The cook’s wrist trembles in my grip. “Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You meant every word.” I move so I can look at her directly, letting her see the steel in my eyes. “Own it.”
“Please don’t do this,” she pleads. “I need this job. I have grandchildren…”
Disgust curls through me. I release her wrist, and she immediately cradles her arm to her chest, her face blotchy with tears.
“I may be weak,” I say quietly, stepping back, “but I’m not going to let anyone walk all over me. I don’t mind keeping to myself. I don’t mind staying out of everyone’s way. But if someone tries to disrespect me?” My voice drops lower. “I won’t take it lying down.”
I turn to James. “Could I get some fruit? Or a sandwich?”
He stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Of course, Miss Violet.”
“I’ll prepare it.” The cook’s voice is small now, subdued. She hurries back to the counter, her movements jerky and rushed, still favoring her arm.
James continues to watch me, what looks like respect dawning in his expression.
The cook returns with a neatly packed breakfast: a sandwich, an apple, a bottle of water. “Here you are, miss.”
“Thank you.” I take the bag, my voice neutral. Not warm, but not cruel, either.
She nods quickly and retreats to the far side of the kitchen.
I turn to leave, my heart suddenly pounding wildly against my ribs. The adrenaline is starting to fade, leaving me shaky and unsettled. I force my legs to move steadily; I will not show any weakness.
As I step out of the kitchen into the hallway, I nearly collide with Darius.
He’s standing just outside the door, leaning against the wall like he’s been there for a while. His dark eyes are fixed on me; they are unreadable.
My chest tightens. There’s that pull again, demanding I move closer. I crush it ruthlessly.
“Were you eavesdropping?” I ask, schooling my expression into careful blankness.
“I don’t remember you being this person.” His voice is low, thoughtful. Not quite accusatory, but close.
A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “And? Did you prefer me when I cried andwhimpered?”
His jaw tightens, and I catch a dangerous flash in his eyes. “Why aren’t you eating with the family?”
“I prefer to spend as little time around all of you as possible.”
I start to walk past him, but his arm shoots out, blocking my path. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Thanks, but no.” I don’t look at him. “I’d rather eat nails.”
“Violet…”
I duck under his arm and head for the front door. I hear him following me.
The morning air is cool when I step outside. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. A sleek, black SUV is parked in the circular driveway.
“Get in,” Darius says from behind me.
“No, thanks.”
He moves faster than I expect, grabbing my wrist and spinning me around. My back hits the car, and he’s right there, crowding into my space, one hand braced against the window beside my head.
He looks furious. But there’s something else in his eyes, too. Something wild and desperate that mirrors the chaos inside me.
