I glance at my watch, knowing that as much as I would like to figure out if Violet is wearing black lingerie underneath her pink dress, I have things to do and places to be.
“I guess Ford is aiming for the big-brother-of-the-year award. Anyhow, I need to run, but we’ll catch up soon.” I offer my hand to Ford for one of our team shakes.
“For sure,” he promises.
My eyes land on Violet again, whose lashes flutter as she offers me a half-smile, and I still can’t pinpoint why her eyes on me feel heavy, yet playful. It’s a thought I should probably ignore.
Even when I walk away and notice that she’s watching me leave.
* * *
Finally,this damn tie can go. The rest of my suit stays.
“Are you ready for tonight?” My childhood friend Brent gives me a devilish grin as he greets me in his front hall, mirroring my dress code, with his hair slicked back. A subtle sound of electric house music plays in the background.
This is one ofthoseparties that involve a bowl with names to pick.
The invite list is carefully vetted, and everyone here knows they will be leaving with someone.
It’s not that I do this on a weekly or even monthly basis, but this isn’t my first.
Sometimes, you just need to indulge in a wild night.
“This is exactly what I need today,” I admit.
I undo the top button of my shirt, relieved I ditched the tie during the elevator ride.
Brent pats my shoulder, indicating to follow. “Come on, we need to get you something strong to drink before a night of debauchery.”
I walk through the penthouse, taking in the familiar surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer exquisite views of Chicago at night, with little specks of light scattered in the foggy night air outside, as we are so high up in the building.
Making our way down the hall into the kitchen, I trail behind Brent to the island counter where he instantly begins to pour a fresh glass of Scotch, while my eyes scan the room. Everyone is dressed to affect, because impressions count.
Brent has a strict protocol for choosing guests, and he can be brutal with his criticism too. Nobody here would call themselves committed in a relationship with someone, and they purely enjoy the thrill of this setup.
He hands me my drink with a smirk, and his eyes narrow in on me.
“Thanks,” I say. Taking a sip, the burn hits my tongue just right, but my eyes do a double take back to Brent who seems to have intel he’s holding onto. “Something you want to share?”
“In a few minutes we will get this show going.” Brent gives me an assuring nod, but his look is indescribable. “Did you see who just walked into the kitchen?”
I didn’t take much notice of faces when I came in, since a drink felt like the priority.
I turn around and notice a pair of legs that I missed in my assessment of the scene. A pair of legs that has me invested to explore further, which is why my sight draws a line up from her black stiletto heels, along her defined smooth legs, to her pink dress. It’s different than before, better. This magnificent journey of exploration ends when my eyes land on her lush lips stained with dark pink lipstick.
But her cute mouth isn’t the only thing familiar. It’s her blue eyes that hit a button somewhere inside of me, just as they did earlier today. Those curious eyes that wander the room, taking in her surroundings.
She’s standing there, patiently waiting, like a doe lost in the forest.
And I’m the big bad wolf.
She is the last person I would ever expect to see here.
Violet Spears.
2
DECLAN
