Holding the rose like a timeless treasure, she grinned back at him. “Thank you. I know just the place.”
The sound of Roman’s footsteps followed her through their home until they wandered through the door to her sewing room. She proudly set the rose puzzle on her sketching desk and stepped back to admire it. “I love it.”
“I love you, Violet.”
She encircled him with her arms and rested her chin on his chest. “I love you, too, Roman Covington. Take me to bed?”
His soft smile turned wolfish. “Yes, Your Grace.”
34
The next morning, Violet strolled into Roman’s favorite candy shop to buy a box of his favorite chocolate bars. He’d written her a letter while she was away about a new bar at the shop he couldn’t stop eating. It sounded delicious, and she couldn’t wait to try one and see the look on his face when she presented him with more chocolate bars than he could eat in a week for his birthday tomorrow.
Much to Violet’s dismay, Marissa sat in the corner of the shop, shoveling tiny chocolates into her mouth as she cried. She held a letter in her hand, staring at its contents with despair.
The paper, Violet noted, looked well-worn. The sight made her heart pinch. She knew the look of heartbreak when she saw it.
Guilt followed the sympathy. Had Violet misjudged Marissa? Clearly the woman loved someone else, and Violet had accused her of trying to steal Roman.
Sighing, she wove her way through the tables and sat across from Marissa. “Hey, are you okay?”
Marissa jumped and hid the paper in her lap, but when her watery eyes landed on Violet, they filled with resentment. “No thanks to you,” she spat in an almost whisper. “You ruined everything.” Stunned, Violet stared at Marissa, unable to form a reply. Marissa revealed the paper again and shook it. “He lovedmeuntil you came back.” Her shoulders slumped and she looked miserably at the letter again. “Or maybe he used me to pass the time until you returned.”
Dropping her shoulders pitifully, she dissolved into another fit of sobs.What in the fuck is she talking about?Violet plucked the letter from Marissa’s hands with no resistance from the mess of a woman across from her.
She instantly regretted it, for on the paper Marissa had so lovingly read repeatedly, was an all too familiar penmanship and signature. With each word, Violet felt to the urge to empty the contents of her stomach, or cry, or burn Roman’s favorite bakery to the godsdamn ground with Marissa inside.
Marissa,
Today I passed the pleasure house and thought of you. Specifically, of pushing you against the glass of my privacy box and winding your red hair around my fist while I fed you my cock from behind. Gods, it will look beautiful wrapped around my hand. And with my name on your lips? Fuck, I can’t wait. I’m counting down the hours until then.
The first time we sat together at the pleasure house was the night I purchased a privacy box of my own. I knew I’d have you in it one day. Thank fuck that day is soon and thank you for agreeing to it. It’s all I’ve thought about.
My cock could cut glass at the thought.
Soon.
Yours,
Roman
Marissa’s face twisted into a cruel smile. “He wanted me.” Her smile morphed into a sneer. “And now he barely speaks to me.”
It couldn’t be true. Violet knew Roman, and he wouldn’t lie to her. “This letter is forged,” Violet said matter-of-factly, “because Roman would never betray me like this.”
Marissa threw her head back with humorless laughter. “You really believe that?” She leaned forward and lowered voice. “No matter how many tattoos he has, your name isn’t on him, Violet. Youlefthim, while I was here at his side. He wanted me.” The sound of her love-sick sniffle made Violet want to commit a crime. “The talks we had… he loved me.”
Violet snorted. “Roman spoke to you as a friend. Men are daft. He had no idea his friendship gave you misguided notions of romance.”
Marissa’s smug smile made her pretty face ugly. “Has Roman told you anything about me? Because I know all about you.”Bitch. “I know no one wanted you in school. I know that even your boyfriend who took your virginity wished he’d had Vivian instead.”
Violet fought to keep her expression impassive and scoffed. “Everyone knows those things, but nice try.”
Marissa tsked, the condescending sound grating on Violet’s last nerve. “I know Titus wouldn’t fuck you either, but he had no problem fucking Vivian. It seems you’re always second best. Isn’t it weird that Roman speaks to me about your intimate personal life, but doesn’t trust you enough to tell you anything about anyone else?”
She had Violet there, but that still didn’t mean the letter was real. Even if it looked real.Extremelyreal.
Looking back at the letter, she pulled the paper close and squinted. It was Roman’s handwriting. His signature. His vernacular. One would be hard pressed to deny he’d written it, but Violet sensed otherwise. She knew Roman would never write the letter to Marissa, but she also didn’t know how the woman knew about Titus.
