“Told you,” Violet said in her sing-song voice. “Now, can we go out? I’m starving, Alexei.” Sauntering, her hips moving under the satin, she moved towards me, placing her hand on my arm. “I want to tell the world that we are finally getting married. I want to show the world that I am finally wearing this beautiful Petrovov ring.”
I glanced down at the hand on my arm and the sparkling diamond and sapphire ring she had wedged on her finger. It was so tight that it looked like it was cutting off her circulation. Why didn’t it look like it belonged on her finger? What was up with me? Violet had always been what I had wanted. Yet now?
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
I dropped my arm, and her hand slid free. “Not tonight, Violet,” I said firmly and turned to the cabinets. “I will make you a sandwich if you are incapable of making yourself something, but I have too much to do this evening. I can’t take you out.”
I didn’t want to take her out.
“A sandwich?” She screeched like I had just offered her poison. I threw her a look, and she quickly schooled her face into a soft smile.
“Maybe we could order takeout and—” This time when she reached for me, her hand landed on my chest. Her red-tipped nails slid downwards towards my belt. “Eat it in bed.”
The suggestion in her voice was clear.
“It’s too soon, Violet.” Again, I stepped away. It didn’t even make sense to me that she would be offering herself up to me on a platter so soon after her unimaginable loss.
“But I can order you whatever you want.”
Her hands dropped to her sides, and I watched as she clenched her fists. “OK, well,” her overly full lips thinned. “I thought you might want to spend time with me, your fiancée, but I can see that’s not the case.”
My fiancée? My eyebrows slammed down. It was so weird her saying that out loud. I had a fiancée.
Shit, I went perfectly still. I also had a wife.
Where the hell was Amy?
“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, Violet, but I do have things to sort out. My phone needs to be replaced, and I have to check up on a few people.” A look of pure unadulterated rage swept over her face. “Is the person you need to check up on Amy?”
“One of them, yes,” I said smoothly. “But not the only one. This house can’t run itself and—”
She stepped up to me, her small hands balled into fists. “I knew you still had a thing for her. She’s got some kind of hold on you.”
Easily, I caught her by the shoulders. “She is my wife. Well soon-to-be ex-wife. It’s my job to make sure she is alright. It doesn’t mean I care for her at all,” I snapped. “Pull yourself together.”
Violet stared at me for a few seconds, a cold, unreadable look in her eyes. “Fine. I will go to my room and get out of your hair. I’ll let you deal with your perfect wife.”
Angrily, she jerked out of my grip and walked away. Throwing open the kitchen door, she paused.
“Oh, it looks like you are in luck.” She threw a glare over her shoulder. “Her lapdog, I mean driver and security, is here.”
“Micah?” I was at the door before it could slam shut behind her.
Sure enough, there he was. Dressed in a thick black overcoat over his suit. He nodded his head respectfully.
“Where is—”
“I need to talk to you, sir,” he said politely. His eyes darted towards the stairs and Violet’s retreating back. The look he threw her wasn’t nice. “In private.”
“In private?” I parroted back. “Sure, let’s go to my office. Is everything alright?”
He didn’t answer me as we moved back through the eerily quiet house. It was so strange. I hadn’t noticed until now how much life Amy and the staff brought to the place. Without them, it felt more like a mausoleum.
Wearily, I sank back down into my chair. “Drink?” I asked, motioning to the crystal decanter. He shook his head silently.
“Mind if I do?”
“Of course, not, Mr. Petrovov. You might need it.”
