“Say that again,” he said, his voice coming out husky.
“I love you,” I repeated. “I know that sounds totally crazy, because just a few days ago I wanted to—”
He cut me off with a kiss, deep and passionate, his hands tangling in my hair. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“I love you too, Violet,” he said against my lips. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”
“Good,” I whispered. “Because you terrify me too. In the best way.”
He chuckled and pulled me close. We stood there like that in my mother's living room for the next several minutes, wrapped in each other's arms, and for the first time since this whole crazy journey began, I felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
Whatever came next—the second Selection trial, the rest of the training, navigating life in the Club's world—we'd face it together. And somehow, that made even the impossible seem manageable.
46
Violet
I stoodin front of the floor-length mirror in my suite, staring at a version of myself I barely recognized.
Four weeks had passed since my trip to California. Four weeks of intensive training; etiquette classes, political briefings, lessons on understanding social hierarchies and navigating conversations laden with hidden agendas. Four weeks of practice dinners where every fork choice mattered, every word was scrutinized, and every gesture analyzed.
And now, in less than two hours, I'd have to prove that I'd learned it all.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached for my mascara, but I had to set it down again. This was the third time I'd tried to apply it, and my shaking fingers weren't cooperating.
“Fuck,” I muttered, pressing my palms flat against the vanity.
‘You're going to be fine, Violet,” Julian said from behind me.
I met his eyes in the mirror. He looked like his usual self; radiating the kind of casual confidence that came from a lifetime in this world. Meanwhile, I was a mess of nerves in a silk robe, my hair half-pinned, my makeup incomplete.
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I keep picturing that big New Year’s moment when the clock hits midnight. Like somehow that’ll be the second they decide they’re done with me. Goodbye to the old year, and also, goodbye Violet!”
“That won’t happen.” His certainty was almost infuriating.
I pulled away, pacing toward the massive walk-in closet that still intimidated me even after two months of living here. “I hope not,” I murmured. “God, I feel like my heart is about to explode.”
“Violet.” Julian’s voice was gentle but firm. “Come here, baby.”
I turned to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with those intense blue eyes that always seemed to see straight through my defenses.
Slowly, I crossed back to him. He reached out and pulled me to stand between his knees, his hands settling on my hips.
“You've been trained by the best instructors in the world,” he said quietly. “You've studied every possible scenario, memorized every protocol, practiced until you could navigate these situations in your sleep. You're ready.”
“But what if—”
“Do you remember what you said to Cherry in that theater?” he cut in. “When you got her to confess?”
I frowned. “What does that have to—”
“You walked into that room knowing you had to get a confession from a murderer who’d never want to give it, and you did it.” His hands tightened slightly on my hips. “You were brilliant, Violet. You played her perfectly.”
“Well… that was different.”
“How?”
“Because...” I hesitated, struggling to articulate it. “Because that night I was fighting for something that mattered. For Cal. For justice. This is basically just rich people playing dress-up and judging each other over the pettiest stuff.”
