remind her who she belongs to. But that would be a monumental act of self-sabotage. So, I do what I always do. Turn on the charm. Work the room. Make sure everyone knows who’s in control.
My feet carry me forward like I’m on autopilot, shaking hands, exchanging names. Austen introduces the leads from Nexora, and I respond in kind, smooth, polite, every inch the investor they expect me to be.
Then I get to her.
“Violet,” I say, so much emotion loaded beneath the surface just by uttering her name.
My arm stretches out, my blood roaring just at the thought of touching her.
“Mr. Knight,” she says, like we’re strangers, like my tongue hasn’t run over every inch of her skin.
But when her hand slides into mine, her cool facade splinters for a second. I let my thumb drag across her palm. The shiver she tries to hide is immediate. She’s still as affected by me, perhaps more so, and for the first time today, I can breathe again. I can tell shehatesthe fact as much as I love it. The way she snatches her hand away as if my touch burns.
Before the tension breaks us completely, Martin, Nexora’s lead, speaks up, “Violet told me you worked together before. She’s been a real asset to the project. We’re lucky to have her.”
I don’t look away from her. I can’t. “Our loss is your gain.” And boy, does the truth hurt.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, her attention shifting to Martin likehe’sher safety net, her body inching closer to him. I don’t like that. I don’t like it one fucking bit. But then I’m hit with the bitter truth. He’s the one who rescued her when we tossed her out in the cold. My fingers curl in on themselves, the harsh reality almost enough to floor me. But I suck it up and press on.
I bury the chaos and force my focus back to the room.
This is the first time in my life that business has come second to something else.
I don’t need this deal. The fact it has Violet’s brilliance stitched into its very foundation is a bonus. But I’m in no doubt that all this—this whole charade—is for her. My one last shot at fixing my epic mess.
Martin launches into the last part of the presentation, walking us through Nexora’s predictive analytics software—their crown jewel. It’s clever. It doesn’t just forecast market trends; it adapts, learns, and sharpens with every data point. I should be thinkingabout its potential, the obscene profits it’ll generate when Knightwell takes it global.
But I’m not; I’m watching her.
Violet sits there, spine stiff, hands folded too tightly on the table. She doesn’t look at me, not once. As if ignoring me could protect her.
“Well,” I say when Martin finishes, dragging myself back into the room, “we’re looking forward to seeing what you deliver.”
