Kill Game
Author: D.D. Prince
Date: 2021-04-22 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Dark; Romance; Contemporary; Contemporary Romance; Abuse; Crime; Suspense
Description: The flip of a coin. Lies. Broken promises. A debt to be repaid. A broken girl. How far will Killian go to make Ray lose? Taking Violet as a debt flesh payment becomes so... much... more... Wagers. Pain. Danger. Deceit. Is Killian just a player? Or... Is this game for keeps? Killian: Three years ago I let the flip of a coin decide which of us got to ask her out. The coin picked wrong. The beautiful, vivacious brunette I saw that night is a shadow of her former self. Because of him. It's time for me to fix and unbreak this broken girl. I decide to use his gambling addiction against him. But alon

Kill

Game

Devious Games Duet Part 1

by DD Prince

©Copyright 2021 by DD Prince – ddprince.com

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Dedication

For those of you who have found that you have trouble recognizing yourself because of what you’ve been through.

I hope you try to find yourself again.

Maybe you’ll never be the same as you used to be, but I hope you can somehow begin to feel pride, strength, and love for yourself when you look in the mirror – even if it takes time.

xoxo

DD Prince

About The Devious Games Duet

This book deals with difficult subject matters, such as domestic abuse and gaslighting/manipulation.

This story is intended for adults only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and mature language.

Kill Game is not an insta-love story. It is book one of two in a duet. This is the first part of a journey you’ll take with Killian and Violet.

Prologue

“You lied,” I say.

“Yes, I did,” he replies matter-of-factly.

I’m in shock. I can’t process this, especially not with his green eyes cutting through me, showing me what looks like the epitome of I give no fucks.

He has zero remorse. Zero.

Is that possible?

“I can’t believe you did that.”

Without hesitation, he replies.

“Believe it. I would lie; I would say anything to protect you. I’ll lie to anybody, you included, to keep you safe. To keep you happy and carefree. To protect you from how I know you feel right now.”

“Killian.”

His name sounds like pain. Agony. Like shock.

“Violet,” he replies coolly.

It’s true.

He did this.

He actually did this.

1

Violet

I’m Violet Rose Gates. I’m twenty-six years old, and I don’t know when I lost myself, but somehow, it happened.

I live with a narcissistic, lazy, abusive man. And I can’t figure out how to leave or make him go. Am I too scared of what he’ll do? Am I just too broken?

How has this become my life?

I can only explain it like that slow-boiling a frog analogy because it’s the only thing that makes sense to me as I look at the girl in the mirror, looking like me but not feeling like me – not feeling like me for a long time.

I have trouble looking into that girl’s eyes because I’ve let her down.

The slow boiling? Things got hotter and hotter, but by the time the water started to exceed 100 degrees, I was already conditioned, accustomed to being in hot water all the time.

I adapted. I changed.

I went from fun-loving and extroverted to quiet and reserved. Because I had to.

I went from chatty and sociable to quiet and timid. I don’t know at which point I began to shrink away, at which point I started trying to be incognito so that I wouldn’t do something to trigger an outburst from him, trigger hard questions from other people.

Over time, I devolved into a wannabe chameleon, trying hard to blend, doing whatever I could to avoid standing out. I try to hover under the radar with everyone, especially him.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but somehow I lost myself.

I guess it started by me going on high alert whenever Ray was around. Eventually, I became that way with everybody else, too.

I’d go out of my way to avoid his outbursts. They’re always explosive, sometimes verbally abusive. And when a mood strikes him extra hard, he’ll corner me.

He specializes in intimidation. And I’m convinced that bad things will happen if I try to leave. Very bad things. Murder-suicide headlines. Him sending the nudes I let him take of me when we were first together to my parents, posting them on the internet, talking to his friends that are mafia-connected about ruining my parents’ lives – that kind of thing.

He told me the nudes were missing when I asked about them over a year ago, which freaked me out. I’ve torn the apartment apart five times looking for them.

He was drunk one night a few months later and joked that he was holding them in a safe place as insurance in case I try to leave him. He then said he was joking, but I don’t believe him.

The last big fight we had was the end for me; the last of my feelings burnt to ash that night. I just haven’t figured out how to get rid of him. I’m also just… broken. I’ve become this meek, weak person filled with self-loathing.

Our first year together, I fell madly in love with him and was sure he’d someday become the father of my children. Fast forward to year two and every time he’d get in my face, I’d think, “Give me a reason.”

A few times he’d be an inch from my face screaming and it’d cross my mind…

Just do it. Get it over with.

Of course I shouldn’t need a physical cue to leave. Why would I wait until he causes me physical pain when he’s traumatized me to the degree I don’t recognize myself?

My brain knows all this, logically, but somehow I’ve become someone who ignores logic. Someone who has no voice. And if all the other things he did do didn’t amount to me leaving there was a good chance that a slap or a punch might not do it either. I’d probably come up with some excuse. Fear he’d hurt me. Fear he’d release those nudes. Worry that he’d hurt my family, stalk me. I don’t know why it happened, how I allowed it, but he’s systematically broken me. I do nothing. I stay. My life is just… paused.

I’m so angry with myself.

Do I stay to punish myself because I’ve allowed this to happen?

Is it because I know, bone deep, that he will become my stalker, my worst nightmare if I try to go? Why have I allowed him to reduce me to this weak, pathetic person?

My thought processes are all screwed up.

If the old me were on the outside looking in, I’d try to help that poor, pathetic girl get out of this situation. Talk to her one-on-one and if that didn’t work, maybe even stage an intervention. But there was no one to help me, no one to talk me into just doing it, because nobody knows how bad it is.

Why?

I’ve withdrawn from everyone in my life other than him. And I’ve withdrawn from him, too. Withdrawn from who I was, into myself I guess.

And I hate that I’ve allowed it to happen. I chastise myself for it – which isn’t good because if I wasn’t chastising myself, I was listening to him do it and over time with all the voices internal and external, I just feel… less.

No, it didn’t just happen overnight. A frog dropped in boiling water will jump out. This frog let herself get boiled slowly instead.

The first months with him drew me in and in hindsight, it was methodical. He had me making promises. Promises that he now reminds me of when we fight.

Ray has pale blue eyes that are so smoldering – in the early days I told myself I’d be willing to drown in them. I wish I could go back and warn myself that drowning is a torturous demise.

Now? Now I hate even looking him in the eyes as they’re a reminder of what I allowed to happen. A reminder of all the times he used them to cut me down, bit by bit, making me become less and less.

In the beginning, those eyes melted me.

These days, they pierce me. They’ve pierced so many times, I feel like Swiss cheese.

Ray has demons, so he told me early on; I just didn’t know that his demons would haunt me as much as him.

Back in the early days, I was a goner. Swept off my feet. But when the crap started, I tried to handle him with care, be supportive, be what he needed. I’d be there through the all-night talks we had as we held one another, touched that he trusted me with his secrets, talking about his demons, about his childhood, his abusive parents, about the fact that people always gave up on him.

Those early days set the tone for our relationship. I allowed him to emotionally blackmail me and eventually break me down.

I made promises at his urging, no – at his pleading. I wasn’t going to desert him. No way would I abandon him like his mother, his father, like his other girlfriends.  We’d be together forever; blissfully happy. Grow gray and wrinkly together. Have everything together because he swore he would give me the world. He knew when he met his dream girl, he’d move mountains to give her everything. He told me I was her. He’d spend his life giving me everything.

Or so he said. And so I believed. For too long.

Over time it became evident that the relationship was all about Ray’s needs and never about me.

He’d throw my promises in my face if I got angry or impatient with him and twist my words up to make himself the victim. What happened back then was what I now know to be gaslighting. Ray tried to manipulate me from the beginning.

He gambles. He lies. He screws up all the time. Forgets appointments or interviews. Sleeps in. Gets fired. Loses money.  Overspends. His temper feels like a ticking time bomb grenade, and anything can pull the pin. Illogical things even. He blows up over the slightest little thing, gets right in my face until I cower. And then he apologizes and begs me to forgive him. In the beginning, he’d beg me to give him another chance, beg me to be what I’d promised, not to ever, ever leave him, not to give up on him. In the beginning, it worked. He’d tug on my heart strings with excuses for his outbursts and I’d forgive him.

But over time, the bad moods became the norm. Threats almost always simmered below the surface. And he chipped away at my heart a little bit with each blow-up. I let myself become lost, became his emotional punching bag doormat.

On our second anniversary, we had a terrible argument over something stupid and I told him we needed a break, told him to leave and give me some space.

He looked me right in the eyes and told me he’d never leave.

“You made promises, Violet. Forever, you said. And forever it’s gonna be.”

The next day, he looked me dead in the eye and told me, “I had a dream that you tried to leave me. In the dream, I slit your throat and watched you bleed out. Not that I’d ever do that in a million years, but…yeah… weird dream. I know you’d never leave me.”

When I reacted by telling him he needed psychiatric help, he tackled me to the bed and held me for hours, pleading with me to love him, pleading with me to keep my promises, swearing he’d never ever hurt me.

I withdrew into myself and tried to figure out how to handle things. What to do next.

A week later, he went off on a random tangent while watching an old mobster movie about knowing people in the mafia from his old neighborhood who could kill someone without leaving a trace. Who could systematically destroy peoples’ livelihoods and lives.

The big fight a couple months ago when I snapped, telling him to go when he was screaming in my face, that was the last big one. He was losing it on me, in hysterics over the smell of our fabric softener giving him a headache, telling me that he told me a hundred times not to buy that one when he’d never complained about it even once, me crying out that enough was enough - I couldn’t take it anymore, telling him that he needed to go on medication for his mood swings, to leave me alone before he made me go crazy, too.

His reaction was to punch the wall beside my face and destroy something precious to me, the last gift I received from my deceased grandmother. When he destroyed that pretty antique china doll, it burnt what little feelings I had left for Ray to ash.

She gave me it for my twelfth birthday, the pretty doll in the purple dress. Purple for my name. I treasured it.

Seeing it broken on the floor, the doll’s face smashed, was a turning point, a twisting one. When he smashed it in a fit of rage and looked me right in the eye I demanded, “Go.”

He refused, so I tried to go. My world was rocked, and not in a good way, when my back was slammed into a wall, put there by his hand circling my throat. He told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t leaving.

“You made promises to me and you’re gonna keep ‘em. You leaving me, Vi? Only happens if I’m a rotting corpse. Or if you are.”

He then stared at me for ten seconds without blinking.

I didn’t look away. I didn’t cower. I looked at him with hate. I know I did.

His face changed. It crumbled.

“I’d never hit you, baby. Never. Never.” He cried into my hair.

I shriveled into myself.

“Vi, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I don’t deserve you. I’ll get help. I promise. I promise I’ll get help fighting my demons. I promise, promise, promise.”

I stared at the broken china doll on the floor and while my eyes were locked on it he begged me to mean more to him than an object. I said nothing. It was too late.

I don’t think I’ve come back out of the shrivel. It’s been a couple months.

Three days later, he was tired of my ‘attitude’; he was angry I hadn’t snapped out of it yet.

“It’s because you threatened me that I acted like that. Don’t ever threaten me, Violet. You know that whole thing is on you.”

I didn’t threaten to leave, I told him to go and then I headed for the door myself and was stopped.

I didn’t bother to correct him; I had nothing more to say.

A few days after that, he leaned over me late at night, reeking of beer while I pretended to sleep and said, “Should I have knocked some sense into you instead of the wall? You act like I did. Should I do it next time, since I’m being treated like I did, anyway? Should I try to hurt you the way you keep hurting me?”

I did not reply.

He hasn’t gotten help. Though, even if he did, I know I’m done.

Instead of making a run for it as soon as his back was turned, I retreated even farther into myself, because… because why? I’ve asked myself that question repeatedly.

Do I feel trapped? Am I embarrassed about what I’ve allowed to happen? Am I just afraid of how ugly it’ll get to split with him? Of the things he might do to get revenge?

Am I simply broken, like my little china doll?

I’ve become like an inmate, trying to keep my head down. Just doing my time. But the ‘just doing my time’ mindset really isn’t a well-thought-out plan because I have no inkling of what my release date is. I should tuck enough money away to make an escape but there’s never any extra. Not enough, anyway. He has taken control over my money and he overspends. I have a hundred dollars in the bottom of my tea canister that I saved four months ago; that’s it.

I don’t know how my life became this; I feel just… hopeless.

Just go? Figure it out later? I don’t know why I can’t just make myself do that. Go to my parents? Call up old friends and ask if I can sleep on their couch?

I’ve got a decent job; do I just give that up and go into hiding? Start over in a new city, maybe? Leave everything and everyone just to get away from him? I don’t have anyone but him because I allowed it.

I’ve thought about it. All of it. I just don’t have any solutions yet.

What if I go and he sends those pictures to my parents or hurts someone I love to get back at me?

Ray said he lost his bank card and kept making excuses for why he couldn’t go in and get a new one. Instead, he carries mine and gives me cash for the bus and groceries. It’s no accident. He wants me reliant on him.

I have no real friends anymore; Ray has seen to that. I’m no longer close with my family, either.

Today is the third anniversary of the night we met. He hasn’t mentioned it, so it’s obvious he doesn’t remember. It’s not like I’d expect a gift. I haven’t bought him one. Though, in the past I did.

In my mind, we’re no longer in a relationship. I’m just stuck with him in my apartment, in my bed, and in my bank account until I figure out how to pull the cord on an escape hatch I haven’t found yet.

***

It’s just after 7:30 when he comes in. The sound of his keys now leaves a familiar unpleasant feeling in my chest and my stomach.

I didn’t think I’d even see him tonight because there’s some sports game on that he wants to watch at a bar in our neighborhood and that would typically mean he’d get in after I’m asleep. Why is he early?

“Brought a buddy home, babe,” Ray calls out, “Dinner almost ready?”

I’m at the counter, making dinner for me. Only me.  Because Ray wasn’t here when I started cooking and I didn’t expect him to be here. Not only that, but I also know he hates the dish I’m making and I’m making it because I figured he’d be out.

He steps up behind me and pulls me against his body, but I cringe before I realize there’s another set of eyes on me as I’m turned around by my shoulders. Ray plants a kiss on my mouth. He tries to slip in the tongue, even, and my head jerks back in shock. And that’s when I get a glimpse of who he brought with him, standing just inside the doorway, watching me cringe, looking at me with rapt attention.

He saw me recoil. I think Ray missed it; his friend didn’t.

“Killian Coulter, my fiancée, Violet.” Ray releases me and I look straight into the piercing green eyes of the tall, dark-haired, handsome Killian. And it’s like his eyes have seized mine.

To say I’m shocked – major understatement. Because not only have I seen Killian Coulter once before; I’ve heard about him a hundred times. Ray idolizes this guy.

“Ran into Kill and it was bullshit at the bar, so figured we’d come back for dinner, beers, and to watch the game on TV. We got enough dinner?”

That game probably costs $49.99 on pay-per-view. And it’ll be me that has to pay for it.

“Um, yeah,” I say, still locked by green eyes. And I jolt. Because… why? I don’t know.

“You sure?” Killian asks.

I swallow and force myself to nod. “Welcome. Yeah, definitely. Can I get you something to drink?”

He steps up to me as Ray moves toward the couch.

“Great to meet you finally.”

He hugs me and my lungs seize. I don’t get a chance to hug him back before he moves away.

“Beers, babe,” Ray requests and waves for Killian to follow him to the couch.

My apartment is small. When you walk in, there’s my bedroom and bathroom in a short hallway to the left and directly ahead you’re looking at the small kitchen and that opens up into the living/dining room combo, separated by a peninsula counter.

Despite the size, it’s in a great location with a gym and great neighbors.

Well…when I talked to my neighbors. I don’t do much of that these days. People who used to say hello or smile don’t bother. They probably hear Ray shouting, throwing things. They probably feel sorry for me. Not that I make eye contact either. Nobody really talks to either of us, except Mrs. Shear, the elderly lady on the main floor who lives on her own. I think she’s got early onset dementia. She used to tell us that Ray reminded her of her son, Danny, but Ray told me recently she started calling him Danny whenever she saw him.

I bring beers to Killian and Ray who are getting comfortable on my couch.

“Thank you, Violet,” Killian says as I lean over, setting his beer on a coaster. Ray’s eyes are on the TV, but his hand is outstretched so I hand him his.

He immediately launches into a monologue with the specs for the TV he’s got his eye on, complaining about our television being a ‘piece of shit’.

I smile at Killian, whose eyes are still on me, before I move back to the kitchen counter, the intensity in his gaze putting me way off kilter.

Killian. The shock.

I’d seen him the night Ray and I met. And I haven’t seen him since.

When Ray and I met in that nightclub three years ago during a girls’ night out, he and Killian definitely stood out. And I vividly remember both sets of eyes on me while I was dancing. A song later, as I was moving back to sit with my friends, Ray walked over and asked me to dance. Killian disappeared.  It’s the night I’ve wished I could go back to and do-over. I’ve wished that more than once, because if I could go back knowing what I know now, I’d say no to the dance. Or I’d give him a wrong number. I wouldn’t be charmed by his looks, the sparkle in his eyes.

The two of them standing at that bar were pretty much in the league it’d be if Charlie Hunnam and Henry Cavill stood at the bar together. It was intense to feel both of those sets of gorgeous eyes on me while I danced with some friends.

I had the feeling they were talking about me and I still recall the way my heart flared wondering if one of the two would approach.

They were both dressed entirely in black, and Ray (tall, blond, with a sexy grin) and Killian (tall, dark-haired, and assessing) had their eyes on me as Ray whispered something to Killian. To say I was flattered to have both sets of eyes on me was another understatement. I’d initially been hoping it would be the dark-haired guy that made his approach. Something in his eyes stopped me cold and made my body tingle. And I’d always preferred dark-haired men over blond ones. It wasn’t him, though. It was Ray with his sexy smirk and his charm and those mesmerizing blue eyes that wandered over. And sadly for me, the minute he did, the dark-haired guy vanished. Though I never saw him again (until now), I’d heard about him plenty.

And Ray? He charmed the pants off me. Literally. No, not that night, but on date number four. Up until that point, it was a slow dance of seduction.

It started with a dance, and that smile, those blue eyes, and all sorts of charm that swept me off my feet. Three years later under that same blue gaze, instead of charmed I find myself cowering because he’s regularly yelling in my face or belittling me.

What if it’d been Killian that approached that night instead of Ray? Or nobody and I’d just gone home? Where would I be now?

As I consider this, removing strings off my sugar snap peas, I feel Ray hover over me at the same time as Killian excuses himself to use our bathroom. Ray’s smile is beaming and charismatic until the door clicks shut.

Ray’s finger then lifts my chin so that our eyes are locked. His voice drops low, and his smile is gone.

“You get my text?” he asks.

“My phone is still in my purse. Didn’t take it out after work.”

“Be extra sweet tonight, Violet. You represent me. I want Kill to know I got it good. Show him that. I mean it.” His index finger moves to an inch from my eye.  I say nothing.

He turns and stalks away, leaving me slouched in the corner as he plops back on the couch and looks at his phone.

When wasn’t I sweet? No. Seriously. I don’t even disagree or talk back anymore. I do nothing to earn me his ire, though just existing seems to mean I get it regularly.

Killian steps up to the counter a minute later, a frown on his face, his voice low. “Can I help?”

I know what he sees right now. Me, looking meek and chastised. Have I been standing here for moments in a daze?

“That’s okay,” I whisper, clawing at my throat. I feel like I’m about to break out in hives. Again. It’s been happening frequently lately, often syncing up with Ray’s moods.

I straighten up with a smile, going back to work on the stir fry. I’d originally planned it to be dinner tonight and lunch at work tomorrow. Looks like this is going to feed the three of us. I reach into the fridge and pull out more vegetables and the other half of the brick of tofu I’d just put away.

I feel Killian’s presence an extra beat, though my back is to him, then he walks back to the couch and finally, I exhale.

***

I’m moving toward the table twenty minutes later with the dishes for the meal and his eyes are on me from his spot on my red couch. His ankles are crossed while he reclines, looking casual in his Timberland Oxford boots, faded distressed jeans, a black button-down shirt with green pinstripes. He’s as tall as Ray, though I’d wager he’s in better shape. Ray always took care of his body, but in the past year he’s stopped working out and he drinks a lot of beer and some of it seems to be lingering, hanging onto his middle.

Though Killian’s clothes are casual, they fit him like they were tailor-made, and I see no signs of any sort of beer gut.

My eyes take in his mouth and his full lower lip. They then traverse the length of him before it hits me that I’m blatantly checking him out.

“Need help?” Killian offers and I try not to meet his gaze as I say, “That’s okay, thanks.”

And then I find myself in another eye-lock with him and his eyes have a twinkle in them. Damn. He saw.

My gaze shoots to Ray before landing on the table. Ray is oblivious, his eyes on the TV as he orders a $69.95 event.  God, it’s twenty bucks more than the last time. Like I need that expense.

Ray hasn’t brought home a paycheck in a month, says he got laid off early this season. We’re into Fall and last year he wasn’t laid off until December, so I suspect he didn’t get laid off, that he got fired.

Heat prickles in my body and I hurry away as Ray’s phone rings. He moves to the window and answers, looking out the drapes.

Killian gets to his feet and erases the distance between us before he grabs my hand and squeezes. “Let me help. It smells delicious.” He puts his lips to my cheek. “Really delicious.”

He moves to the table and as he breezes by me, making my knees go weak. What smells delicious? The food or me? I could swear he inhaled again while his nose was against me.

And that he put his lips on me right in front of Ray? That feels weird.

My face tingles where his lips touched and I’m about to touch the spot when I see Ray looking at me in the reflection of the window. I don’t even try to decipher the look on his face.

“Right back, guys,” Ray announces and heads out of the apartment with his phone still to his ear. I have no idea what that’s about.

“Bring it over?” Killian asks.

I nod, rasping out a scratchy “sure” and watch him carry the wok over to the table and set it on a trivet in the middle. I’ve already set the table with chopsticks for me, a fork for Ray, and I’d set out both options at Killian’s place setting.

While I’m at the sink, washing up some dirty dishes, I see Killian looking around, taking in the space.  My apartment is small, but it’s my personality. I’ve got some older furniture I’ve upcycled with paint or other embellishments. I have lots of color in the room, and I’m a tidy person. Ray isn’t, so I typically come in from work to a mess and wind up picking up after him before I start dinner. I wonder what Killian thinks of the space. Ray says he’s wealthy. He probably thinks it’s a dump.

Ray is back.

“Not this shit, Vi. Fuckin’ hate this shit,” Ray grumbles, coming over to the table. “We’ll be hungry in an hour. Where’s the steak? Chicken? And tofu? Fuck.”

My mouth drops open as one shoulder rises in the beginning of a shrug. Did he not see what I was cooking when he came in? The wok was on the stove and I was chopping vegetables. It’s obvious to me that his phone call, whatever that was, has set off one of his moods.

“It looks good. Smells awesome. Love stir-fried chicken.” Killian sits and drapes his napkin across his lap. I smile a little. Not a full-on smile, because Ray would take that as me mocking him.

Ray’s phone rings again so he says, “Shit. One sec,” and quickly disappears to the bedroom.

For a guy with almost no friends, his phone sure is busy tonight.

He makes friends easily but never keeps them for long. And I know it’s because he’s a pathological liar who borrows money and doesn’t pay it back, who goes out with friends and accidentally-on-purpose forgets his wallet. Often. People get sick of it.

Killian’s chopsticks light up as he lifts them. He looks at them in surprise.

I lift mine and they do the same, only mine glow blue and his glow red.

He smiles. “Where’d you get these? These are awesome?”

“Online,” I say.

“Very cool.”

Ray comes back to the table looking agitated.

He gestures to the wok with a look of disdain.

“Fuck sakes,” he mutters and lets out a heavy sigh.

“There’s some of that Irish stew leftover in the fridge from last night,” I say.

“Leftovers? You know I don’t eat nuked shit.” Ray rolls his eyes.

Since when? This guy will eat food cold out of the fridge. Or even out of a can.

“This looks delicious, Violet. If the ass-wipe doesn’t wanna eat it, he can order a pizza or heat up his own stew on the stove,” Killian says pointedly. “Tofu and sesame seeds, too. Nice touch.”

Ray’s face goes blank for a second and then he lets out a belated chuckle.  “Does smell good, even if there’s no steak. My girl can cook, man. You should taste her steaks.” He jerks his chin up at me.  “Vi, serve it up. We’ll just need you to whip up some snacks in an hour, kay, babe?”

Killian shoots him a look that tells him what I’m thinking and stands up, proceeding to serve himself. “It’s in the middle of the table, asshole. We can serve ourselves. This goddess is in a business suit. She work all day?”

Ray says nothing, but his eyes flare with what I know is masked anger.

Killian takes this all in as he continues. “She worked all day while you played the ponies? You shoulda been home makin’ her a meal,” Killian continues to fill the dish with food.

“My goddess likes taking care of me,” Ray defends. “Don’t be jealous, man.” Ray laughs.

Killian rolls his eyes as he switches bowls with me, serving me the food he’d just taken and then reaches again into the wok to serve himself. He sits. Ray glares at me before he rises and spoons food into his own bowl.

“Fuckin’ hate these,” Ray grumbles not two seconds after sitting, forking snow peas and water chestnuts out of his bowl, and dropping them on the tablecloth – the fresh tablecloth I had just put on the table.

Could have had left it in his dish? Or maybe used his napkin? I want to growl, but I know better.

“You know this, Vi.”

“Oh, I forgot,” I say.

In reality, I didn’t expect him here. I figured by the time he got home, he’d have eaten or would eat the rest of the stew in the fridge, or cold ravioli out of a can before he staggered to bed.

“Forgot,” he mumbles under his breath. “Fuckin’ makes salad for dinner sometimes. Or eggs in a pie. Who wants that for dinner? You put these things in here to piss me off?”

“This is great, Violet,” Killian says enthusiastically. “And I like quiche.”

“Thank you,” I say softly. “And it was a dinner salad. It had lots of stuff in it. I didn’t think you’d be here tonight, or I wouldn’t have put in the things you don’t like, Ray.”

“Yeah, I dig some of those. What kind of dinner salads do you make?” Killian asks.

I start telling him about an avocado and chicken caprese salad I used to get asked to make for potlucks, but Ray cuts me off.

“Get us another beer, Vi?”

“Sure.”

My chopsticks have been mid-air as I was talking, so I put them down and head to the fridge for beers. When I get back, Killian is giving Ray a death stare. I hand beers to the both of them but then see Killian hasn’t nearly finished his first one.

“Oh, I’ll put that back.”

“Or you can sit and eat after working all day and then coming home and making dinner, Violet,” he says softly.

The tone he uses, for some reason, it makes me want to burst into tears. I pull my lips tight, and my bowl of noodles, chicken, tofu, and vegetables looks blurry through the wetness in my eyes. My heart is thumping really hard, and my chest feels hollow, but I know I’ve got to hold myself together.

Ray repeatedly makes an ass of himself through the meal, telling bullshit stories to make him sound like his life is sweet and he has his shit together.  He does almost all of the talking and Killian doesn’t seem bothered by it, more like he’s taking it all in with avid interest.

As soon as I put my chopsticks down and wipe my mouth, shoving the bowl away about to speak, Killian stands. “Me ‘n Raymond are on clean-up. You go put your feet up. Or take a bubble bath. You run this girl bubble baths after a long day at work, man?”

Before I realize it, I show a pretty obvious scoffing reaction at that suggestion. Ray’s got his eyes on me and I know that look. I know it and I don’t like it. It’s the look he gets just before he turns mean.

“Yeah. Good idea, man. Give a kiss first, babe,” he orders, patting his knee.

I’m unable to stop myself from physically cringing, but I try to cover it up with a clearing of my throat and then I round the table and he pulls me onto his lap, putting his lips to mine.

“Dinner was good, Vi. Minus the snow pods and those chestnuts. Maybe put steak in it next time.”

“Glad you liked it,” I say, staring at my hands in my lap. His fingers caress my hip and then he gives a squeeze and puts his lips on my mouth again. Killian disappears behind us, heading to the counter with the wok.

Getting up with a mumble about needing the bathroom, I feel Ray’s eyes follow me as I scurry away.

***

The rest of the evening is spent with me puttering around, cleaning the bedroom and bathroom, running up and down from the building’s laundry room, serving chips and salsa at one stage and feeling like Killian’s eyes on me generated heat as I delivered the chips and suffered through another kiss from Ray. At the end of the sports event, the clock striking 11:10, I’m ready to go to bed. I linger in the kitchen, needlessly wiping the clean counters and I’m about to say goodnight when Killian stretches with an audible yawn.

“Mind if I crash on your couch, guys?” he asks. “I’ve had too many beers to drive, and I don’t wanna take a cab and have to hassle with coming back to grab my car in the morning.”

Killian’s eyes are on me.

I’d only served him two beers and knew Ray drank more than that, but maybe Killian had consumed a few before they got to our place. He doesn’t seem drunk, but what do I know?

Before I can reply, Ray is only too happy to oblige, telling me to get the sofa bed made-up and then getting nasty at the fact that the two pillows I put out aren’t enough. I put out two more from my bed. Killian tries to object, but Ray insists. By the time I get to bed, though, after putting the beer bottles in the recycling bin and washing my face and brushing my teeth, the bedroom is dark. Ray doesn’t usually go to bed this early.  Most nights I’m in bed way before he is, and I know it won’t be easy trying to fall asleep with him here.

I feel around in the pitch dark and surmise Ray has the remaining two pillows on his side and there’s nothing for me. I ball my plush bathrobe up and put my head on it.

I’m on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as I can get.

I feel a smirk tug at the corners of my mouth as I recall Killian’s voice calling him ‘ass wipe’ which I’m quite sure he did no less than three times.

Despite trying to settle in and fall asleep, my mind is all over the place. This is the case most nights lately as I lay in bed with regret blanketing me and what ifs sailing through my mind. But tonight, it’s worse, partly because Ray’s here beside me, but mostly because my brain is filled with all things Killian.

Everything about Killian intrigues me. Turns me on, even. And it’s been a while since I’ve felt any sort of physical attraction to anyone. I felt butterflies especially with the way he watches me. He watched me every time Ray was even slightly nasty. His eyes were on me every time I entered the room. And it felt like they were on me every time I left it, too.

Ray was extra salty with me in front of Killian at first. A show-off trying to make it seem like I was his meek and obedient girlfriend. But Killian was nice to me and kept giving Ray dirty looks as well as giving him shit for his attitude so as the night progressed, Ray got nicer. Ray got nicer to me than he’d been in a long time when he saw Killian’s visibly uneasy reaction at how he treated me.

As I’m pondering the evening, the blankets move, and Ray is reaching between my legs.  I jerk in surprise and try to turn over.

He pulls me back, roughly.

It’s rough in a way that, two years or even a little over a year ago would’ve felt like carnal passion. Right now … it doesn’t feel remotely passionate.

“Come here,” he whispers and leans over, touching his lips to mine. He stinks of beer.

I close my eyes tight. Shit.

“I have my period,” I whisper, lying.

“Don’t care. Need you,” he says, and his fingers assault me and sadly, I was a little wet, though not for him. Not at all for him.

He yanks my panties down and goes at me with his fingers like he’s on a mission.

He probably mistakes my wetness for blood. The room is pitch-dark and so he can’t see, but he’s never ever been remotely interested in sex while I’m on my period. Actually acted grossed out once in our early days where I suggested we just do it in the shower. Why now?

He’s trying to get me off. He hasn’t gotten me off in almost a year despite using me to get himself off whenever he feels like it. I go along because it doesn’t typically last long and it shuts him up, but he isn’t giving up this time. I’m fairly sure he’s doing it so Killian will hear us and think he’s a stud, a stud who’s making me happy sexually.

It goes on and on and I’m repulsed. Repulsed at the sound of the bed creaking, knowing it’s got to be audible in the living room, knowing Ray’s intentionally moving in a way to make the bed make noise. But more than that, it doesn’t feel good. Ray used to know what he was doing with my body, he used to be good at it, but either he can’t be bothered to put in any effort, or I’m just so repulsed by him that it makes no difference. Wanting it over, I finally fake it soundlessly with an exaggerated trembling of my body and a gusty exhale. I go lax so he’ll think I orgasmed.

He rolls onto me, “Get it out,” he whispers, and it takes a beat for me to realize he’s talking about a tampon.

I shake my head.

“I’m good. I was at the tail – uh – end.”

He thrusts into me with a groan. I wince as I’m not nearly wet enough, and no more than two dozen strokes later with a too-loud groan, he’s done.

He’s heavy on me. He kisses me, whispering, “Love you, babe,” and then he rolls away.

I go to the bathroom, quietly and when I’m back, he’s already snoring.

I lay awake half the night in my tiny one-bedroom apartment, thinking about Killian Coulter lying on the sofa, likely with his shirt off. Maybe even his jeans. And wondering if he heard that.

If Ray hadn’t been beside me I could’ve made myself come with my fingers between my legs and just that vision of him lying there on my couch in my head. I half-ponder going to the bathroom and touching myself in there. But I feel gross right now because again, I endured crummy sex just to avoid an argument.

When I finally close my eyes I chastise myself for denying myself even that little bit of joy.

I have to make a change.

I have to.

I’ve been telling myself this for too long, doing nothing about it.

Salty tears slide out despite my closed eyes.

***

When my six thirty alarm wakes me, Ray’s leg is thrown across me and he’s snoring up a good impersonation of a sawmill.

I carefully pry myself away and tiptoe to the bathroom, which is across from the bedroom.  After my hot shower, while drying off, I feel a stab of regret. I should’ve worn a shower cap and skipped a shampoo, using dry shampoo instead. I’m obviously on Old Violet autopilot, mindlessly lathering up my wet hair like I used to do every morning. I won’t be able to blow dry my hair without making enough noise to disturb both Ray and Killian in my small place.

I typically wash my hair at night to keep things simple nowadays, but the odd occasion I’ll do it in the morning and dry it straight in the kitchen because my big round brush dryer isn’t too loud and works pretty fast considering how much hair I have. It doesn’t typically wake him like my regular dryer.  But I’m not going to do that today and disturb our houseguest who is practically in the kitchen since there are no walls separating the kitchen and dining area from my living space.

I spend extra time towel drying in order to get as much of the wet out of my hair as possible.

I know better than to make noise when Ray is sleeping. He’ll wake up miserable and holler at me for it. I check the temperature on my phone and wince. It’s cold today. We’re just into October but it’s unseasonably cold, so I know my hair will be frozen by the time I get to work.  I’ll have to tuck as much of it as possible under a hat. I slip into the hall in just my towel when I come face to face with a shirtless, sockless, sleepy, sexy Killian.

Shit. Why didn’t I bring my clothes to get dressed in with me? Probably because I got about all of about three and a half hours of sleep and I’m not firing on all cylinders.

I freeze in my tracks and spectacularly fail in my efforts to not ogle his muscled arms and torso as well as the little happy trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. His jeans are only zipped, not buttoned, and my eyes are frozen on the sculpted V.

God, he is in good shape.

And bedhead looks extra-good on him.

2

Killian

Violet comes out of the bathroom barely covered by a red towel, her raven hair wet and when she sees me, her chocolate brown eyes go wide and her cheeks as red as the unfortunate fabric covering her hot little body.   She has got a killer body. I know she has a killer smile, too, but I haven’t seen enough of it since being here. I vividly remember it from the night I first saw her. That smile and those dimples are still imprinted on my memory.

The shy smiles she’d given me the night before were cute, but not beaming like they’d been that night when she cut up the dancefloor in sexy red sky-high heels with her girlfriends, all that dark hair whipping around, her arms above her head with a carefree sway that had my eyes just fucking glued to her.

He saw me looking and spoke first. Fucker made that bet with me. Never should’ve taken that goddamn bet. A jerk of my chin sealed it. He’d flipped that coin as he called it and then showed me the result before he smirked, then strode over to ask her to dance and get her number. I wasn’t surprised he got her attention. The guy always had sway with the ladies. It just never stuck, probably because he liked to play with girls as much as he liked to play games for money.

Kicked myself afterwards. Immediately. Pissed myself off so much I had to leave. Wouldn’t continue to watch what unfolded when he stepped up beside her and whispered in her ear.

Her eyes lit up and she laughed, throwing her head back. He twirled a lock of her dark hair around his index finger and then said something else. Her eyes moved toward me for a split second, but they never landed, because when I saw him put his mouth to her earlobe again and I watched her shiver, I was fucking outta there.

I was surprised to find out she’s still with him. Surprised is an understatement. That’s why I came back here last night with him – curiosity about her. How had he gotten a quality girl like the one I’d seen that night to stay with his sorry ass for three fuckin’ years?

Raymond never had a problem catching their eye. But he wasn’t the kind of guy you expected a quality girl to go the distance with. I expected to see she was actually not a quality girl, that I’d been wrong. She’d be a mess. Mentally or vapid. Or not nearly as beautiful outside the lights of that nightclub.

Yeah, I guess you could say I’d been sour about taking that bet, then losing it to Raymond Iadanza of all people, so I hoped to come here and see that no… I’d been wrong. She wasn’t a catch.

The last time I’d seen him was about a month after that night. I’d run into him in a strip joint and I’d asked him what’d happened with the knockout brunette from the bar, and he’d gone on about her being the sweetest piece of ass he’d ever had.  He said she had a good job, took great care of herself, gave world-class head, and that she was sweet to him.

“Too bad she’s got shitty taste in men. There’s her flaw,” I’d busted his balls.

“Naw, man, I’m hustlin’. On my best behavior so I get “in there”. I think I could fuckin’ marry this girl. She’s got it together, brah. Goals. Smarts. Sexy. Even does my fuckin’ laundry.”

I’d spit my beer out, in hysterics at that. When I recovered from a choking fit I’d said, “You get that knockout to marry your sorry ass and commit to washing your shitty drawers for the rest of her life? I might pay to see that.”

“Yeah? How much?”

He wasn’t even insulted. Iadanza was always looking to gamble. The guy had one of the worst gambling addictions I’d seen. And since I’d been bookmaking since I was sixteen years old; I’d seen it all. Back when we grew up in the same shitty apartment complex, played in the same park, shootin’ hoops at the same court as well as hung out in the same circles until seventeen or eighteen years old, I really only tolerated the goof because he made me money on his gambling.  I’d left the ‘hood shortly after he left me waiting too long for a payback and I nearly had his kneecaps shattered.

“Ten-grand.” I laughed.

“Done.” He held out a hand for a shake.

I didn’t shake on it. I think I said, “Get the fuck outta here!” And he’d laughed on his way out the door, telling me he was heading home to lay some pipe.

I felt sour. And mildly jealous for a split second, which was not my style. And I remembered that feeling when I ran into him again last night, which is what brought me to his place. Curiosity. I had to see for myself that she wasn’t what I’d remembered. Wasn’t the one that got away. Because something about her that night… it took me a few days to shake the sour at the idea I let her go because I didn’t stop the shithead from a coin toss.

The girl I’d seen here in this place didn’t seem like the same girl as at the bar that night laughing with her friends, dancing carefree on the dancefloor, filled with confidence when Raymond made his approach. This girl wasn’t a junkie or loser. She also wasn’t vapid. Instead, she was evidently beaten down by something or someone. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to see she was as timid as a rabbit and my guess was that Raymond was knocking her around. And I didn’t fuckin’ like it.

Not only did I not like it, I feel partly responsible for it. I saw her first. I let her go in a fuckin’ coin toss. And here we are.

Last night I crashed here not because I was drunk or even because I was too tired to go home. I only stayed because he was tanked and I had a feeling that if I left, he’d knock her around and I couldn’t stomach that.

So I slept on a sofa bed that was too small and not remotely comfortable instead of going home to my California King, but I slept on pillows that smelled like her perfume and shampoo.

She is beautiful. She’s beautiful and she’s broken. I don’t know much yet, but I do know that son of a bitch doesn’t deserve her. I haven’t yet figured out what I’ll do about it, though I know I’m going to do something.

3

Violet

“Sorry. I hope you weren’t waiting long. I’ll just, uh…” I step toward the bedroom door, carefully clutching the towel at my chest so it won’t drop.

Killian gives me a sexy smile as his eyes sear a trail that starts at my eyes and then travels down to my toes before lazily drifting back up. My nipples react with a sharp tingle that borders on painful.

“No need to apologize, Violet,” he says softly, looking directly into my eyes.

I immediately back up, taking in his face once more before grabbing for my doorknob. Our eyes meet for long enough for me to see that his green eyes sparkle with playful mischief before he closes the door.

When I close my bedroom door and lean back against it, I’m breathless. I feel a smile creep across my face as I sink my front teeth into my bottom lip. But then that smile dies on my face because straight ahead is my sleeping asshole abuser of a roommate.

Oh shit.

Horror washes over me, making heat sweep across my face.

My nightie and my undies are in there, on the back of the toilet, and if I remember right, my undies are sitting on top of my nightie, plain as day for Killian to see.

I bite my cheek and let out a sigh while getting my clothes together as quietly as I can and a moment later I hear his footsteps as he leaves the bathroom. I get dressed and carry my heels with me, so they won’t make noise on the wood floor, waking Ray and putting him in a mood, and then I head back into the bathroom to apply my make-up. Yep, my black satin poker undies are sitting right there on the back of the toilet, the perfect place for a guy to spy them as he takes a leak.

I toss them into the hamper in the bedroom before I go back out, finding Killian putting the sofa bed away. The stack of blankets and pillows are neatly piled on the arm.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, coming toward the coffee maker.

He watches me pop a pod in and put a mug underneath before I open the fridge. I feel his eyes on me while he stands there with his arms folded across his chest.

I shoot him a smile.

“Milk, black, hazelnut, sugar?”

“Little bit of milk. And yeah, gimme some sugar.” The gruffness of his voice as he demands that I ‘gimme some sugar’ makes a thrill shoot up my spine.

I make his coffee.

“More sugar,” he says huskily.

I spoon in a second teaspoon and stir it, avoiding his eyes because if mine meet them I’ll definitely blush. I make myself one in a ceramic travel mug and splash in some hazelnut creamer.

“How do you get to work?” he asks me, voice sounding funny, as if he already knows the answer.

“Today… bus,” I reply.

“Not carpooling with somebody?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you take the car? He’s asleep.”

“He might need it.” I look at my feet.

“He’ll probably sleep it off till you’re home from work. He got pretty hammered last night.”

“It’s all right.” I lift one shoulder in a half shrug.

It’s actually my car, but I don’t want to take it and deal with his mood later if he needed it. Ever since we got down to one car, it sort of became his. I never cared in the beginning, he’d drive me to work, but in the past year, he’s gotten harder and harder to get out of bed when he hasn’t had work to get to. Even when he has, sometimes he’s impossible to rouse.

Since he’s been laid off this time, I’ve just taken the bus instead of fighting with him to get up. Correction, I took my car a couple times a few weeks ago when he wouldn’t get up and got screamed at for an hour on the phone while I tried to work as well as dealt with attitude for days because he’d had plans that he didn’t tell me about. Plans that, evidently, weren’t enough to get him up the three times I attempted to wake him. These days, I’ve found it easier to just take the bus.

And the kicker? He lets me. Even if he has no plans. Even if he’s just planning on going to the bar that’s within walking distance. One of the many nails in the Violet and Ray relationship coffin.

Killian’s mouth looks tight. “Hang on…is it your car? He said it was. His is in the shop?”

“Pretty sure he needs it today,” I lie, and I know it’s unconvincing because I can feel my face flaming.

He probably talked shit about my car because it wasn’t a sportscar and evidently, he thinks he has to impress Killian.

“He even have a car?” he asks.

Of course I’m not about to say that Ray’s car got repossessed a few months after I met him, despite me giving him a car payment to get caught up.

“Umm…not at the moment.”

He shakes his head. He knows Ray. He and Ray apparently grew up together, so he’s obviously not surprised.

He poses a new question. “When do you gotta leave?”

I glance at the digital clock on the stove. “In about five or ten minutes.”

He frowns. “Your hair’s wet. It’s freezin’ out there. Frost on the ground. High winds by the sounds of it.” He looks at me like I’m an errant child.

I nod. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have washed it having slept in. I was half asleep in the shower. Don’t worry about rushing. Just… twist the lock on your way out and –”

“No hairdryer?” He sips his coffee as I put the lid on mine.

“I didn’t want the noise to wake you up.” More heat creeps up my neck and across my cheeks. “I try to be a… uh… considerate hostess. Don’t worry about it.”

He looks pissed. Pissed right off.

The vibe gets my heart pumping hard.

“I’ll drive you to work,” he tells me.

“Oh, that’s okay.”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ martyr. Take five and get the wet out of your hair.”

“Um, it’s okay, I…”

“Blow-dry your hair, Violet. It’s fuckin’ cold out there.”

“Okay,” I whisper and grab my regular one from the bathroom and set it up in the kitchen.

He frowns.

He’s wondering why I’m running it in the kitchen instead of the bathroom. Slightly lower chance of not waking Ray up.

I turn my head upside down and blast it for a few minutes, then duck into the bathroom to go with a ponytail because my hair is still a little damp and because of how I dried it, it’ll be too poofy to leave it down.

“Ready?” He asks as I emerge. He’s hand-washing his coffee mug. He sets it in the dish drainer, and I watch as he moves to the front door and grabs his leather jacket from the coat tree. He shrugs it on and holds out my coat. I let him help me into it before I grab my purse and my travel mug, muttering out a meek ‘thank you’ and internally chastising myself for it.

The elevator ride down is fraught with tension – his and mine – as I try and fail in efforts to avoid looking at Killian’s flexing jaw muscles as he stares at the elevator lights with his teeth tight together. Before we get to the ground floor, his eyes find mine and the look in them makes my heart pound in double time. He looks furious and I don’t like this feeling – like something bad is about to happen.

I know I’m overreacting, being stupid because of the affect Ray has had on me, so I dig deep and try to pull up some cool.

The doors open with a ding and he waves for me to go ahead as he holds the elevator door, so it won’t close on me.

I move ahead of him and once we leave the building, having no idea where he is parked, I search the parking lot to see which car looks like it doesn’t belong.

I stumble.

So much for pulling up some cool.

“Here.” He puts his hand to the small of my back and leads me to a white sportscar.

A definite hot guy car. Ray talked about Killian a lot over the years. He told me Killian was from his old neighborhood but had moved on and taken his bookie business to the next level. And then the next level again. Ray talked about how he owned multiple off-track betting sports bars. Ray bragged that he was a millionaire by twenty-six and that he dates models. He insinuated Killian was part of the crew he grew up around and pointedly said, more than once, that “Kill Coulter fucks people up who cross him.”

Everything inside of me tells me not to get into this sportscar. But I don’t know how to get myself out of it, so I get inside after he opens the passenger door. A gentleman. Just before he opens the driver’s door, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air.

I sit with my hands folded in my lap and fail in my efforts to not stare at how his hands move as he drives the spotless and fresh-smelling car. Ray is always leaving a mess in my car.

“Where to, Violet?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Where’s your office?”

“Oh!” I shake off my daze and tell him where I work.

We’re evidently going the wrong way, so he pulls a U-turn.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “Should’ve said sooner.”

“No biggie,” he replies softly.

“Sorry,” I repeat.

“Violet.” We stop at a red light; his eyes are on me. “Not a big deal.”

I pull my lips tight. I keep overreacting and I’m embarrassed.

The light feels like it takes forever. There’s a weirdness in the atmosphere. I feel his eyes on me and I keep mine firmly fixed on the stoplight, glowing red, setting off an alarm inside me. Like a warning.

“You’re not wearing an engagement ring,” he observes.

The light turns green and we’re moving again.

I stare at my hands. I’ve got a birthstone ring on my right ring finger. My left hand is naked.

“No. We, um, never got that far.”

“Haven’t?”

“Pardon?” I look at him.

He’s frowning.

“You haven’t gotten that far, or you never did get that far?”

My lips part but nothing comes out.

“Never got that far indicates you won’t go that distance. Your phrasing makes it sound like you and Ray are history instead of makin’ plans.”

My body jerks in response and I feel like I might vomit.

Shit. Shit.

“I don’t blame you,” he says. “Guy’s a fuckin’ loser.”

I swallow, unsure of how to respond to that.

“You’re not defending him. This tells me a lot. A woman has every right to be pissed at me for badmouthing her man. You’re not pissed. You’re flipped out.”

Moments pass with nothing but awkwardness. We’re almost to my job. My hands are sweaty. My throat is dry. Not to mention that my heart is galloping in my chest.

Killian speaks again, “You think me ‘n Ray are friends so you can’t say anything, but it’s obvious what’s happening with you two. You’re in the middle of breaking up and he lied about it last night. Tried to play it off like you two are good.”

I blow out a breath.

“Am I right?”

“Well...”

“You on the verge of gettin’ rid? Anything you say to me is between us, Violet.”

My mouth fails me. Again.

I am making an idiot of myself here. How does he know this? If it’s that obvious to a perfect stranger, why isn’t it obvious to Ray?

Awkward silence follows until Killian stops at the curb out front of my office building and leans over toward me, making me jerk tight. He opens the glove box and pulls out a little leather bifold.

“We grew up on the same turf, we have that history. But Violet… I’m not his friend. You see me in three years?”

I shake my head.

“No, you haven’t. Because he’s not my friend and I have no loyalty to that fuckin’–” He lets that hang.

Our eyes meet and I try to tear my gaze away, but I can’t seem to do it. Green eyes are burning into mine, holding me in an invisible but steel grip. His nostrils flare.

“Don’t stress. I won’t say anything to that guy about this little conversation. Here.” He pulls a business card out of the leather bifold and places it in my hand. “Use it if you need to.”

I blink at the card, feeling like my throat is dusty. I need to get out of this car, now, before I say things I shouldn’t. Before I fall to pieces.

“Thank you for the ride. And for being so nice to me.” I quickly get out of the car and shut it, then rush toward the door, tripping on a sewer grate but catching myself before I take a complete tumble. My coffee, however, does a slosh out of the mouth-hole of my cup and singes my hand as well as soaks Killian’s card, which falls. I all but tackle it before the wind can carry it away. I cringe at the burn and put the soggy business card into my pocket before I hurry toward the entrance, swiping my burning and wet hand across my coat.  As I get to the revolving door, I glance over my shoulder and see Killian is idling at the curb, still, eyes aimed at me. He’s seen it all. The fumble, the fight to keep composure, and the overwhelming urge to rescue that business card.

Strange though. It’s not like I’d ever use it. Why was it so important to me to save it?

***

I get to my desk and my curls are only partially frozen as I remove my hat. I’m early so I head into the bathroom and use the hand dryer on my hair.

4

Killian

I’ve been in a shitty mood all day long. I can’t seem to fuckin’ shake it.

That girl.

Can’t get her out of my head.

The contrast between her three years ago and now? Still beautiful. Fuck - gorgeous. But wilted on the inside. No light in her eyes. Sadness I can fucking taste. Like another woman I knew who was beat into submission by life, yeah, but mostly by the men she’d keep offering her heart to.

And the way Violet took my business card like it was a lifeline and then fought to catch it when the wind tried to take it? Fuck me.

I can’t work it out. The only thing that makes sense about why she’s still there is she’s afraid of that stupid ass-wipe loser fuck.

Yeah, my opinion of Iadanza has always been low, but now?

Raymond is a big guy, my height, and he was in decent shape back in the day.  Seeing him last night, he’s lost muscle tone and gained probably fifteen or twenty pounds of fluff, but still… he is a fuck of a lot bigger and stronger than she is. She’s probably five foot two or three, and curvy, but still tiny - the kind of tiny that evidently brings out protective instincts in me. And I’d seen him get mean with her in a controlled way more than once. I suspected by how she interacted with him that it wasn’t so controlled when there were no eyes around. Also figured if I didn’t react the way I did, it would’ve been worse. Her body language, the way she cowered, how she physically shrank from his touch when he showed attention… it said a lot.

But from what I gather, she works, and he doesn’t. He moved into her apartment with her way back, so unless they’ve moved since then it has to be her name on the lease. She has a car and a job. The furnishings are far from new and judging by the style, likely all hers. Her place, her car, her paycheck, and her stuff. Yet, he’s still there.

And puttin’ on a show for me after the TV and lights got shut off; I really fucking wanted to go in there and haul the bastard off her. The thin walls: I knew he was fucking her. I also guessed by how long it lasted that it was all about him. Not a surprise. Selfish prick.

Ugliness about him washes through me with recollections about some of the shitty things I’ve seen the guy do.

Back when we were no more than twelve or thirteen, I saw him take Halloween candy from a little kid my brother’s age and that was not the first time I tried to teach him a lesson. He was the kind of guy that’d find a wallet and keep it instead of trying to find out who owned it. In fact, when we were thirteen or fourteen, a girl who liked me said he bragged to her about mugging a grouchy old lady in our neighborhood the day she got her social security check cashed. Me and my buddy Dario were at the mall when this rumor started circulating, so we hunted him down and took turns taking the boots to him.

Fucker swore up and down he didn’t do it, but he had a new gold chain around his neck and a fat stack of bills in his pocket, the denominations no paper route would pay, and dirt-poor parents who barely had two dimes to rub together.

Iadanza kept out of my way for the next few years, but then he discovered gambling and I was taking bets, and didn’t discriminate on who was gonna make me money. And he did make me money – plenty of it for that time in my life - until he was late paying me, which at that point I would only allow to happen once. This was not long after I moved onto the food chain with Dario’s father’s company, a connected and dangerous organization backing me with cashflow and collections muscle if I needed it.

Raymond ended a winning streak with a big loss that he tried to dodge me on. I gave him one chance for old time’s sake, telling him he’d get his kneecaps shattered if he didn’t pay me within a week. Six days later, he handed the cash he cobbled together to Tino, a guy Mr. Ferrano let me use for collections. I directed Tino to warn with a 24-hour deadline before he’d deliver a beating. Ray called me and apologized, telling me he couldn’t believe I’d sent Tino Rossi his way with all our history.

“I can’t believe with our history you would let it get to a point where I had to send someone out,” I’d countered. “No further bets with me, Raymond. You’re done.  Don’t ask to bet with me again.”

Once I had to send someone out, that was it, I didn’t care who they were or what their excuse was. I had the means to keep taking his money but knew how it’d eventually end, and I wasn’t about to have that on my conscience.

I had shit to do. Money to make. Goals to achieve. Those plans did not include fucking around with pissants who couldn’t keep their gambling in check or pay their debts.

If I had to shatter kneecaps or bust some jaws, I’d do it – make no mistake, but Raymond Iadanza with his small bets and small mind was not worth that risk or effort to me. I always weighed risk and effort against profit when I made business decisions. He wasn’t worth it.

He steered clear of me after that, for the most part, though we occasionally saw one another in clubs and at parties up until three years ago.

I think I know who he places his bets with these days, a bookie called Hennessy with a big heart that lets people away with shit too often.

I decide I’ll call Henny to see what the word on the street is with this fuckhead.

***

I’m at home, feet up, dressed in sweatpants and a tee after my workout and staring out at the view of the sunset millions could buy in my city.

I bought this place almost a year ago, thinking about the future. Three bedrooms, though I hadn’t bought furniture for two of them yet.  Custom kitchen with pink marble countertops. I didn’t pick those counters for me. I’m not a guy that likes pink, also not afraid of it. It looks good and what I envisioned was a girl in there making me dinner. Or whipping up salad for us while I grill steaks on my patio. I haven’t bought the grill yet. I figure I’ll meet the girl first.

I’m recently out of a thing that wasn’t going where I wanted it to go. Or, more accurate to say it wasn’t going where she wanted it to go – me, wrapped around her little finger and led around by my dick for little to no payoff for me. I bought the place before I met her, and she hinted repeatedly at moving in. Kept trying to leave shit in my bathroom, and I kept tossing it out.  I didn’t bite and she didn’t like that. After I threw the third toothbrush and second box of tampons in the trash, she threw a fit and demanded a commitment.

I ended it and my love life has been quiet for a couple months.  Before Kenya, there was some bullshit with the twin sister of a buddy. That one was supposed to be strictly fuck buddies and it got sticky. I warned my buddy Jag his sister was veering into bunny-boiler territory with me and my buddy handled it, apparently. She hasn’t harassed me in a while.

I won’t be having just anyone move in. I’ve always known I’d wait for that step, wouldn’t let just anyone move into my space, until it felt like the right girl.

The right girl…

I shake the thought off about a dark-haired girl with sad brown eyes and great tits, a sweet ass, and killer legs. A girl wrapped in nothing but a red towel who wears underwear with poker chips, playing cards, and little dice on them. My cock twitches in memory of her that morning as I scroll to find the phone number I’m looking for.

Violet is broken. She probably isn’t my girl. If she was, I probably would’ve won that coin toss three years back.

Naw. Bullshit. I don’t believe in grand signs showing me my fate. I believe in seizing the future I want for myself. A broken girl that’s been all used up by Raymond Iadanza? Not likely.

The problem though is I’ve thought about her all fucking day long.

“Yo. Kill? Holy shit. Wazzup? How the fuck are you?” Hennessy greets me.

“Henny. Hey man, how’s life?”

“Life is sweet, Kill. What about with you? I heard you’re into it with an online casino, too now? That’s where the money’s really at, man. Good on ya. Been months since we chewed the fat, bro. Wish you’d’a let me in on that action.”

“It’s good, Hen. That’s a Coulter only thing, man. If I were in the market for partners I would not have hesitated.”

“Yeah, I know, Kill. But shit. It’s a good racket, huh?”

“Business is good, life’s a gift. Busy, busy. Listen… I wanna do a quick check with you on a degenerate.”

“Hit me.”

It wasn’t unusual for bookies to share information about clients. Check with one another if we had a feeling someone was out of his element by switching things around when they were at their limit with one or owed big and couldn’t pay. We checked in to make sure one of us wasn’t Peter to the other one’s Paul. When things got to that level, we knew it was often time to teach the dog a lesson or even to put the dog down. It was unfortunately common for a guy to get to his limit with one and try to bet with another hoping for a payout to take care of all his debts. Rarely worked out.

I haven’t been in the day-to-day or at Henny’s level for a few years, what with my off-track betting sports bars and now the website. The game has changed for me and this means I don’t need to deal with collections bullshit these days. At my clubs, people come in with money, they bet and they win, or they bet and they don’t win. While they take their chances, they spend coin on food and drinks with nice profit margins for me. I don’t bother with collections anymore because you don’t bet at my places if you don’t have the money up front. And my website is raking in money hand over fist with zero collections to bog me down.

I still hold bi-weekly poker games at one of my clubs. Those are for high rollers and those guys don’t need to get fronted. Ever. In fact, from the day I opened my first club, I had a no fronting policy. Didn’t want the hassles.

I may have gotten some of the money to open my first club through less than legit sources due to my connections along with taking bets and going to extremes for collections more than once, but I leveled up as soon as was feasible.

I bought out my investor and now it’s all mine. I could’ve done it almost a year ahead of the end of the contract terms, but I had to stick to the contract. It’s so profitable they wanted in longer-term, but didn’t push. We stuck to the original terms and it’s now all mine. I figured I’d have to leave town to fully break free of future obligations to that family, but they let me be, so I stayed. I grew it to a second club, a third, and I’m about to open my fourth. Financially, I’m four years ahead of my original goal.

The minute I had those debts to pay, I didn’t stop busting my ass until I was in a position to pay them, wanting the weight of those debts off my shoulders. And in all reality, I could sell the clubs and live more than comfortably off the profits of my website now, but I love watching things grow with the clubs. I have good people working for me and I like growing my business. I’ve already done the hard work, so now it’s mostly gravy.

“Raymond Iadanza,” I say.

“Fuck sakes,” Hennessy mutters.

“This is not a surprise reaction.”

“He’s on tilt, man. I’d say if you see that fuck, you tell him he sees me within twenty-four hours or he’s on my list, but I know that’s beneath you, Kill, so I won’t say it.”

“Shouldn’t let them get to that point, Henny. But you know this, so I shouldn’t have to say it.”

“Yeah, I know it. Bookmakers shouldn’t have big hearts, my man.”

“No, they shouldn’t. Can I ask?”

“Six large. I agreed to payments. He’s about to be two payments behind by tomorrow and I’m ready to start paying visits. Tell me he’s not into it with you, too?”

“Naw man, got different business with him. Just wanted the big picture.”

I shoot the shit with Hennessy for five minutes after that. He doesn’t ask me any other questions about why I’m lookin’ into Iadanza.

When I hang up, I have another fuckin’ flashback of Violet in that towel that morning, hair wet, draped over her creamy naked shoulders, her teeth embedded into that lip as she blushed in embarrassment while she checked me out. And not for the first time.

And then I went into the bathroom and looked at her fucking panties on the back of the toilet.

Yeah, it’ll happen; the memory of those panties has my wheels churning over ways I can use Raymond’s weakness against him to give that girl the chance to kick him to the curb.

I sip my drink and scroll to find the ass-wipe in my phone. We exchanged numbers the night before.

“Kill. Hey!” he answers on the first ring.

Eager fuckin’ weasel.

“What are you doin’ tomorrow night, Raymond?”

“Uh… dunno. Why?”

“Wanna sit in on my private game at Genesis?”

There’s a long silence before he speaks up.

“I… uh…” he struggles.

“There are rarely empty chairs, but tomorrow night I happen to have one,” I say.

He has no money. And he’s in the shitter already with his debt to Hennessy. I won’t offer to front him. He’ll have to ask. Even I’d bet on it and I’m not usually a betting man.

I understand the rules of the games better than most, but I know the house always wins in the end so decided a long time ago that my best bet was to be that house.

After a too-long beat of dead air, he speaks.

“I think I got something I can’t get out of man. I’ll check. I… uh… if I can swing it, what are the details?”

I smile. Hm. I’m wrong.

“If you can swing it, call me back and we’ll go from there. Let me know by tomorrow morning, man. Before ten.”

This shithead probably doesn’t get up before ten, ever.

“Will do. Thanks for askin’, brah. ‘Preciate it.”

“Gonna be a sweet game, Raymond.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, man.”

“See what I can do. My girl’s got me committed to doin’ this thing with her and… you know how it is. Gotta keep ‘em happy. I’ll see what I can swing.”

“Right. Ciao,” I say and hang up.

I make another drink, drink it back fast, and chew the ice cubes, feeling sourness at the fact that she’s likely home from work, in that apartment, with that fucker.

He didn’t ask me outright what the buy-in was. This makes me think he isn’t gonna try to come. I suspect he’ll lie awake all night trying to think of a way to get to that game. Gamblers at his level in this city have hard-ons to get invited to one of my private tables.

If he won, it’d clear up his debt with Henny.  Guys like that always think they’ll win. They think they’re one bet away from their luck changing. And on the rare occasion it does, they usually don’t know when to stop.

If he doesn’t bite, I’ll just have to tempt him a second time. I live in a world of temptations – temptations that don’t appeal to me because I see what they do to weaker men.

I know how guys like Raymond Iadanza think and I know I can easily use his demons to take him down enough that it’ll give that poor girl a chance to get him gone from her life.

5

Violet

I get home from work late and Ray is nowhere to be seen. I breathe a sigh of relief once I know I’m home alone.

This is what I want. To be alone. Solitude. Freedom from him. Freedom from the bile that rises in my throat at the sound of his keys jingling at the door, at the sound of his jeans and belt hitting the floor beside the bed at night.  I want to be free of that so badly, I can almost taste it.

Yeah, I wanna taste it on my tongue but to do that, I need to find a way to make it reality, and I feel cowardly that I haven’t found a way yet.

This is part of the problem – even when alone, I’m judging myself for all the things I’m not doing.

I warm up some homemade soup I defrosted and toast a bagel to have with it since that leftover stew is gone, the dishes in the sink. My stew wasn’t good enough for him when Killian was here, but it suited him just fine today. I roll my eyes at that.

I take a hot bath, and then I climb into bed with the remote control. After a few hours of mindless television, I flick the lamp off.

And then I stare up into the darkness and a reel of Killian Coulter plays in my mind. It starts with the night I first saw him three years ago, and this time it’s just him I see, not him with Ray.

And then I feel what I felt last night… his embrace. I can even smell his scent. I picture his smile. I see myself and him looking at me with that smile as he serves me dinner at the table. I remember the feel of his hand at the small of my back, feeling like a hot brand on my skin even hours after I got to work.  The way he looked at Ray when Ray was being – well – Ray.

I bite my thumb, thinking about how exciting it is to be smitten with someone. Those early days of dating… how beautiful it is to feel butterflies and excitement over getting to see somebody you can’t stop thinking about. Those first kisses … how they make your lips tingle for hours afterwards. How hearing their voice on the phone feels toasty inside. How good eye contact feels.

I imagine his mouth on me. His hands on me. My hand slips under the blanket and moves down until I find my way under my nightie and slide my right hand into my panties. Just as my middle and ring fingers connect with my swelling clit, I hear the door. Ray is back.

I yank my hand out and flip over onto my side, closing my eyes and biting my cheek.

Who am I kidding with these ridiculous fantasies?

If I dig my way out of this situation I’ll need a long time before I start dating again. Killian Coulter is out of my league, too. I have a lot of work to do to get my sense of self back before I can even think about dating anybody. A rich guy who dates models is nowhere near within reach for me. And really, I just want to be alone. I just want to stop being shouted at. I just want to stop feeling like I do.

I want peace.

Not long later, I’m still on my side, in the fetal position, staring off into the dark and stewing in the too-familiar ugly feeling in my belly until the bedroom door creaks open, a sliver of light slicing across me. My eyes scream as he flicks the light on. I squeeze them shut.

“Vi?”

The bed sinks near my hips as he sits.

“Violet?”

I open my eyes halfway, seeing him hover over me. I shield them. Old me would’ve given him shit for the blinding light.

“I need the title for the car.”

“Huh?”

“Need all the paperwork. Got an opportunity and I just got to –”

“The car isn’t paid off. I have four more payments to make.”

My heartbeat is picking up pace.

“Gimme the paperwork, Vi.”

“But it’s not paid off yet, Ray.”

“I have an opportunity and-”

“A car has to be paid off to get one of those loans.”

Not only that, I don’t want to get one of those loans. I don’t need my car getting repossessed right when I’ve finally paid it off.

“Fuck! How do you not have that paid off yet?” he snaps.
He reeks of booze.

I rear back deeper into my pillow. “What’s going on?”

Typical for him to blame me that the calendar isn’t where he wants it to be. Everything wrong in Ray’s life – somehow my fault.

He stands, thrusting his hands through his blond hair. He looks furious, or maybe freaked.

My eyes are still adjusting, but I squint at him, waiting, trying to assess what’s what.

He’s a mess. Definitely freaked out.

Those calls last night, him staring out the window looking paranoid – is someone after him for money? Did he borrow money? Gamble? What?

“I need money, Vi. I have this opportunity and it’s not gonna last longer than 24 hours. I saw this billboard for online instant approval loans.”

“The car has to be –”

“Paid off. Yeah, I fuckin’ heard ya.” He storms out of the room, slamming the door, leaving the light on.

I get out of bed and turn the light back out. But it won’t be over this easily; I know better.

I’m proven right ten seconds later. He’s back, flicking the light on again.

“You need to ask for an advance at work, Vi. Tell ‘em it’s an emergency. We need seven or eight k. Before you leave the office tomorrow.”

“I can’t get an advance like that, Ray. I can’t get any advances. They cut me off after the last one.”

“You work your ass off for that fuckin’ place and they won’t help you when you’ve got an emergency?”

“What’s my emergency?”

By the time I realize how much venom is in my voice, it’s too late to take it back. He lunges at me, fist pulled back ready to strike.

I don’t even flinch. I’m waiting for it. I wouldn’t say I want it, but it’s almost like… here it is. I knew this day was coming. It was inevitable.

I stare at him. Directly into his eyes.

He flexes his fingers and then his arm drops. He doesn’t strike, instead he drops his head into my legs and lets out a big, broken sigh.

I don’t move. I stay there with his head in my lap, ugliness slithering through my veins.

Here we go. Here we go again. A-fucking-gain.

“Shit got fucked up,” his muffled voice tells me. “If I don’t have six thousand dollars by dinner time tomorrow, babe, the people I owe to – they’ll break something. My leg. Jaw. Dunno. And then if I still don’t come up with it… I don’t fuckin’ know what’ll happen to me. Well, I do know, but I don’t think you need me to say. If I have seven or eight k, I can pay it back and use the other grand or two to get us ahead.”

This happened once before, just over a year ago. It was almost exactly the same. Him in a panic and me being stupid enough to ask what I could do. Him putting his head in my lap. Me putting my hands in his hair and rubbing his head while he told me that he fucked up. He cleaned me out that time when I cashed out my company stock and handed thirty-five hundred over to him to get him out of trouble with a gambling debt. He promised he was done and that he’d get help by joining a gambling support group.

Since then, he’s bled my savings account dry, racked up my credit cards, and he’s left me struggling to get to each payday.

“Our account, the money is there from our budget, right? I have a car payment due in a couple days.”

He knows how much money has to be in there based on the budget that’s magneted to the fridge, hiding behind the calendar. I update it each payday with the amount that can be spent after bills are paid.

“It’s gone.”

I gulp. I have four months left on my car payments. I’ve been paying for that car for 56 months. It was originally a 48-month loan, but he talked me into refinancing, to get the payments lower and it’d help us stretch our budget when he was out of work two winters ago.

My eyes bulge.

“Don’t give me shit, Vi.” He looks up from my lap. “I don’t fuckin’ need it, okay?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but your eyes are sayin’ it.” He sniffs, looking at me with wounded eyes.

Those expressions used to melt me. Not anymore.

I pull my lips tight and stare at the ceiling. My pay is gone?  That was supposed to cover my car payment, the internet bill, and part of it was supposed to be there to go toward rent in a few weeks. We were late on rent the past two months because of him so I’m already dealing with a superintendent who is losing patience.

“What can we do, babe?”

Read: what will you do, Violet?

“I … I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

He stares at me with hope. He hopes I’ll bail him out again. He hopes I’ll have some secret way to help. I’d come through before. An advance and then another at work, ruining my credibility with them. Cashing out stocks. Income tax refunds. My last advance, they told me they would only agree if I agreed to take a budgeting class. I was mortified.

My stocks: gone. My vacation: forfeited so I could get an extra two weeks’ pay at Christmas time.

I would put money in the bank, and he’d find a reason to spend it.

“I’ve got nothin’,” I whisper.

Read: you’ve milked me dry, Ray. There’s nothing left.

I know better than to ask what he needs the money for. I ask anyway.

“What’s the money for? Gambling?”

He shakes his head. And then the pace of the shaking picks up, along with the pace of his breathing. He’s in the hot seat. He hates being in the hot seat. When he has to answer for something, it makes him go nasty.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

It doesn’t matter what the money is for this time. It’s the same shit, different day. Why did I even ask?

His phone rings, so he pulls it out of his jacket and glances at the screen and his expression – like his phone is ready to bite him. There’s that much fear on his face.

I see on the screen it says Hennessy B.

“Fuck,” Ray tosses his phone to the dresser without answering it.

“I don’t have that money tomorrow night, Violet, I’m in big fuckin’ trouble.”

I can’t help but think, is this what’s gonna get him out of my life? Will he leave town? Run away? I feel a little guilty. Sort of. But not. But sort of. God, I’m such a mess.

I wish he’d just go. Go away and me never hear that he got hurt or not hurt, got his life together, didn’t, whatever.

He’s already bled me dry. Violet of three years ago, maybe even two years ago … she would’ve told him that.

Then again, Violet of before wouldn’t have let this happen. She wouldn’t have been in the position of being stuck in this apartment with this guy who is mean, moody, and has next to no ambition other than partying and gambling.

“Do we have anything we can sell?” he asks.

I shake my head.

How doesn’t he know this?

“More jewelry?”

I shake again. “You pawned it all except this and it’s not worth anything.” I play with my birthstone ring.

It wasn’t a lot of expensive jewelry, but he’s pawned everything I have after blowing a chunk of our rent money several months ago. He’d even pawned my little baby christening necklace. It made me sick inside when he told me he did it. I didn’t even give him shit because he told me he’d get it back for me before the time was up and I suspected he wouldn’t, got attitude the last two times I asked (so I stopped asking), but knew the pawn ticket was in the kitchen drawer so had kept the deadline in mind so I could try to find a way to get my jewelry back.

He thrusts his hand through his hair and shoots me an irritated look, likely for me bringing that up.

“I gotta… I’ll be back later. Make some calls. Try to fuckin’ figure this out.”

I say nothing.

He gets to the door, puts his hand to the knob and stops.

My heart drops. Go, go, just leave, please.

“You don’t care,” he says.

A hollow feeling spreads through me and I brace as he spins around to face me, shooting daggers at me from his eyes.

“No sympathy at all from you, eh, Vi? You’re probably happy to see me gone. Dead. Fuckin’ whacked. I saw how you looked at Kill Coulter last night, too. Lust in your eyes. Don’t think I didn’t. You think I’m a fuckin’ loser and you’re done with me. Done with me because I’m down on my luck. No for better or for worse, right?”

I scratch at my throat nervously. My neckline of my t-shirt feels so tight suddenly.

He lunges at me and I plaster myself against my headboard. He is in my face, not two inches away, yelling.

“Why are you shrinking away from me? Huh?” He hollers this so loud it feels like the room is vibrating.

I shake my head and a sob comes out.

“Quit yer bawlin’. You don’t fucking care if they break my legs. You probably hope they do. ”

“Of course I don’t want that,” I whimper.

He snaps back away from me and starts pacing the length of the bed.

“You won’t shed a tear if I’m found dead, floatin’ face-down in the harbor. Will ya?”

In my head, all I’m thinking is, go away, go away.

This is a nightmare. I don’t want to deal with this. This is why I’m so broken. I should’ve left him a long time ago before he broke me; before he turned me into this cowering person. I have nothing for him, and when he gets in a mode like this, it never goes well unless I solve his problems. I have no solutions. None. And he’s even more unhinged than the last freak-out he had.

Me from before he broke me would’ve yelled back at someone shouting at me, would’ve told them to get out, to go to Gambler’s Anonymous, but right now I’m sure that’d have him being even more aggressive. Breaking things. Doing his intimidation warfare approach.

If only I had a bunch of money and could pay him to go away, I’d throw it at him and tell him to go – take it and leave me in peace. I have nothing. And I’m frankly too scared to even say anything.  Besides, if I had the money, he’d just take it and be back to continue the bloodletting until there wasn’t a drop left inside me.

I might already be there. Bled dry.

He storms out and I know better than to think he’ll be gone for long. He comes back with my phone, which was charging on the kitchen counter.

“What about your parents. Can you call your parents and ask them?”

I shake my head. “I c-can’t do that.”

“Why?”

His eyes blaze. He’s that desperate. Beyond desperate.

“They don’t… they don’t lend money. I’ve told you before, my dad has a strict no loans policy.”

It’s true. Dad always told me that money could ruin relationships. He wasn’t kidding. But it wasn’t money that ruined things with Ray and me. It was Ray. I’d given him all the money I had without blinking before he ruined us by treating me like an emotional punching bag.

“So, he’s not willing to fuckin’ help you when you need help? What kind of an asshole won’t help his fuckin’ daughter when she needs help?”

Spit bubbles are gathered in the corner of his mouth as he rants about my father, who’s done nothing wrong.

All this because Ray needs help, not me. I’d need help, too, though. I’m broke and about to miss a car payment with rent day looming.

“This is bullshit, Vi. The fuck is wrong with them?”

I say nothing.

“Answer me!” he screams in my face.

“Stop it!” I shout. I can’t handle it anymore. “Don’t you talk shit about my dad,” I whimper, dashing tears off my face.

“Oh, don’t start that fuckin’ bullshit on me. Tryin’ to make me feel bad because your parents are assholes.”

He whips my phone and it dents the drywall before it hits the floor. And then other stuff in my room starts flying. My alarm clock. A bottle of perfume. A book. My purse was on my dresser and then he throws it and it sails toward me, hitting me in the shoulder before the contents go spilling out.

I’m ducking, using my arms to block my head and thinking that the coffee-stained business card of Killian’s is in a hidden compartment of my wallet and I have the urge to grab the phone and lock myself in the bathroom with it so that I can call him.

Why though?

Could he calm Ray down?

Or would he help Ray with his problem and take the heat off, leaving me with the same problems as before but with a less spazzed-out Ray?

Why would he? The little conversation we’d had this morning left me knowing he didn’t think much of Ray at all. But yet Ray talked about him often, name dropping about the successful buddy of his that owned a couple sports bars. Was he just being polite or was he someone I could really go to for help?

Killian doesn’t know me. He has a history with Ray. Why would anybody who didn’t know me help me?

And with how Killian talked about Ray, why did he even come over last night?

How had my life come to this moment where the first person I think might help here with my problem, my prison, is a virtual stranger?

“Thanks a fucking bunch, Violet,” Ray snaps and storms out of the room.

“Just go. Please just go,” I say.

I don’t know if he can hear me out there, so I say it louder.

“Please just fucking go, Ray! Leave me alone!”

I hear a series of bangs, crashes, and cuss words and then he’s in the doorway holding a folded twenty.

No. A couple twenties.

“Really, Violet?”

I blow out a breath and grip my hair in my hands on either side of my head. He’s found my stash in my tea canister.

He shakes his head in disgust. “You hiding more cash from me?”

I shake my head. “Maybe I was saving it for a birthday present for you.”

Bile rises in my throat.

“You lyin’ bitch,” he hisses.

I swallow.

Bitch. Lyin’ bitch.

“Now on top of all the other shit you do to me, you call me names too? That’s just lovely,” I choke. “Please go, Ray. I can’t take this anymore. Please just go. I don’t love you anymore. I want you to leave.”

“What the fuck, Violet? Is there more? More here in your other hiding places?”

He yanks my underwear drawer wide and starts flinging things around the room.

“How could I hide more than that? You have my bank card. You ran up my credit cards and I have nothing…” The word nothing trembles. With pain. With accusation.

He shakes his head and tosses the drawer in his hand at the wall. Another dent. He proceeds to open every one of my eight remaining dresser drawers  and rifles through everything.

“Oh yeah, I’m a piece ‘a shit. Just a piece of fuckin’ shit, ain’t I?”

I slump against the headboard and cradle myself, sniffling.

He goes through what’s left in my purse and my heart races thinking he’ll find that coffee-stained business card, but it doesn’t happen.

When he storms out, I hear multiple doors slamming.

I sit there, heart pounding, body trembling and do so for a good fifteen minutes, unsure of what’s coming next.

The bedroom is trashed. There’s another dent in the wall and more tear streaks down my cheeks.

Finally, I shakily get off the bed and head to the bathroom. It’s trashed, too. I use the facilities and wash my face, straining to hear if there’s any activity outside the door.

I hear nothing.

After a few minutes, I dare to go out. I find the apartment empty. Empty, but messed up. The candelabra from the shelf is on the floor. My aloe plant and my little juniper bonsai are knocked over. The picture on the wall tilted to the side. A hole the size of a fist in the drywall beside the fridge. Kitchen canisters knocked over and my tea canister on the floor, contents spilled out. Of course the cash is gone.

I’m afraid to breathe a sigh of relief that he’s gone. I don’t know how long of a reprieve I’ve got before he’s back. I shakily tidy up, my chest feeling like it’s caving in. My phone miraculously survived, but the side of the phone case is covered in scratches and drywall.

Ray’s phone is ringing again from the bedroom.

The same Hennessy B name is on the screen.

My stomach churns.

I shower, trying to get the water to calm my nerves, then get ready for bed again, on pins and needles, expecting him to come back any time.

He doesn’t.

I know I’m not lucky enough that he’ll leave like I told him to.

I should go. I should go to my parents’ house.

I should.

But I don’t. It’s like I’m paralyzed, like there’s an invisible fence around this apartment.

***

I wake up in the morning for work after another shitty sleep that saw me awake nearly every hour, and he still isn’t here.  I look out the window and my parking space is empty.

I quickly get ready for work and leave twenty minutes early, bloodshot eyes and feeling like I’ve got on weighted boots, hoping and praying I won’t see him coming in before I woodenly walk out and head to the bus stop.

6

Killian

The ass wipe didn’t call me about the game, so early afternoon, I call Hennessy.

“Kill! Yo, buddy.”

“Hey, Henny. Iadanza pay up?”

“Nope. Dodgin’ my calls, too. I’m about to start collections. Wanna share why you’re interested? Call me curious, but calls from you two days in a row? Can’t help it.”

“Maybe I’ll buy the debt.”

Silence for a beat. Then, “Seriously?”

“Serious,” I confirm.

“It’d save me some hassle, Kill. But… I’m surprised.”

He knows this isn’t my style.

“I have other business with Raymond,” I tell him.

“Clearly. You wanna, it’s yours. I’m happy to be done with him.”

“Good. Consider it done. Send Lou over to Genesis?”

“Sure. When?”

“Have him see Alana before close and she’ll settle. 85%? I’ll be the one to tell the shithead. Keep this between us. Should he show up with the money or an excuse, you take it, tell me and we’ll settle later, but give him the sweetheart Henny treatment.”

“Suits me, perfect. Much rather be a sweetheart than a face-buster anyway. Everybody knows I hate when they make me go old school. Thanks, bud. We should grab a drink soon.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Busy in two Saturdays?”

“Not so far.”

“Come to the Numbers grand opening. We pushed up the opening night so hadn’t gotten any invites out. You interested?”

“Of course.”

“Great. It’s black tie. I’ll have Alana give Lou a VIP package for you. Bring Janine.”

“Will do. Ciao, Kill. Thanks, man.”

“Ciao, Henny. Owe you.”

“Naw, man. We’re square. A) I don’t hafta deal with Iadanza and B) Was hopin’ for an invite to that opening.”

“My pleasure. You would have got one anyway.”

“Nice, man. Cool. You piqued my interest about your business with Iadanza, but clearly you don’t wanna say.”

I chuckle.

“All right, man. No hints, I see. See you there.”

“See you there,” I return without inflection.

“Eesh,” he adds as he hangs up, laughing.

Of course he wants the skinny, but he knows enough not to push.

I message Alana with instructions to pay Henny’s man Lou from petty cash and to invoice me for it with the code ‘advance’.

She replies that she will but then sends another text to remind me I’m my accountant’s worst nightmare.

I smirk, but don’t bother replying.

Instead, I then lean back and stare out the window, considering my next moves.

7

Violet

I’m home after working a few hours late, worried about going home and relieved to see my parking spot empty. I haven’t heard from him all day, but don’t feel relief at the notion of coming home to an empty apartment, because the unknown is daunting. I’m sure he’ll be back eventually and dreading the inevitable feels like the story of my life right now.

***

Ray crawls into bed with me just before dawn and gathers me close, crying himself to sleep, dripping tears onto the back of my neck.

I stare into the dark, feeling numb as this happens.

“I love you, Violet. I’m sorry I’m such a fuck-up. I’m not giving up on us. I’m not giving up on being a man who can give you everything.”

I say nothing. There’s nothing to say. I’ve heard this before, too.

I pretend to sleep through it, and lay still until my alarm goes off.

He’s snoring when I slip out of bed and as quietly as I can, get the heck out of there to go to work.

All day, I’m like a zombie. I need out. I need him out. Something.

I’m unable to shake the feeling of impending doom. And honestly, it’s been creeping up on me for months, but now it’s just not going away.

I hate it. I have to do something.

***

Again my parking spot is empty, and the apartment is quiet and dark when I get in after work and just as I feel a small measure of relief wash over me that he isn’t here, the lamp turns on. I see Ray from the corner of my eye.

I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Shh.” He puts his index finger to his lips and moves quickly to the door.

He moves so quickly I jerk back against the wall defensively. He drags the chain across, grabs my hand and pulls me into the bedroom.

The light is on, but the curtains are closed, the comforter hangs over the curtain rod. This is why I couldn’t see light when I looked up from the parking lot. The bed is unmade, the little TV on but on mute, and beer cans litter the dresser and nightstand, one of them on its side with a dark spot on the carpet where it spilled.

“Anybody out front? In the elevator or halls? Anybody talk to you or seem out of place?” he asks with both urgency and a slur in his voice.

“No.”

Where’s my car? I’m afraid to ask.

“Shit. You wouldn’t even know what to look for if you were bein’ tailed. You talk to your parents yet?”

I jolt with a double-take.

“I told you I needed fuckin’ help, Violet,” he says, loud.

“My parents won’t lend me money. I’ve had only a handful of conversations with them in months and…”

“And that’s my fault?” he whisper-shouts and then seems to think twice and presses his hand down in midair as if telling himself to calm down. A vein bulges in his forehead.

I hear a loud knock at the door. It’s assertive, the way a cop knocks. I turn to head in that direction, but Ray grabs my arm, roughly, halting me.

He shakes his head and puts the pad of his index finger to my mouth to shush me before pulling us to sit at the edge of the bed. He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck. He’s shaking. He’s really scared.

He’s trembling so hard it’s making my body vibrate.

And I’m numb about the fact that this is really my life somehow. Is there a debt collector at my door, ready to do bodily harm? I work hard. I’ve always done my best to be a good person. I don’t do anything illegal ever. I don’t even do that grey area stuff that every day average people get away with like watching pirated movies. I pay my way. Always. I was raised that way and I’ve always believed it’s the right way to live. I paid his way, too, because I used to love him. I tried to support him and be there through rough times, through screw ups, because that’s what you do when you love someone. But, when it’s all take and no give and when that person breaks you down through shouting, belittling, through extreme mood swings, lately most of them lows instead of highs?

I’m so done. So, so done.

Whoever he’s gotten in trouble with, this Hennessy B – would they hurt me, too? Is this what I get for my ‘give me a reason’ thinking?

His phone buzzes from on top of my long dresser, startling us both. He stretches to look over at the illuminated screen, not letting go of me.

Killian Coulter: I’m at your door. Are you around? It’s important.

He breathes out relief and lets go of me, heading to the door while thrusting a hand through his hair.

I hear him greet Killian at the door.

“Hey, Kill,” he greets. “Good to see ya, man. Sorry about that…”

Killian’s inside and as I’m at the end of my bed, trying my best to hide the terror I’ve been feeling, I just stare at him from here, seeing him eye me with interest, taking in the scene, I guess. Me at the end of the bed, still in my coat and holding onto my purse.

Killian’s eyes bounce from Ray to me and then take in what I quickly realize is the fact that the bed’s comforter is over the curtain rod.

“What’s up, man?” he asks. “Sorry, didn’t hear the door,” Ray slaps his arm casually and jerks his chin over his shoulder at me.

Right. Blame me. Make it seem like we were ‘busy’ or something.

Except, big, fat fail because one look at me in my coat and it’s obvious that’s not what was happening.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Killian offers, eyes on me.

I smile with a shrug in what I hope says nothing.

Killian’s dressed in a suit. He looks like a million dollars. He looks like a trillion in contrast to Ray who stands there in old jeans, sock-feet, and a ripped t-shirt with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. I wouldn’t feel this way if Ray and me weren’t where we are now, of course. I’m not that shallow.

I watch Killian’s eyes move around the darkened space, then Ray turns the hall light on and shuts the apartment door and locks it.

“Everything all right?” Killian asks, looking at me.

I fix a smile in place, but I don’t move an inch.

“Yeah man, yeah,” Ray answers. “Want a drink? Shit. I drank all the beer. Wanna go out for a beer?”

“Actually… gotta talk to you about something.”

“Violet, wait in there,” Ray calls back and walks Killian to the living room. “Shut the door, Vi,” he adds.

I shakily rise and close it.

***

Not even ten minutes later, after hearing the front door shut, Ray is immediately in the bedroom with light in his eyes.

His eyes are so filled with light, they’re practically dancing. But, to me, it almost looks psychotic.

“I got this, babe.”

I’m leaned against the pillows with my knees pulled up to my chest, watching television. I’ve been braced, actually. I’d tidied up and paced a minute, hearing low voices, and now here we are. He leans over and I think he’s about to kiss me, but he’s reaching under the bed. He fetches, then sets my suitcase on the end of the bed.

My heart skips a beat.

“I got this,” he repeats. “Killian has a job for me. An out-of-town job. It should get me enough cash to deal with that other thing and get us caught up.” He leans over again and drops a kiss on my lips before he opens the closet door and pulls some jeans and shirts out, dropping them on the bed. He goes to his dresser and starts tossing socks and underwear as well as t-shirts onto the suitcase.

“Gotta grab a shower. Pack that for me? Pack my suit, too? Need you to make me a strong mug of coffee so I can drink it on the drive to the airport.”

I blink. “What’s-”

“No time for questions now, Vi. I’ll explain on the way to the airport. Pack enough stuff for me for a week, babe. My nicest clothes. Strong coffee. We’re gonna be okay. You can breathe now.” He beams a smile at me. The kind of smile that would’ve dropped my panties before. Right now, I’m just confused.

He leans over and grabs my face with both hands. I go stiff as a board.

“My luck is turnin’, babe. It’s all gonna be good now.” He kisses me yet again.

He kisses hard and with tongue and with emotion. He tastes like beer. He also tastes like Ray and it’s a taste I used to love. Not anymore. I don’t kiss him back. I also don’t pull away. I just stare, I guess.

He looks into my eyes and his are wet. “I’m sorry I’ve been hard to get along with lately. I honestly think I was in a depression. It’s all gonna be better. Finally. Fuck. Finally, babe. I love you. Thank you for stickin’ with me through my shit. Love you so fuckin’ much.” He kisses me again and then backs away and hurries to the bathroom.

I don’t know what in the world is going on, but I’m in a daze as I robotically pack the bag for him with my heart racing the whole time.

***

He gives me another peck on my lips, repeating, “Don’t forget to call Henny. Not text. Call him. Make sure you speak to him, even if you gotta call a bunch of times. I love you.”

“Okay,” I barely get out and he’s running from the car to catch his flight.

I drive home in a daze.

He was so excited to go; he didn’t notice I didn’t say I love you back.

Or he did and he’s still in denial. I mean, obviously he’s in denial. I broke up with him the other night. Again. And he ignored it.

Lately, when he says the L-word and I didn’t say it back, he calls me out for it and gets all miserable or storms off. This time, he is gone, suitcase in hand and out of my life. For a week. A whole week.

I cry all the way home.

I cry because I’ll have a whole week of peace. I cry, too, because it’s only a week and I know I have to figure my stuff out in this time because I have to find a way out. I have to.

If I’m smart, I’ll take this time to pack my shit and go. Or… pack his shit and make him go.  Leaving him might be my best shot but I’m the one with a life here. My family lives nearby. He has no one but a mother that he doesn’t talk to. I have a job. He doesn’t. It’s my apartment.

He has this opportunity, so he’s going to make money and not be so reliant on me. He’ll come back with cash in hand so that he can take care of that debt of his and move forward.

I need to convince him to move forward with his own life. And leave me alone.

I’ve had a good reputation with the landlord up until recently. I’d be late on rent, but I’d ask for an extension. I have no money for my car payment, but I’ll ask for an extension. I’ll live tight and lean for a while and get caught up. With not having him to worry about, I’ll be able to do it.

He left my bank card in case his trip got extended, saying Killian might send him to another location after Atlantic City for a similar job. My account has $27 in it and I have bus tickets to get me until next pay, so I’ll use it to buy a bit of food to tide me over and I’ll find my way there – where I need to be. I’ll get there and figure out how to be strong enough to make him go when he comes back. Make him move out. I’ll get through this with the seven days ahead of me of peace and quiet. Time to figure things out.

We hurried to my car, which had been parked two blocks away because clearly, he was hiding. I barely listened when he talked on the way to the airport about how Killian was going to make him a lot of money, how Killian needed someone like him in his organization, how Ray’s expertise would benefit Killian’s company.

He was flying to Atlantic City to gather intelligence on some of Killian’s competitors. He was going to bring it all back for Killian, having all expenses paid while he was gone. Killian gave him a company American Express card for his expenses and would be paying him eight grand for the week on top of that, money that’d come when he got back. He told me he was having a company phone sent to Ray, too and Ray’s phone was about to run out of his prepaid plan so he’d might as well leave it here so I can use it to call his bookie and cover that for him.

He gushed so much and said Killian’s name so many times it would’ve been comical under any other circumstance.

Ray gave me that one task to complete while he was gone – call his bookie on his phone and tell him Ray is out of town and will take care of him the minute he’s back. He told me I should tell “Henny” that he’s out of town working for Killian Coulter and that he’ll be back in a week and will immediately deliver what he owes. He told me to make sure to use Killian’s name.

I got home and immediately made the call, hating that I had to even do it but wanting it over with.

My dad taught me you should do the most difficult task in your day early instead of putting it off – then it was one less burden to deal with. I should’ve followed that advice always, but had forgotten over the last few years. I’ve decided I’m re-adopting that motto.

“Hennessy here.”

My heart is in my throat as I stammer,

“H-hi. I’m calling for Ray Iadanza. He asked me to tell you he’ll be back in one week and will take care of what he owes you in full the day he’s home. He’s out of town working for Killian Coulter.”

There’s nothing but background noise for a beat and then, “Who is this?”

“Violet. I’m calling for Ray. I didn’t know anything about what he owed you, it’s not my thing, I’m just doing him a favor by making this call.” I want that crystal clear, so I won’t suddenly be on the hook for this debt, too.

“Okay, Violet,” he says softly.

Then nothing. Dead air.

“Okay, well, thank you.”

“Thanks for calling,” he replies.

I hang up and find I need to sit. My knees have turned to jelly and I’m clawing at my throat as I lower myself onto the couch before I force myself to breathe in and out slowly.

Out with the bad air. In with the Ray-free air. Out with the bad.

Phew.

That whole thing was unsettling. I don’t know the guy to know his usual demeanor, but he seemed thrown by my phone call. I half-expected threats or demands that Ray turn up sooner with the money. Or more questions. The task felt too easy and that’s left me wary.

I decide to put that unsettled and nervous energy to good use and stay up until after one in the morning, cleaning the apartment, pulling his remaining stuff out, and putting it all on my dining room table in organized piles.

I find his missing bank card sitting in the bottom of his nightstand, underneath the only remaining necktie as I’d packed the other two for him. I glare at it and then I put it on the dining room table.

By the time I’m done, I’ve resolved myself. This is my apartment; this is my life here. He’s gonna be the one to go. He’s got just a few bags and boxes worth of clothes and stuff and that’s it.

All the furniture is mine. He came here with clothes and little else when he moved in. He’d sold anything of value he’d bought, like his video game console, his two guitars that I’d bought him (an electric one for our second Christmas, an acoustic one for his birthday the first year). All that was here was some clothes, some tools that he used for work (which I bought on my credit card, but wasn’t about to keep) some CDs and a few odds and ends.  I’ve decided to use my car after finding a folded up twenty in his sock drawer that I can use for extra gas so I can ask the mailroom guys for some cardboard boxes that I’ll use tomorrow to pack him up.

If only I could find that envelope of nude Polaroid pictures he took of me.  Back when I loved him. Back when I’d do anything he wanted. Anything to make him happy.

I start to feel bone tired. At least tomorrow is Friday and I’ll have the weekend ahead of me. Ray-free.

***

I leave early and take my car to the cheap $4 spray and wash place on my way there so I can get the dirt, junk, and stink off.

When I get to work, there’s a vase with a dozen roses on my desk. Blue roses. It makes me stop and teeter on my high-heeled booties.

“Ooh, look!” Cammy, my cubicle neighbor bounces excitedly, popping up over the half-wall between our workstations.

“Who is it from? Anniversary? Your hunky fiancé in the doghouse? Hm?”

I feel shaky, wanting to chuck the bouquet into the trash, thinking Ray has done this with Killian’s credit card, trying to buy some sort of good will with me. The blue roses surprise me as it doesn’t seem like Ray’s thing. They had to cost a fortune. There’s a card in a black matte envelope. The vase is even black. Sleek. Classy.

I open the envelope with Cammy watching me.

The glossy white card has thick black ink.

“Violet roses for their namesake.

Roses are usually red but these ones are blue.

I hope they make you happy and smile, too.

Lame? Should I have gone for a limerick or something?

This whole thing is coming off corny but I have one card and wrote on it in ink instead of pencil.

So poetry isn’t my forte, but I’d hoped to make you smile the way you smiled three years ago…

I gave very explicit directions to the florist so please send me a picture of your delivery with your beautiful smile in that picture so I’ll know –

1: that they did it right and

2:  that I made a beautiful woman smile and show me her adorable dimples.

Killian

“Well?” Cammy asks in a high-pitched voice. “You’re blushing!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of… personal.” I shrug.

“Of course it is. No juicy gossip for Cammy. The fiancé? You don’t have his picture on your desk anymore. Is this a different man? Is he half as hot as that blond?”

I pinch an imaginary zipper across my lips and wink at her.

She beams. “Don’t make me put my sleuth hat on, chickie. Oh, and there’s donuts in the break room.”

“Thanks, Cammy.” I smile and take a picture of the roses. And then I take a selfie in front of them and check it out.

My smile drops. What am I doing? What was he doing?

Three years. He remembers me from that night? I didn’t think he did.

He’s Ray’s boss now, technically, and why is he sending me flowers and asking for a selfie and talking about a smile from three years ago?

It would be rude to ignore his request, but why would he even make that request? And goofy poetry? Calling my dimples adorable? I don’t know what to make of this.

8

Killian

It’s been an interesting week watching things unfold with both Raymond Iadanza and Violet Rose Gates.

It started getting interesting Sunday night when I got the alert that he’d taken out a second five-hundred-dollar advance from a casino ATM within twelve hours. It had begun.

His descent.

I knew it wouldn’t take long, that the lights and action of Atlantic City along with the other traps I’d set in advance would reel in an addictive personality like his. I intentionally left him to his own devices on Sunday and it was working like a charm.

He was given an electronic package with his directives including a list of spots to mystery shop at for me. He was supposed to get covert photographs and make lists of specific things. Reports were due daily, except Sunday. That package also had a list of his allowances for his expense account. And he’d gone over. Each day. This told me he barely paid attention to that section of the dossier, but regardless, my assistant had him sign the employee contract and take a snapshot and send it to her an hour after he landed and before she activated the Amex card for him.

I even told him to look over the contract before he signed it and contact me if he had any questions. He didn’t call.

It was a fool’s errand, designed to get him out of town and to put him in a position of facing temptation after temptation, so that he’d have to come back and answer to me for what I knew would be the outcome – going over the budget in his expense account.

And only three days in, it’s obvious – he’s living large on my tab and now he’s taking out multiple cash advances a day. And that’d cut into the money he thought he had to pay Henny when he got back.

The contract listed a generous daily allowance for food, drinks, and gambling and his room and transportation were covered. He’s been splashing out on top shelf booze and surf n’ turf dinners and using the company card like it’s a free-for-all.

He clearly did what most people do when they see a long contract. Skim fast, stop reading after three or four lines of legalese, and then just sign the bottom.

He didn’t take the bait on Friday night with the prostitute that was paid to tempt him. But on Saturday night, he took two other girls back to his room. This wasn’t prearranged, just fortuitous. Also fortuitous but arranged was that what happened up in his room was recorded. I have footage of him stopping one from giving him a blowjob, though he looked tempted, like he was warring with his conscience. Then, he watched the two girls go down on one another at his command, while he jacked off. He didn’t fuck either of them, but did he think that meant he was being faithful to his girl?

Would Violet see it that way if she saw the video? He paid them three hundred bucks a piece and let them clean out his mini bar on the way out, looking ready to pass out with his bottle of top shelf scotch and his spent dick hangin’ out.

He’d also done a lot of gambling, beyond the two hundred and fifty bucks a day limit his employment contract stipulated. The contract told him if he won, the winnings were his. I knew he’d get a taste and lose control. And it happened sooner than expected. As of only Sunday night, things were already going the way I envisioned. What is he thinking? Is he thinking pulling a grand off the card? Is he thinking he’ll win and give some money back? Is he even thinking?

Now, Wednesday, the day before he’s due back, my interest is more than piqued as I got footage from a friend in the business who had him in one of his private lounges. He sent me footage of Raymond doing three lines of blow while getting a lap dance.

This morning, I told my assistant to freeze the company Amex Ray was given and send him a text that he’s gone over his spending limit per his employment contract.

It’s been a few hours and he hasn’t replied to her.  I booked a very specific room for him; one I could tap into for a security feed. After he got that text, he read over his employment contract and then he cussed up a storm before counting the cash in his wallet and storming out of the room. He’s realized he’s fucked up. Fucked up badly. And the stack of bills in his fist won’t likely help him make that money up at the tables.

And Violet Rose Gates?

I have more information on her, too.

The day after he left when I sent her flowers, she passed a test. She was a good girl, not taking the bait.

She sent me a text message Friday morning with a photo of her flowers.

She did not, however, send me the selfie I requested.

“Hi Killian. This is Violet Gates. I’m not much for selfies but wanted to thank you very much for the flowers. It was a lovely gesture. As you can see, they are beautiful. I’m very appreciative and I am smiling. Many thanks.

I’d expect most women who got flowers from me in a situation like hers would be all over making the most of the attention I was giving. I don’t know if Ray’s told her anything about me, but she knows I’ve got money by the car I drive, knows enough to know her loser boyfriend is working for me. And with her loser boyfriend being out of town, that selfie could’ve come in sexy or could’ve come in friendly, but instead, she opted out of sending me one because she probably thought it was inappropriate that I sent her flowers and corny poetry but didn’t want to encourage it, even though there was chemistry between us. And this said something to me about the kind of girl she was.

I knew by the way this girl looked at me in her apartment and in my car that there was chemistry. I also didn’t know by her actions if she only appeared to be stuck with a loser or if she, too, was a loser. Signs were pointing to her being the stuck one, though for three years? That doesn’t add up for me.

Why is she stuck? Does he have something on her? Why is she with him if she doesn’t want to be? She’s a catch and doesn’t need to worry about being alone if she doesn’t want to be.

I trust my gut - always - and it’s been telling me she needs help, but won’t likely ask for it.

Talking over sending him to Atlantic City, I asked if he had a local only plan. He did, so I told him to leave it behind and that I’d have a company phone waiting for him when he arrives. I sent him with enough cash for a cab to the hotel that we booked for him from the airport in Atlantic City. The phone thing was fortuitous; it gave me access to his calling records.

I noted he has not called her even once. There were zero incoming calls to that number from the Portland area while he was gone, meaning she didn’t call him, and he sent her only one text, on Tuesday. She replied and that was it. Signs point to this girl being ready to be done with him. And what about him not even contacting her? I’m thinking he’s giving her space, maybe, after a rough patch? It could also be that he doesn’t give two fucks about her and is just living it up. His regular phone pinged as still being in Portland the day after he left, so he had no other phone to call her with.

I ran a basic background check on her, and it came up squeaky clean. She’s from a good family and other than her finances and credit being in the shitter, there isn’t much else. No criminal record.

I’d called her job for a reference check on Friday afternoon and her boss was concerned that Violet was thinking of leaving. I fibbed and told her I was about to headhunt Violet, but that she hadn’t applied for a job. I tried to act like I might want to headhunt the boss, too, and she wasn’t interested. Loved her job. Violet was good at her job and they didn’t want to see her go.

So, Violet Gates is a bit of a mystery.

I messaged my buddy Dario for a private-eye recommendation a while back for a different matter and that hooked me up with Zack Jacobs Investigations. I use his services to follow Violet for the week and let me know as much as they can find out.

Zack’s employee Wes says Violet worked and went home Friday. She carried up a bunch of empty boxes after a suited guy at her office helped her load them in her car and tried to chat her up for a good while. She gave him a polite brush-off, then once home she did not leave her building even once all weekend. Wes said signs pointed to no one visiting her. At least not from outside the building.

Early this week, I got parking lot photos of her through a window in the building gym on the treadmill. She apparently uses it almost every day for an hour in the evenings. She visited the public library once, took long walks downtown alone twice, eating dinner out once. Again alone. She doesn’t go out for lunch at work. No outside smoke breaks. Not a smoker and evidently not a slacker.  She worked late twice.

She was alone, other than when at work, from Friday until Wednesday night.

What gives, Violet Rose Gates? What are you all about?

9

Violet

Wednesday

It has been an interesting week without Ray.

I’ve had all kinds of me-time. Me-time that I desperately needed. I used it to pack his stuff, clean my apartment from top to bottom, practice some self-care (movies, homemade facials, doing a manicure and pedicure while watching some of my favorite cheesy movies), and mostly just trying desperately to get my head right.

I looked through photo albums, read old journals, looked at my social media accounts way, way back.

Whether I’d done enough to reconnect with the old me or not remained to be seen.

See, the old me was fun-loving, care-free, and confident. It’s like I’m doing a research project on someone I used to know, and my take is that I was never confrontational; I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t a tough chick or a badass in any way, shape, or form. I was just me. I had a great family, a great group of friends, and I liked to have fun. I volunteered, I was honest, paid my taxes, voted, called people on their birthdays, sent thank you cards like my mother and grandmother taught me. I was just Violet. I didn’t like people mad at me. I always tried to see the good in others. And I fell in love with a lie and held on too long because I was trying to be loyal, trying to love unconditionally. But I’ve since learned that love should come with conditions.

By the time Sunday night rolled around, I felt a little lighter. And I hadn’t made any decisions yet, but I knew I had only a few days left to make sure my life didn’t continue on as it has been. I know I have to do something.

When I got to work Monday, I felt pretty good, knowing I still had some time before he got back. But then I got summoned to my boss’s office via a Post-it note on my laptop and I was nervous. More than that – more like terror-stricken, worrying that the rug was about to be yanked out from under me, that the one positive constant in my life right now – my job and a paycheck – was about to go away.

I was pleasantly surprised (not to mention relieved) when I found out I’d been given a bonus and a raise.

I got a five thousand dollar a year raise and a gift certificate for a day at a day spa from my boss as well as a $1500.00 bonus check, which she handed to me with a speech that got me choked up.

“We appreciate you, Violet,” Shara said. “And we just wanted to tell you so. Take this Friday off as a paid day on us and enjoy your day of beauty and pampering. You deserve it. Keep up the great work. And mum is the word on this and your bonus, but there’s a great chance you’ll get a promotion into management in six months or less if you keep up all your great work. We’re looking at a possible acquisition of a competitor, a big one, and it’d mean a purchasing team instead of just you as our sole buyer. You’d be ideal to manage that, and it’d come with another raise.”

It felt like this came out of nowhere. I was shocked. My suppliers all liked me. None of my coworkers seemed to have a problem with me, and I continually worked hard as a buyer to get stuff in faster and at the best price possible. I felt like a bit of an outsider, though, because they were a sociable bunch and though I’ve been here four years, in the past two years I hadn’t done the social thing too much. No drinks after work. No lunches out with the girls. They all gave up asking a long time ago.

But my hard work? It was paying off.

It gave me a lift that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

God, I needed that.

And having $1500 in my pocket after scraping by the last while felt great. I’d be able to dig myself out of the Ray-sized hole much faster.

Even better was that Ray didn’t know about it and therefore couldn’t spend it.

On my lunch hour, I called my bank and had them open me a new bank account. I also filled out a form at work to have my future paychecks deposited there instead.

It feels like I’ve taken a step in the right direction. An important one.

***

Tuesday, fifteen minutes after I got home from work, there was a text from Ray. That was what started the audibility of the already ticking clock for me because reality smacked me in the face. Two more days until he was back. I had just that one text from him, zero phone calls until then. The text:

“Hey babe. My flight is in Thursday night at 6:30. Please pick me up. Trip is going great. See you then. Love you.”

I replied.

“See you Thursday.”

Nothing else came in after that. I didn’t have to be fake-nice or anything, either. It struck me as strange.

He’d gone there last Thursday night and didn’t even try to reach me until Tuesday and only reached out because he wants a ride.

It’d been a relief, though, as I’d had almost five full days without hearing his voice. I was living. Working. Working out. Reading, watching TV, just – being. Being me. Not the me I used to be, but better than the me I was last week. So much better.

His stuff was all packed up in my hall closet in three boxes and one and a half garbage bags plus his tool chest. That was the extent of his belongings. The rest of the contents of this apartment are all mine. I even repaired the two holes in the walls with some spackle and sanded them like a pro with plans to paint when the next part is done. I’ve got more plans for some extra redecorating, too, when I’ve gotten ahead financially.

The next part… ending it. That was what I was now trying to figure out… the how-to.

I mean, I told him it was over already; I’ve told him twice. He just ignores it and bulldozes over me.

I’ve got to find a way to make him realize I mean it.

And then once it’s over, life will resume for me. I feel like I’m in limbo until then.

I’m aching for the time when I can do what I want, be responsible for only myself. No one hassling me about what to cook or not cook for dinner. No one spending my money. The whole bed to myself. Nobody shouting, criticizing… I can hardly wait.

The simple freedom this week of being able to take a walk and window shop. Being able to drive my own car to work instead of sitting on buses. I even treated myself once to a stir fry at my favorite takeout place and I went to the library and borrowed some books. I read every night with no interruptions and sleep in the middle of the bed with all the pillows. I’d changed the sheets and my bed no longer smells like him. It smells like vanilla fabric softener – the vanilla fabric softener that he complained about. But I love it and have gone without because he doesn’t. I used double in the bedding load.

Nobody makes a mess.

No one shouts at me or makes demands that are impossible to meet.

The amount in my (new) bank account won’t change unless I spend it. No more NSF fees when he spends money that’s earmarked for something else. No more money disappearing because of free trials he set up and never bothers to cancel. Any bullshit with that joint account is no longer my bullshit.

I switched my credit card bills and utility payments to my new account and my bonus paid my car loan payment on time. I’d be on time for rent too and can finally pay more than the minimum payment on my credit card. I still have four hundred dollars at work in a locked desk drawer, just in case when he gets back he somehow gets his hands on my new bank card or tries to bully and take it from me.

What will I say to him?

I can pick him up at the airport with his belongings and ask him where he wants to be dropped off, making it clear he’s not coming here.

I can spend a chunk of what’s left of my bonus and book a hotel room for one night and drop him off there with his stuff.

I could not pick him up at all and when he calls, tell him his belongings are in the hallway. I could ask my superintendent to change the locks. The lease is in my name only, so maybe Ray can take his fat check from Killian Coulter and go stay in a hotel.

Or I could bring him back here, sit him down, then try to reason with him. I know reasoning is a longshot. He hasn’t been a reasonable person in a very long time. Why now?

Maybe because he has prospects. Maybe because he’s excited. Maybe because even if he doesn’t have me, he’s got this exciting new job and money in his pocket and it’ll make him care less that I want him gone. That he hasn’t called me even once is something most women would think speaks volumes. Maybe he’s going to come back here and break up with me anyways.

If he were reasonable and a grown up about it maybe he could stay on my couch for a few weeks while he found a place. If I thought it’d work, I’d say that I wanted to be friends (a lie) but that I thought we’d grown apart and that now that he had these great new opportunities, I feel it’s time to go our separate ways. Amicably.

I’ve also thought about doing it in public and that would mean a chance he’d stay calmer. If it didn’t work, if he went crazy, maybe I’d have to let him think he talked me into giving him one more chance. Then we’d go home and the next day, I’d take the $400 and rent a room for a couple days while I figured out what to do.

And now I’m second-guessing all of it, thinking no. No! I need reinforcements. I can’t do this alone. He’s gonna go crazy if I try to kick him out. He’s going to bully me or go psycho like he did just before he left.

I pace half the evening mulling over my options.

Bottom line, I know I have no choice but to find someone to take my back. Because he isn’t going to be reasonable. He’s going to be Ray. And I’m stupid if I expect him to be anyone but the Ray I know. The Ray that’s been making my life hell.

Actions speak volumes. I need to judge him based on that and plan for the worst.

The week to myself, the vote of confidence from work? It’s bolstered my inner strength enough to make me believe I can now do something I wish I could’ve done a long time ago.

The clock is ticking louder. He’s coming back tomorrow. I finally conclude that of all the people in my life I can use as reinforcements, there’s one that might be willing to forgive and forget. I won’t know unless I try.

I feel sick about what I have to do. Calling her. Nearly as sick as the idea of seeing Ray tomorrow. Because I fucked up. I fucked up badly with her. My stomach is cramping, my neck is out in hives, and I’ve gone to the bathroom three times in the past half an hour. I need to just pull the trigger - just make the call.

***

It’s 9:50 when I finally call Susanna, my best friend. She is still the best friend I’d ever had, but calling her, I don’t know if I’ve been replaced as her bestie. We had a fight two years ago that was about Ray and how he was overbearing and changing me, and how I’d started to withdraw. That fight made me withdraw even more. In hindsight, a few months later, I realized he’d sabotaged the whole friendship by acting a certain way around her and telling me that she was going to try to break us up because she’s jealous that she doesn’t have me all to herself.

Of course when she came to me with her concerns about him I defended him. Because he set it up that way by circumventing her and telling me in advance that she didn’t like him, asking me things like, “Doesn’t she want you to be happy?”

He’d drop comments suggesting she’s jealous because I was in a serious relationship and she wasn’t.

He didn’t outright insinuate that she’d flirted with him when they first met, but he planted seeds as if she wanted what Ray and I have, and acted a certain way out of jealousy.

“Does she always flirt with everyone?” he’d asked.

“She dresses like she wants attention, doesn’t she?” he also said early on.

“You look beautiful, babe. Susanna is going to be green with envy. Or greener than she usually is.”

Stuff like that. A gaslighting, manipulating personality.

He did something similar with my own mother, not including the flirting thing, acting like she didn’t want me to grow up and be self-sufficient.

And I allowed it all. I got tired of defending him to people when they started to notice things about him. And angry when he’d tell me he didn’t think people liked him or that they didn’t want us together, so I went from defensive to where I stopped telling them things. I got tired of his reactions whenever they wanted to see me or do things with me, so I stopped accepting invites. Invites eventually stopped coming.

As for Susanna, I haven’t missed a birthday voicemail or Christmas text message, but the responses were one-liners, and I knew she’d long since given up on me. That she didn’t call back after the birthday voicemails but instead texted with a ‘thanks for the birthday message” was my own doing.

Until six months ago, I even made a point of making sure I gave a reaction of a like or loved every single Facebook or Instagram picture too.

Susanna stopped tagging me as her ride or die chick, too. I saw another girl that I knew she worked alongside now getting tagged in funny memes that would’ve previously had my name on them. It hurt, but it was because I’d allowed it to happen.

I take a big breath and finally scroll to her contact info. I shakily touch the screen.

She answers. I’d fully expected to get her voicemail, or that it’d ring once and then go to voicemail because she declined my call.

“Hello?”

I can’t find my voice.

“Hello? Violet?”

Obviously, she knows it’s me calling. I hadn’t changed my number. And she hasn’t deleted me from her phone, I guess.

I’m crying. Audibly. Shit.

“Violet?”

“Susanna…”

“Is that you? Not a pocket dial?”

“It’s m-me,” I say.

“Uh… hi.” Her voice is a little cold. “What’s up?”

Strike that. A lot cold.

My fault.

I take another big breath. “I’m ending it with him tomorrow. It’d be really good if I had you on standby if… if it goes bad.”

“What?” she snaps.

“I… I haven’t been honest about how things have been with him and they’ve… they’ve gotten really bad. I’m scared about doing this tomorrow, and…”

There’s dead air for a minute and I’m experiencing an overwhelming pain surge because I know I messed up and left this too long. She doesn’t care. And it’s my fault.

“Fuck. I knew it,” she snaps.

I swallow. Maybe all isn’t lost. Maybe?

“That asshole,” she hisses.

My knees falter, so I steady myself by leaning against my kitchen counter.

“Suse… can you…do you think… I know I’ve been a colossal asshole, but could you –”

“I’ll be there tomorrow, Violet. I will fucking be there holding your hand and if he doesn’t go, I’ll punch him in his stupid face and make him go. You hear me?”

I choke on a sob.

“I fucking knew it. He hits you, doesn’t he?”

“Not exactly but…”

“Verbal abuse?”

“Yeah. More like terrorizing.”

“Cocksucker,” she growls. “I could see the potential for that ugly. I told you…”

“I know. You were right. I was… blind. Stupid.”

“Defending him. Standing by your man. Of course you were. You’re the most loyal person in the world.”

But I failed to be loyal to my best friend.

“Ugh… I…” I can’t get the words out. My chest hurts.

“Abuse is abuse even if it’s not all physical. I knew he had it in him the second time you brought him around. Motherfucker was playing mind games from day one, Violet. Day one. He found twenty ways to tell you the sky was green until you were convinced of it.”

My words come out in a fast jumble. “I don’t know what’s happened to me, Susanna. I’m broken. And he’s been gone a week and this week I’ve done a lot of soul-searching and… and you probably won’t recognize me. I mean, I look like me, but inside, I’m… I’m not me. I miss you.”

I hear her choke up. Damn, but I’ve really missed her.

“And I miss me, too, Suse,” I add.

“We will get you back,” she vows. “We will fucking get you back, Violet. That sonofabitch. I knew it, but you didn’t, and you wouldn’t hear it and I just hoped you’d eventually open your eyes.”

“I opened them a long time ago, but I didn’t know what to do about it.”

“Girl, you should’ve called me a long time ago. You know that right? I will be there for you any time, any place, no matter what. I’m as loyal as you are, but to people who deserve it. You know?”

“I know. I fucked up.” I sniffle.

“Okay, it’s okay. It’s fixable. What’s the plan?”

“I have to pick him up from the airport tomorrow and…”

“Fuck that. Fuck him.”

“No, I think I do because I got all his stuff packed and after I pick him up –”

“Pick me up first. I’ll be there every minute. He’s gone, Violet. Gone even if I have to get him gone myself.”

I love my best friend. And I really do miss her.

“I should’ve done this two years ago,” I say.

“Three. And I know,” she whispers. “But better late than never. You’re doing it now.”

“I am.”

Damn it, I am!

“Pick me up at work tomorrow at five,” she demands.

“I’ll be there right after I finish work.”

“Good. I’ll be outside. I love you. I’ve missed you. And I will help you put yourself back together, Violet. I promise.”

“Okay. I love you, Suse. Thank you. Thank you for this despite that I have been- I just wasn’t, I couldn’t…” I don’t know how to explain it.

“I love you, girl. I got you.” She doesn’t make me keep struggling to find the words.

God, I love her.

I hang up and cry myself to sleep.

It feels like a good cry, though, mostly, because whatever happens from here on in, I’m no longer feeling so alone.

***

My workday Thursday? Never-ending. Endless. Not only do I have extra to do because they’ve given me Friday off, but also, what I’m planning to do tonight weighs on me, making every task feel like torture.

I’ll pick up Susanna after work and then head somewhere to fortify myself and brainstorm ideas for how to play it. Then, the airport where we’ll pick up Ray. She’ll probably tell me to greet him at Arrivals and say goodbye right there.

***

My best friend stands outside her job at a bank a short 10-minute drive from my work. All this time, she worked so close to me and lives ten minutes in the other direction and yet I’ve felt so alone. The instant I see her, emotion overwhelms me and my heart feels like it’s about to burst from my chest.

She’s pacing with her arms folded across her chest and she looks angry. She sees me pull up and opens the door and looks in at me, eyes on fire.

“Your face is covered in angry sauce,” I tell her.

She climbs in, throwing her overnight bag in the back seat, bursts into tears and puts her arms around me.

“I fucking hated him for the past three years but now… seeing your face, hate isn’t a strong enough word,” she says.

Susanna is such a good friend. She and I met in grade seven when her family moved two streets away and we’ve been inseparable ever since the first day of school that year. If I wasn’t at her house, she was at mine. We were together constantly, even through our late teens and early twenties.

Until Ray.

She’s gorgeous. She’s a mixture of French and Barbadian heritage. Susanna is slim and almost flat-chested up top and curvy from the hips down with envious unblemished and unlined caramel skin. She has striking pale grey eyes and is such a beautiful soul it shines from her. She vaguely resembles a young Mel B from Spice Girls and the Scary Spice part fits because she stands up for people she cares about and causes she believes in. She is the only soul I know with more hair than me. We both have mad curls and hers are a cross between her black mother’s and white father’s hair. Light brown but insanely curly, bordering on untamable. Like her spirit. As much as I’d been sad about seeing her posts and pictures online as my only connection to her for a long time, seeing her in person has me feeling a bit more like my old self already.

Something-Sauce face was a joke we’d used to make one another laugh in the past if one of us was grouchy, dating back to her getting angry at a boyfriend in high school and fighting with him in the cafeteria with barbeque sauce on her face.

She angrily clicks her seatbelt on while staring ahead at the windshield. Then she starts to speak, not looking at me.

“Okay, first off, rage sauce.”

Oh shit. That’s a new sauce.

“Violet, I love you and I’m happy you’re back, but girlfriend, we aren’t talking shit out as a post-mortem until this is over. If you tell me what he’s been doin’ to you, I know I’m gonna cut the sonofabitch and he’ll need a post-mortem for real, and if I’m in jail, I can’t be getting reacquainted with my girl and helping her get back to her amazing self. So, what’s the plan?”

She’s still not looking at me.

“I figure we can go get a coffee and figure that out.”

“Coffee, yes, but I got it figured out. We pick him up and drop it like it’s hot. No beating around the bush. Welcome back, Ray, we’re over. If you promise to be reasonable, I’ll drive you to my apartment and you’re gonna pick up your stuff and take a cab wherever. Our time together is over. He’s not reasonable? We drive off and leave him there. I spend the night and make sure that a) he does not hassle you and b) that we get drunk and you tell me all about it. Purge it and get it gone out of your gut and your heart and then you begin your healing journey. Okay? I have to be at work tomorrow, but I already told my boss I’d probably be late and hungover, so she has me in the back room filing and shit instead of customer-facing, so no biggie.”

“I have tomorrow off, and my work is sending me for a spa day.”

“Perfect timing then,” she says. “My bag has a change of clothes, my makeup, pepper spray in case he tries to be an asshole, and three bottles of wine I bought on my lunch hour. One for you, two for me since you’re a lightweight. Oh, and a zappy thing I bought that I’ll use on that motherfucker if he gets out of line.”

“Perfect,” I nod, vision blurry with my own tears.

Pepper spray. Zappy thing. God, I love my bestie.

I take a breath, fanning my face as I blink the wetness away and then I swipe at my eyes with my sleeves before I pull out of the parking space and head for the airport.

“Babble to me,” I request. “Tell me about you, your job, your family, love life, the rest of our friends. Go.”

“Okay, but first, you need to take care of those raccoon eyes.” She passes me a Kleenex and it makes me laugh. Loud.

I can’t remember the last time I laughed loud.

Our eyes meet and she’s not laughing.

***

As it turns out, an airline will apparently not tell you if someone boarded their flight. Even if you sit there for two hours after said flight supposedly arrived.

Two hours after Ray’s flight landed, me and Susanna went back to my apartment, sans Ray.

It is just like him to delay my breaking up with him when I finally feel like I have the ability (and backup) to do it.

I call the number he’d sent the last text from, but it goes directly to an automated voicemail box that hasn’t been set up. He hadn’t even told me what hotel he was staying at in Atlantic City.

I text:

It’s Violet. Did your flight change? I waited at the airport for you. Can you please call me?

“The big question,” I say, after putting my phone down, “is do I call Killian Coulter and ask him about Ray, or do I do nothing?”

I’ve already filled her in on the basics about Killian while we waited at the airport and she told me his name was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Now, on my second glass of wine, her third, I’ve given her some of the story about my life the past two years. It’s hard to put what I’ve been through into words.

How do you explain that you allowed someone to systematically tear you down until you felt nothing like yourself?

How do you adequately explain how it feels to just try to be invisible because it feels like the best defense you’ve got?

She didn’t seem like she understood when I told her one day I’m defending him and believing in him and then I find myself walking on tiptoes through a minefield trying my best to not get myself blown up.

And when I say things about the little threats, the bigger threats, she has an answer for it all. I should’ve called the cops, my parents, her. So what if he posts those nudes online. So what if things get hard for a bit until they can get better. It’d be worth it.

She’s right, of course, but I’ve felt hopeless. I’ve felt like I have had nowhere to go, no one to turn to because I’d defended him to everyone around me to the point that I’d felt I became alienated with all of them until I found myself pulling away even as I started to realize that they were right. And how stupid and worthless I began to feel. How angry at myself for allowing myself to become this version of me. And she hits the nail on the head when she tells me I let him win, I let him do to me precisely what he wanted me to do – be too afraid to leave.

When I told her it took a whole lot of courage to call her the day before, how I got the stress-poops before I did it, she didn’t get that. She didn’t understand why I let it go on so long, why I didn’t call her a long time ago for help.

I guess I didn’t fully get it either, except to say that having a week away from him and having it get to where it did two nights before he left, where he was so unglued that I absolutely feared for my life probably snapped me into action. I feared he was circling the drain and was going to pull me down with him.

“He was so desperate I could see it turning into a murder suicide, Suse, and I knew I had to make it fucking stop. If Killian hadn’t gotten here when he did… I don’t know what would’ve happened. I’m sure there was about to be another major blowup because I wasn’t coming in with answers to his problems.”

She downs the rest of her drink and pours another.

I give her the best example I can think of, in describing what happened that night before he left, how he blamed me, spazzed out on me, threw himself into my lap into tears. She tries, but I know she doesn’t fully get it. I can’t really blame her. It wasn’t an overnight thing; it was progressive. I’d been gaslit, broken, I’d become weak, afraid, and essentially a shadow of my former self.

“In the beginning, when reality started to sink in, I thought he needed mental help. I thought maybe with counseling or medication, things could be better. He wouldn’t listen. He would blow up so bad that I stopped making those suggestions. I started making excuses to myself for him, too. He’s in a bad mood but it’ll get better when he gets back to work, if I get an advance, by next payday when things aren’t so tight, or whatever. I was just making excuses. And then when he broke my grandmother’s doll, and the threats weren’t so subtle…”

At that, she downs almost half of her new glass of wine with a grave look on her face. She’s already heard this part.

“It doesn’t need to be repeated,” I say.

My phone rings.

“Killian Coulter. Oh God.” I stare at the screen.

“Shit,” she says, “let it go to voicemail and see what he says.”

That’s what I do.

I wait for the voicemail alert sound and then play it on speaker.

“Hi Violet, it’s Killian Coulter. Can you ask Raymond to call me immediately, please? Thank you. Sorry to disturb your evening.”

It begins to ring again.

“Killian again,” I say. “Shit. Should I answer?”

“Do it, maybe he’ll know what’s happening. Maybe he’s just found out Ray got hit by a bus.” She shrugs and pours more wine into my glass.

I stare at my ringing phone.

Susanna reaches over and taps the screen with a long metallic purple tipped finger, putting Killian on speaker.

Eek.

She jerks her chin up reassuringly.

“Hello?” I greet, shooting her a look of panic.

“Violet?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just missed your call. I was about to call you back. Ray’s not here.”

“I was calling back to leave an additional message, but now that I have you, do you know when he’s coming? He didn’t take the shuttle my assistant arranged for him. In fact, didn’t even check out of the hotel. His things were just gone.”

“That’s the thing; I don’t know. I went to the airport tonight to pick him up as he told me he’d be back tonight, and they won’t tell me anything, but that flight came and went and…”

“No Raymond?”

“No. No Ray.”

“You drove there to pick him up,” he states.

“Yeah.”

“When was the last time you heard from him?” he asks.

“He texted me the other day to tell me about his flight plans and asked me to be there.”

“How did he sound last time you talked to him?”

“I haven’t talked to him.”

“You haven’t?”

“No.”

“Since when?”

“Since I dropped him off at the airport a week ago. I only got the one text the other day. Tuesday, I think.”

The phone goes eerily quiet for a beat before he speaks again.

“If he turns up, I need to speak with him immediately. If he doesn’t make efforts to call me, would you please let me know he’s there? Can you do that for me?”

“Um… yes.”

“Even if he tells you he’ll call me later, can you send me a quick text just telling me he’s back?” His voice is filled with urgency. “It’s important.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“I’d rather not discuss that. I don’t want to involve you,” he says.

I struggle to swallow.

“Can you do that for me, Violet?”

“I can do that, Killian,” I say.

“Good girl. If I hear otherwise, I’ll call or text you back.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Violet. Take care.”

He ends the call.

I gulp back some wine and then stare at a wide-eyed Susanna.

“He sounds sexy,” she announces as she opens the third bottle of wine.

***

I had my Friday spa day, with a facial, waxing, manicure, pedicure, and a massage and I felt almost like a million bucks when I got home.  Almost like my old self.

I was shy of the million-dollar feeling, though, because of the unknown with Ray.

Susanna stayed with me, and I heard nothing from Ray. Not a thing.

I also hadn’t heard from Killian.

We got drunk again Friday night on pina coladas and laughed until we cried – not talking about Ray at all, not doing anything but being us. It was like medicine for me.

We fell asleep, both of us, in my bed.

Saturday, we did a whole lot of nothing – which was everything I needed. We watched movies and ate junk food and she filled me in on some of the love life disasters she’d experienced in the past year and a half. I was not looking forward to single life and dating again, that was for sure. When I told her I had no plans to date anyone for a while, she waved her hand at me and told me I was a) ridiculous and b) should get out there immediately and make up for lost time.

Sunday afternoon, we went to Susanna’s mom’s house and she made dinner for us and treated me like her long-lost other daughter.

She seemed to know a bit about what’d gone on. She didn’t say anything, but her gentle extra-maternal attitude with me let me know she knew. Suse had been on the phone with her when I got out of the shower that morning, so I suspected Lorena had been filled in then. She and Suse have always been super-close, and seeing her giggle on the phone with her mom makes me miss mine.

I need to make things right with my folks.

I call my mom Sunday night and ask if I can come by on Tuesday after work.

“Oh. Why?” Mom inquires. “Do you want to come for dinner?”

“Dinner would be great, Mom.”

“I’ll make breaded chicken and twice baked potatoes.”

“Perfect, Mom. That sounds great.”

“You and him or…”

“Just me.”

Him. She always said ‘him’ or ‘he’ with disdain. She never said his name anymore.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you around…” she lets the question hang.

“Five thirty?”

“Good. I’ll see you then. Love you,” she says.

“Love you, Mom.”

Ray and I had gone there two months earlier for a dinner for my younger brother, Cody’s birthday and it was beyond tense. We didn’t stay too long, and I knew my parents were disappointed. That was the first event he’d gone to since the Christmas before, and when I’d tried to go without him, he insisted on coming with me.

The last visit I’d been at alone for a Sunday dinner with some aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandfather - my mom was impatient with me. Dad barely talked to me. I knew they didn’t know what to say anymore because I was so withdrawn from them when they asked me about my life.

I need to make things right. I need to repair my relationships and I need to repair myself.

***

Tuesday Night

Dinner with my parents was refreshing, though strange, because there was an elephant in the room. I tried to be chipper. I felt good, or as good as could be expected. I was anxious for the impending doom feeling to go away but how could it when I had no idea where Ray was or when he might be back?

I knew better than to hope he was just magically gone.

All I knew was that I wanted my life back, the one I had before Ray, and part of that was my family.

Mom and Dad were both warmer with me, better than the last time I’d seen them, though there was that elephant… and my brother was his usual self – a screen-absorbed teenager. But he was also happy to see me and actually affectionate, which was something I teased about because he used to be my Cody Cuddlebug and the last few years he was too cool to cuddle.

Susanna is still staying at the apartment with me; we got my super to change the locks and I gave her a key. She lives in a rented house with two other girls and one of them is most likely moving in with her boyfriend soon,  so we’ve discussed the potential of me moving in if that happens. I’m not sure about that. I’m feeling like I might need to be alone for a bit, but she insists that being alone is the last thing I need. We’ll see.

Tonight, she’s out at a work function while I’m at my parents’ and we should get back to my place at around the same time.

I told them about my raise at work, talked about my car with Dad – who owns a garage and likes to school me on maintenance, and I know I’m overdue. He tells me to bring it into his shop for a free tune-up.

Ray’s name doesn’t come up until the end of the night where Mom insists on sending leftovers home with me. We’re in the kitchen and she’s boxing stuff up and adding other stuff from her pantry – like she always does.

“Is anything else new, Violet?”

“Not yet, but…” I bite my lip. I didn’t want to get into this. I already decided not to say anything yet to my parents about Ray. I’d wait until it was over.

“But something’s going to happen?” she asks, hopefully.

I nod. “I mean, I already told you it’s going well at work, but yeah, I’m working on other areas of my…life.”

She looks me in the eyes. “We’re here for you. If you need your old room, it’s yours for as long as you need it. I can move my scrapbooking and sewing stuff to the attic.”

I open my mouth, and nothing comes out.

I’m like a deer in the headlights.

“You don’t have to say anything, Violet. I’m here when you’re ready to talk though. It’s obvious something is happening with you and him. And it’s about time we got our girl back. I’m going to put this roasting pan back in the basement. I’ll be right back.”

How does she know? Susanna?

I’m lost in thought when she gets back to the kitchen.

“I can see your brain working; Lorena called me. We still talk occasionally. She didn’t say much, but told me you were on your way back to us.” She brightens. “You need anything at all, you tell me. No judgement, Violet. Or I’ll try not to be judgmental, but it might be hard, because we love you and we’re all really worried.”

Talk about being thrown for a loop.

She turns away, trying to hide the emotion on her face and is obviously giving me a chance to hide mine.

I can’t be angry with Susanna or her mom here. In fact, Lorena made it easier on me to open communication with my parents.

“But one of these days,” Mom adds, “I want you to tell me everything. Don’t hold onto everything, Violet. Sometimes, you got to lean on other people, and it might just be as simple as letting them be a shoulder.”

I nod. That’s all I can do if I want to avoid bursting into tears and upsetting my parents. I excuse myself so I can go to the bathroom and gain some composure.

No, I’m far from being back to my old self, but dinner with my parents and spending time with my bestie has me feeling like I’m at least on the right road.

***

Each apartment in my building has two assigned parking spots and Susanna has been using my spare. Most days we carpool together in my car in case Ray shows back up and tries to take it. She took her own wheels today, though, knowing we had differing plans tonight.

Since her car isn’t here now that I’m back from my folks’, I text her.

Me: You gonna be back soon?

Susanna:  Sry. Things are running late. Hopefully this wraps up soon. You home? Don’t go up.

Me: Just got here. Maybe I should go for a coffee.

Susanna: Do that. Don’t go up alone.

I’m about to pull away when I get another text from her.

Susanna: Actually, looks like I’m leaving in about 5 mins.

Me: Maybe I’ll just sit here for ten and then go up.

Susanna: Wait for me.

Ten minutes passes and I am dying to go pee, so I look at my windows and make a judgement call.

Me: Heading up. Need to pee.  Badly.

Susanna: Almost there. Be safe. The zapper and spray are under the sofa cushion.

Me: got it.

I can see my apartment from the parking lot. The lights are off, and my bedroom drapes are still open – showing me he’s not in there hiding behind a comforter to black the room out. She’ll be back soon, and I don’t want to pee my pants, so I decide to go up.

10

Violet

I open the door to a pitch-dark apartment. I left the light on over the stove that morning, but even that isn’t on and that’s the first sign that things aren’t right. Before I close the door, I reach for my phone in my purse and stuff it into my cardigan pocket. I turn the light on while simultaneously having the distinct feeling that he’s here.

I’m correct.

Shit.

“Turn it off,” he snaps, from his position on the couch.

I do and being in the dark has my heart racing.

Shit. I should’ve waited for Susanna before coming in. I should’ve refused to shut the light off. How brainwashed am I?

“What’s happening?”

“Lock and chain it, babe. Quick.”

I jiggle the chain, but don’t put it on. I also don’t lock the door. I changed the locks. How did he get in? “You’re freaking me out,” I call out.

“Who’s fuckin’ stayin’ here with you?” he snaps in a whisper.

“Susanna.”

“Susanna?” There’s a disgusted sound in his voice. ”Anybody come around looking for me? Henny? Killian?” he asks.

“No. Was the trip not good? I tried to pick you up and – can we turn on a light? I can’t even see you."

“Why didn’t my key work, Vi? I had to break in.”

I hear shuffling and stay plastered against the door, feeling him breeze by me. I should go. I should just leave. Before I get the chance, light floods the hall. He’s turned the lamp on in the bedroom. I walk down the short hall and stay in the doorway, hoping he won’t notice that I didn’t put the chain across the apartment door.

He’s shutting my drapes.

“We um… I had the super change the locks.”

“Why’s Susanna’s stuff here, Violet?” He looks at me like he smells something foul.

For some reason, I lie. “She needed a place to stay for a few days, so…”

“Can’t believe you’d give that skank the time of day. Didn’t even think you were still talkin’ to her.”

Skank? I feel my hackles rise. This was a good sign. If I have hackles rising, I’m not feeling meek. Just the sight of him makes my stomach go sour, but I’m not feeling meek. She’ll be here soon, and I know I have to dig deep and find strength to get off this merry-go-round with him.

“What’s happening?” I lean against the doorframe. “Why weren’t you back Thursday?”

I should just rip the Band-aid off now, but I’m stalling.

“I’ll explain on the road.”

“On the road? On what roa –?”

“We gotta leave town,” he interrupts me.  “Get a bag together, any money you have, and we gotta go.”

“What?” My world goes topsy turvy.

“Babe, please. Stop askin’ me questions, just listen… pack a bag, grab some cash, and…”

“I have no cash, Ray,” I lie. “And I can’t leave. What’s happening?”

He throws his arms up in the air and verbally explodes.

“Get a fuckin’ bag together, Vi. Fuckin’ listen to me. I’m telling you we have to go!”

“No,” I state, looking at him coldly, not letting his shouting make me cower.

It’s just words. It’s just loud words. He’s nothing to me. He’s nobody. Just a guy yelling at me.

I straighten as tall as I can get. “You can go. I’m not going anywhere.”

He glares for a second and then starts talking fast. “I fucked up! Yeah. Again. A-fuckin-gain, Vi.” He shakes his head and puts the heels of his hands over his eyes, exhaling a big sigh as he sits on the bed. “I don’t… I don’t know how to get out of it this time, Vi. I really…” His shoulders shake.

He’s crying. He’s also blatantly refusing the signs that are right in front of him. Susanna is here. The locks are changed. I’ve just told him I’m not going with him.

I need away from him. I need Susanna to hurry.

“Give me one sec, I’ve had to pee really bad since I left my parents place.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Just a family dinner, one sec.”

He stands up as I back up. I head into the bathroom, heart pounding in my chest as I shut that door and immediately fetch my phone from my pocket.

While I’m on the toilet, I quickly text Killian and Susanna the exact same message.

Killian, he’s here. I just got home & he’s here and crying and saying he fucked up and wants us to leave town. He doesn’t know I’m messaging you or that you are looking for him. CCing Susanna, my bff. Hurry and get here ASAP Susanna! Need u”

Killian replies immediately.

Killian: Where are you? Still in your apt?

Me: Yes, in the bathroom. He’s in a bad way. He’s making me nervous.

My fingers are trembling.

Susanna: OMW. Pulling up in 2. Pepper spray. Stun gun!

Killian: I’ll be there soon. Sending someone to help who will be there in 5 or less.

I lollygag as best as I can in there but two or three minutes later hear Ray calling my name.

I flush the toilet and wash my hands. I take a big breath, staring at my reflection.

Killian is sending someone. Who and why, I don’t know but don’t have the presence of mind to ponder it for long. My mind is all over the place. But Susanna is on her way. I just have to get through the next few minutes.

I wish I’d left the apartment and texted them from the elevator. I should’ve gotten into my car and left.

But this is my place. My home, not his.

I erase the text string, take a big breath, straighten up, and step out.

He’s in the hallway in front of the door. His eyes are on me and angry, arms folded across his chest.

“You wanna explain to me why my clothes aren’t in the bedroom?”

I blow out a breath.

He advances and I back up into the bathroom again. He continues to advance, anger in his eyes and I nearly fall into the bathtub backing up.

“I wanted to talk to you about that when you got back, about the fact that I think we should split –”

“No!” he shouts in my face. “No. Fuck, no. You changed the locks, to keep me out? Please tell me there’s another explanation for why the key doesn’t work and that cunt is staying here.”

“Cunt?”

God, I’m too far from the stun gun and the kitchen knives and the pepper spray and I have a really, really bad feeling about this. I also want to punch him out for calling Susanna a c-word.

“How dare you call her that!”

“You’re. My. Life. God damn it.” He rubs his eyes. His hands are trembling. “I came back for you. It was a huge risk to come back here, but I did it for you. We gotta get the fuck outta Dodge and we’re gonna start over. It’s gonna be good, babe, I have a plan. Just gimme this chance to start fresh, and –”

I feel the sourness rise. I have trouble even finding words. Do I tell him he’s made my love shrivel to nothing; he’s made me feel like I’m nothing? Do I even need to say how hopeless I’ve been feeling, how he made me not only stop loving him, but he also made me have trouble even loving myself?

I shake my head and sit on the edge of the tub.

“I come home to this?” He looks at me like he doesn’t know me. “I come home to my shit packed? I can’t believe you’re givin’ up on me. You promised.”

“Honestly, Ray, I gave up months ago. And you made promises too. You broke yours way before I broke mine.”

His expression drops and he looks devastated. Maybe he’s actually listening to me for once.

I continue. “I figured you had this great new job and it’d be a good time for us to split because you had all these opportunities and all we do is fight, and…”

“All we do is fight?” He’s looking at me like I’m nuts. “What planet are you on, Violet?”

What planet is he on?

“Well, you fight. You yell and shout and I… I just cower. I haven’t been happy for a long time, Ray.”

“I do not fucking believe this shit. I was just out there trying to make a better life for us, Violet.”

“So, what happened then?” I ask, feeling brave. There’s noise in the hallway. I straighten up. “What went wrong this time, Ray?”

“Shh.” He gives me a death stare and slices his index finger across his throat in warning.

“Ray, you need to go, please.” I’m intentionally loud. “We’re broken up. I broke up with you months ago and you refused to go. I’m done. Please. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

He looks panicked as he lunges at me. There’s loud knocking at the door as he covers my mouth with his hand.

“Shh. Shut it,” he mouths and leans forward aggressively meaning we both topple into the tub and the shower curtain rod tumbles down, bringing all the metal shower curtain rings down a few at a time, hitting the floor and the side of the tub with a racket.

His hand is too tight across my mouth. I struggle but he’s on me and I can’t move.

Ow. My back and shoulder are screaming.

“Fuck!” Ray cusses under his breath, face going enraged as I hear what sounds like the front door flying open and hitting the wall.

I then hear a crash sound as a young guy I’ve never seen in my life hauls Ray off me and throws him.

Throws him!

Ray is six feet tall and not a scrawny guy at all, but this other guy just threw him! Ray lands on his ass on the floor.

The stranger’s eyes are filled with concern. He’s young. Younger than me, for sure. Is he a new neighbor? His arms are like tree trunks.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Willie?”  Ray asks.

Willie? Who is this?

“Stand back, fucker,” the guy warns and then looks to me. “I’m Will Coulter. Kill’s brother. Here. Let me help you up.” He reaches for me, but Ray tries to leave so he abandons that plan, twists, and reaches out, catching Ray by the scruff of the neck, halting him.

Ray shoves Will, but the guy does not budge. “Sit your clown-ass down,” Will orders. “Kill’s coming, fucker. Sorry for the language, Violet. This guy though…”

I hear Ray protest. “Willie, fuck. Lemme go!” Ray swings a fist, but Will ducks.

“I’m here.” I hear Killian’s voice in the hall and then he peers into the bathroom and his eyes sweep over me. I’m still in the bathtub with half a shower curtain draped over me.

“Kill…” Ray starts. “Brah…”

“Sit the fuck down,” Killian growls coldly.

Killian leans over and carefully lifts me out of the tub. He carries me out. I’m zombie-like, feeling like I’m watching a movie as I’m carried to the dining room table and set on top of it.

“You okay?” He looks at me and does what looks like a visual survey to ascertain if I’m in one piece or not.

I nod.

“You sure?”

He cups my jaw and stares right into my eyes.

My voice fails me, so I nod again, though my chin trembles.

“Stay here, Violet, please. Will, hit the road - I’ll call you later.”

“Yeah man,” Will says and shoots a scathing look at Ray who is standing by the front door, looking like he wants to run. “See you’re still a piece of shit,” Will says.

Ray stares at the floor.

Killian hauls him into the room by the scruff and deposits him on my couch. Not gently.

Ray isn’t fighting now. Ray puts his head in his hands, and he looks defeated.

“You’re okay, Violet?” Killian checks.

I nod shakily, so his eyes move to Ray.

“So… Raymond…”

“Kill, brother… ”

Killian laughs a little and folds his arms across his chest and then scratches his left eyebrow with his right thumbnail. “Let me guess. You can explain.”

“Man, I’m sorry.”

“So, you disappear for a week after you run up over seventeen thousand dollars on my credit card and you have the nerve to call me brother?”

“Seventeen?”  Ray asks. “It was all expenses paid, man.”

“Yeah, and your expenses should’ve amounted to about $3800.00, based on the generous daily meal and transportation allowance on top of your gambling expenses. That said, you owe me about thirteen, five. I said I’d pay you 8 large for taking the trip, this means you owe me $5500.00 plus for the overage.”

“And I’ll get you paid back as soon as I can. Things went wonky, man. I can explain.”

Killian looks at him icily. “You planned to explain? Why did you take off instead?”

“I did. I do.”

“When? When were you planning on doin’ that?”

“I got home a half an hour ago, Kill. I needed to see Violet, and then…”

Ray stops talking. He swallows.

Killian speaks instead. “So, $5500, plus the sixty three hundred you owed Henny. I covered that for you, by the way, as a favor. This means you owe me eleven, eight. To show you I’m a nice guy, I’ll forego the juice if you pay within… say… seven days. If not, extra 20 percent.”

“Henny?” Ray asks, going sheet-white.

“Yeah. See, I could’ve filled you in on that favor I did you, but you’ve been dodgin’ me. And Henny.”

Ray blows out a breath.

“And we’ve only had -a couple reports from you, so really, you didn’t do the job you were being paid to do, meaning I could technically claw more of those expenses back, pro-rated. But I’m sure you read your contract, so you already know all this.”

“Kill,” Ray moans, shaking his head.

“What’re you doin’ here, Ray? You come back to get your girl and fuck off on your debts? Fuck me over?”

“No man, no. She’s gonna cash in her stocks and sell her car and then I’ll have more than enough for you. I was just comin’ to see her and talk to her ‘n then I was gonna come see you. I literally just got back. Shit went south. I can explain, but I’ll wanna do that privately.” Ray jerks his head at me and gives Killian a grave expression.

Killian faces me and looks me over. “You doin’ that Violet? Selling stuff to cover his debts? Be honest with me right here and right now without worrying about consequences from this fuck. He’s not going to touch you in retaliation for telling me the truth.”

“I don’t have –” I start to say.

“Violet!” Ray jumps to his feet and his eyes are on me pleadingly.

“Sit the fuck down,” Killian barks and Ray immediately sits.

“Tell him, Vi,” Ray pleads. “Tell him how we’ll have it in just a couple days. Couple days, max, brother. She’s got stocks and –”

“I –” I start, but Killian cuts me off by gently catching my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze while shaking his head.

I stop talking.

“You don’t have to say anything else, Violet. I can see what the situation is here.” He looks to Ray and doesn’t let go of my hand.

“What if there’s another way you can pay me?” Killian asks.

“How?” Ray asks.

Killian gives me a lingering stare while Ray waits and then Killian smiles and then lifts my hand to his mouth. My heart stops as Killian drops a kiss on my knuckle. “Let me spend the night with your fiancée.”

I blink. Hard. What?

Ray blinks, too and then looks at me and lets out a heavy sigh.

Killian lets go of me and immediately backhands him, slaps him hard enough to knock him over. Ray is now on his knees between my couch and coffee table.

“Fuck that. You piece of fuckin’ shit. I wasn’t serious, Violet.”

I sit there, shellshocked.

“Would you have said yes, Violet?” Killian asks me.

I shake my head.

“Didn’t think so.”

Ray winces. “I wasn’t gonna say yes. I wasn’t–”

Killian raises his hand across his chest again like he’s about to deliver another blow and Ray braces.

Killian doesn’t follow through with the motion. He relaxes his posture and shrugs.

“You’re a piece of shit, Raymond. I’m convinced this beautiful girl here is in mortal danger right now in your company. That’s it. You’re coming with me,” Killian announces, and I’m thinking Ray’s about to go with him.

But I’m about to find out I’m very wrong.

“I’ve decided Violet is the marker,” Killian says. “Ray, you pay me what you owe me, we talk about you getting her back.”

Ray’s mouth drops and his blue eyes stare at me. They’re filled with panic, I think.

“You don’t look at her. Eyes to the floor, the wall, I don’t care. Don’t look at her.  Pack a bag, Violet. Everything you’ll need for a week, no, two. Ray, you call me when you have my money. It goes longer than two weeks, I come find you and you find out the consequences.”

The door opens behind Killian. He looks over his shoulder.

“Susanna,” I breathe from my perch on the table, seeing her come into the apartment.

She surveys the happenings.

What took her so long?

“Meanwhile,” Killian continues, glancing at Susanna briefly but then finishing off with, “Violet’s off limits. No calls to her at work, no visits anywhere. The next two weeks, you forget any notion Violet’s yours. The next two weeks, she’s mine.” He holds a hand out to Susanna. “Killian,” Killian says. “But I already know you. Where from?”

She looks at him with interest and a half a smile before her eyes move to me and she nods, knowingly.

I stare in confusion.

“I’m Susanna Gagne. Yeah, you know me. I’m a teller at your bank. I’m also Violet’s bestie for the past twelve years until the last two when this bastard tried to get in the middle of that. Hey there Deathray,” she says snidely. “How not nice to see you.”

Killian’s brows rise. As do mine.

“What’s up?” she asks, eyeing me.

I blow out a shaky breath. “Uh…”

“What’s up,” Killian answers, “is that Raymond owes me a significant amount of money that he’s said he’s going to pay. For now, Violet comes with me as a surety. She’ll be perfectly safe at my place while he pulls that money he assured me he can get together. This is fine with you, right, Violet?”

“But she has a job,” Susanna says, studying him.

Killian shrugs. “She can go to work.”

“But she’s got me,” she tells him. “And this bastard kept her from me the past two years,” Susanna tacks on, “So I’m not backing off when my girl needs me.”

Killian smiles. “She can see you as much as she wants.”

Susanna purses her lips thoughtfully. “You got a nice pad? My bestie needs to stay someplace nice.”

I stare at her with shock.

“I do,” he replies. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“All right. Sounds good to me. I’ll grab my bag and head home. Text me tomorrow, bestie.”

I’m flabbergasted. And speechless.

“Call me, yeah?” she prompts.

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice a raspy croak.

She hugs me and gives me a squeeze and a look that says,  we’ve got this.

“Ray?” Susanna leans forward. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too, cunt,” he says, glaring.

“Eyes to the floor, Iadanza and you do not fuck with Susanna either. Susanna, message Violet later tonight. She’ll give you my number. He fucks with you, you tell me.”

“You got it,” Susanna points at him with a smile and then she sashays to the couch beside Ray and lifts the cushion while Ray and Killian both watch. She lifts and then points her zapper at him and says, “Wish you’d have given me a reason.”

“Do it,” Killian tells her.

She smirks. “Yeah?”

“Be my guest,” Killian invites, gesturing toward Ray, as if we’re his guests and not in my living room. “After what he just called you, seems to me he’s given you a reason.”

I twist the other way, unable to watch as I hear the crackle sound of my bestie zapping him, then the thud with Ray making a howling sound.

Susanna steps into my periphery. “Call you later,” she winks. “Love you.” She leans over and drops a kiss on my cheek while squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. Her eyes are dancing.

I stare in shock as she goes, trying really hard to not look at Ray who’s on the floor, making a horrible sound of pain.

“Get your things, Violet,” Killian instructs. “Whatever is most important to you and what you’ll need for the next two weeks.”

I blink stupidly. I want to speak up and say that if he could simply ask Ray to leave it’d solve all my problems and I’d be forever grateful, because I was trying to break up with him prior to Killian coming, but for some reason, I can’t find a single word.

He approaches me, then lifts me off the table by my hips and gently sets me down on my feet.

I stare up into his green eyes. His expression is serious. Very. He fingers a curl beside my temple and looks deep into my eyes. “I can’t stand here much longer fighting the urge to do bodily harm to him so help me out by hurrying, okay?”

“Okay,” I mouth and then hurry toward my bedroom to start packing, not sparing Ray a glance on my way there.

***

Killian stares at the two big trash bags I’ve dragged into the hall and gives me an inquisitive look.

“He took my suitcase to Atlantic City and I don’t know where it is.”

I’ve been in a daze while I threw most of my clothes and shoes into the bags.

He flexes his jaw and glares at Ray. “You lose her suitcase?”

“Yeah,” Ray says, staring at the floor.

“I need my bathroom stuff.”

“Go ahead,” Killian jerks his chin.

I hurry into the bathroom and start filling a duffle bag with my bathroom stuff, then carry it out with my purse and stop dead, spine tingling. I drop my bags before heading to the kitchen where I open a drawer and fetch that pawn ticket for my jewelry. My hands are shaking as I lift it from the drawer.

Killian tracks me this whole time. I feel his eyes on me. I’m about to slip it into my purse when he reaches out a hand.

“Let me see?”

I bite my lip and he gently takes it from me. As he studies it, his eyes move to Ray and then back to me inquisitively before he hands it back. I stuff it in my purse.

“Uh, Killian?” I call out.

His eyes come back to me.

“Is this … me going with you… really necessary? I mean, I can…”

Ray looks up at me with hope.

My eyes meet his and I look away quickly.

“Eyes to the fucking floor,” Killian snaps at him and then the anger melts away when his eyes bounce back to me. “Yeah, baby. It is.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just say, “Oh.”

“Take that bag and your purse and wait in my car.” Killian hands me his keys. “I’ll bring your other things.”

I stare at the keys.

“Don’t worry,” he adds.

“You’re not gonna hurt him, are you?” I whisper.

“Not right now,” he says, coldly.

“Violet,” Ray croaks out from the floor where he sits between the coffee table and the couch.  “I love you. I’m gonna fix this. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Killian shouts.  “Eyes off her, Ass-wipe. I told you, the next two weeks, she’s not yours. She’s mine. Take your eyes off what’s mine before I put a bullet in your forehead.”

Ray closes his eyes and stares at the floor, looking defeated.

I rush out of the apartment and woodenly press the elevator button.

And then I’m blinking at the steel doors, listening to the elevator coming up to get me. Coming up to take me away from Ray for the next two weeks. Is this real? Did that just happen?

11

Killian

“I mean it. You stay away from her. You spend your focus coming up with that money. Do not piss me off further, Iadanza.”

“I’ll find it,” he promises. “I’m sorry, man. I shoulda told you that gig wasn’t a good fit for me. The devil on my shoulder, Kill…”

“It’s your devil, not mine, so not my problem,” I say and lift the bags filled with Violet’s clothes. “Two weeks max - you show up with my money including the juice, no excuses.”

He stares but it’s not blankly. His eyes are active and the vibe coming off him is not good.

I jerk up my chin. “What?”

“What if I can’t. You’d hurt her?”

His eyes are wild with fear.  And I want to punch the fucker out. Piece of shit.  “You love this girl?”

“I really do, man. Don’t fuckin’ hurt her, please. Please, Kill,” he cries.

Stupid, weak fuck.

“You think I’d hurt a sweet, beautiful girl like that?” I ask.

He looks away and sniffles like a snot-nose kid.

“You think I would,” I state.

“I know we go way back, but just… please … don’t. She’s a good girl. It’s not her fault I’m …” he trails off.

“A loser?”

He flinches.

“Yeah, I can tell she’s too good for you, that’s pretty fuckin’ obvious.”

He nods. “She is. Way too good for me. But she loves me in spite of it.”

Self-deprecation isn’t a redeeming quality in my eyes. I had no respect for this little fuck coming into this and now he’s sunk even lower in my estimation.

“I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do with a girl like that,” I muse and then smile. “Hurtin’ her ain’t top of the list. What if I fuck her? How you gonna feel about that?”

His face twists with agony. “Don’t.” His mouth contorts.

“Tell you what. We’ll talk soon. You let me know how things’re goin’ with your efforts to get me my money. Maybe I’ll knock off a few bucks every time I fuck her. Believe me, though, you come near her before you have my permission, or fuck with her friend, her job, or anyone or anything she cares about, I’ll fuck with you.”

He puts his head down.

“You flexed with me three years ago that she gave world class head, right?”

His shoulders slump further, and he shuts his eyes, pain slashing across his features.

“So she does? I bet she does. Maybe that’s one thing outta your mouth that hasn’t been bullshit. And if she’s as sweet a lay as you say, maybe I’ll keep her. Chances are, you’re not coming up with that cash, right?”

He glares at me and his back goes straight.

Maybe he has some balls left after all.

“You’ll get your money, Kill.”

I snicker. “I’m not a piece of shit, man. The only way I’ll lay my hands, tongue, or cock on that girl is if she wants me to. You bring my money the day it’s due, though, or you won’t like what happens.”

His expression drops and I do my coat up.

“Two weeks max, Raymond.”

I smirk as I get into the elevator.

Stupid fuck. He walked directly into every single trap I’d set.

I get to the car and there she is, sitting there in the passenger seat waiting for me. She didn’t run. The thought crossed my mind, but I had the feeling she’d be here.

Her friend stands beside my car, talking to her through the passenger window. I’m not surprised the friend waited.

The friend looks at me. “Take care of her.”

I give her a wink and watch her get into her car with a smirk on her face. She’s happy that Violet is coming with me. More than happy.

I’ve had a few small talk conversations with that bank teller. She’s flirted with me in the past. She’s an attractive girl, but call me crazy; it’s one of my rules to never take any flirting seriously when the one doing it sees my bank balance on her computer.

Would I have considered asking Susanna Gagne out under different circumstances? Definitely. Right now, there’s one woman on my mind, and that’s the girl I feel like I put in peril three years ago. Now that I’ve extracted her from his bullshit, it’ll be interesting to see what move he makes next.

If he’s smart, he’ll fuck off.

Sadly, Raymond Iadanza was never very smart.

I could plainly see on the morning I drove her to work that she wanted out of the relationship. I can’t read her expression right now, though.

“Pop the trunk,” I tell Violet and she leans over and hits the button on my key fob.

I put her stuff in my trunk and see that her other bag is in my back seat.

“It’s cold. Why didn’t you turn the heat on?”

She shrugs. She’s chewing her lip and looking at me with huge eyes. She doesn’t know what to make of me and all that just happened.

As we pull out, it’s obvious by her body language that she’s fretting.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask.

She shakes her head, curls bouncing. And I find it cute, but I don’t like the look of anxiety on her face.

“You can be honest with me. What’s on your mind, Violet?”

“Um, lots,” she whispers, clawing at her neck with her fingernails. I’ve seen her do this before, it’s obviously her tell about being stressed.

“Gimme the rundown.” We’re stopped at a light, so I twist slightly and my eyes move over her. She’s trembling. She’s got her eyes pointed straight ahead and she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. And the trembling? It makes me wanna rip our seatbelts off and haul her onto my lap and hold her tight, so she’ll stop, so she’ll know she doesn’t have to worry.

I let the strangeness of that thought penetrate for a minute and then shake it off because it’s a weird sensation for me.

“Violet,” I bite off, and she jolts.

I didn’t intend to come across angry, I’m just reacting to the visual I just got.

She moistens her lips with her tongue, then replies. “My… car. He’ll probably try to sell it. He has a spare key for it.”

The light turns green and so I advance and then pull over as soon as there’s an opportunity. I pull my phone out of my pocket and order my assistant to get her car towed, rattling off Violet’s address and the make and color of the car. I ask Violet the license plate and Alana tells me she heard it.

“Put it in spot four in my section of the garage,”  I instruct before I say goodbye to Alana and look back to Violet.

“You got keys with you for when it gets to my place?” I ask.

She nods while fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

“Good. I’ll get you a fob for the garage and that’ll get you up in the elevator to my floor. I’ll get keys cut for my condo tomorrow for you. I don’t have a spare set right now.”

This reminds me, I need my spare set of keys back from Kenya. It’s been two months and I’ve been avoiding the unpleasantness. I already disabled her access on my security system so she can’t disarm the apartment, but she can get in. I’ll have the locks changed tomorrow avoiding the possibility she decides to try.

“Okay,” Violet replies timidly.

I don’t like how timid she is with me. I need to show patience with her. She’s like a frightened rabbit.

12

Violet

“The pawn ticket,” he asks. “What is it?”

“Some jewelry.”

“You take it in to help him out of a jam?” he asks, his voice full of edginess.

I don’t know him, of course, but anyone could see his patience is in short supply. I can only imagine how annoyed he is about all of this stuff with Ray, the thousands of dollars Ray owes. Ray trying to dodge him.

And this…

This… how strange is this? It’s still penetrating. I’m a marker for Ray’s debt to Killian. I can’t let myself linger on that thought though because I’m using all my energy trying to hold myself together.

“He took it in without my permission.”

He takes a breath and nods.

“I’ll get it out for you. Add the amount to his tab. How much will it cost to get it out?”

He starts the car and holds his hand out.

“It’s not necessary to do that, Killian.”

“Give it, Violet. Please. Engagement ring in there?”

I reach into my bag and I place the ticket in his palm.

“No. I’ve never had one. Do you think I lied?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “No, baby. I don’t. My apologies.”

I try to ignore the funny feeling fluttering around in me at the endearment.

“How much?” he repeats.

“Two something,” I reply softly. “Maybe three with the storage fees.”

“Two thousand and something?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Two hundred and something.”

His nostrils flare and he bares his teeth. He is pissed on my behalf, I think.

Yeah. Pissed. Two hundred and something dollars was nothing to him, obviously, but to me – it’s something when I’m struggling because of Ray. I had planned to get it out as soon as Ray was out of the picture.

Over the years, Killian’s name has come up a lot. Ray has made references to Killian ‘disappearing’ people who cross him. He made it sound like Killian was somebody not to ever be crossed.

Of course Ray has now crossed him. And I’m the one being held as a marker.  Though, the alternative… heading out to whereabouts unknown with Ray in my car because he wanted to go on the run from his problems and drag me along with him? This might be better. Yes, climbing into a car with someone who might be dangerous? Someone who threatens to put a bullet in Ray’s head for committing the sin of looking at me? Infinitely better than being stuck with Ray. Well… so long as I find a way out of this.

Killian’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “What did my brother walk in on?”

“Oh… me and him… tangled up in the tub.”

“How’d that happen?”

I take a deep breath. “I came home, and Ray wanted me to leave town with him.”

Killian’s eyes narrow.

“I didn’t want to go, but I knew he wouldn’t like that. I went into the bathroom to text you and Susanna because I really didn’t wanna go. And he was getting – manic. Suse was staying with me to help me g-get through the breakup but she wasn’t back yet.  I changed the locks, but he was inside.”

“He’s good with lock-picking. I’ve seen him pick ‘em.”

News to me, but I don’t bother saying so.

“So, he found his clothes weren’t in my closet and the lock had been changed and he sort of tackled me to make me keep my voice down when your brother got to the door and we went tumbling into the tub.”

“He hurt you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Where are his clothes at?”

“I don’t know about what he took to Atlantic City, don’t know if he brought that stuff back, but his other stuff, I put into boxes in my coat closet the day after he left to work for you.”

“You were ending it.”

“Yeah. I was gonna – try. A-again.”

I added the again so he’d know I’d tried before. For some reason I want him to know I want no part of Ray. Haven’t for a while.

“Again,” he parrots.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

He stares at me and I’m uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Is it… uh… necessary to take me to your place?”

“It is.”

I swallow and stare out the windshield at the new red light we are stopped at.

“What if I-”

“No, Violet.”

I bite my cheek. “If you need me to pay-”

“Raymond needs to pay Raymond’s debt,” he states.

“Oh,” I whisper.

“What he did just won’t stand. I run a business where if I let people fuck me over, people will fuck me over. I’m sure you understand.”

The light turns green and we advance.

I want to ask, what if he doesn’t pay? But I don’t know if that’s a bad idea, so I don’t ask. Instead, I sit there, eyes aimed at the road.

A few minutes later we pull up to a high-rise condo and drive down a ramp into the underground parking garage.

A few minutes after that, we’re entering his penthouse apartment, him carrying the trash bags filled with clothes and shoes and me carrying my purse along with my bathroom gear duffle bag.

13

Violet

Killian’s penthouse apartment is unbelievably beautiful. If I’d been seeing it on a normal day instead of this crazy one, I would’ve had stars in my eyes.

Maybe I do despite my crazy day.

The place is massive with an incredible view. It’s a corner suite and while much of it is windows, where there are walls, they’re ivory with great architectural details. Wainscoting, chair rail, crown molding. The place has gleaming wood floors separated by area rugs bringing together different conversation and sitting areas within the space. The windows show off a stunning view of the skyline, including Fremont Bridge.

The massive kitchen faces the space with an island and gigantic range hood. It’s framed in with Greek-style columns and arches. Cabinets are all ivory wood above a gray and pink mosaic backsplash and blush pink marble countertops. I’ve never seen such pretty marble and despite the pink, this place isn’t screaming feminine. It’s screaming ‘gourmet cook’s kitchen’.

I’m gawking at the kitchen space and note he’s watching my reaction.

I blink hard. Wow.

The entire space in front of me is not only beautifully decorated, it’s warm and welcoming, too. Nice art adorns the walls and despite the biggest TV I’ve ever seen in someone’s house, it’s all very tasteful.

White sofas with patterned colorful throw pillows, glass with wood tables and lots of houseplants surround the TV area.

There’s another seating area with four club chairs and a low but large table in the center near a fireplace. In addition to that is a massive formal dining table with eight high-back ivory fabric chairs surrounding a dark wood table. Under the eight-seater dining table, the conversation area, and the sofa area are beautiful off-white area rugs with a squiggly silver pattern through them. One area has a square rug. Another a large oval one and another, a rectangle.

This place, the colors, the view, it has a great vibe. The furnishings are comfortable – this space is designed for enjoyment and comfort. Serenity blended with wealth that doesn’t say ostentatious.

A wall of wine bottles near the dining table stands out with soft lighting glowing from behind. Everything gleams. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere.

I see through the doors at the edge of the living space a huge patio. I take a couple steps toward it and stare out the window. Maybe I do have stars in my eyes after all…

“Violet,” he says from behind me and it’s very close behind me. In fact, I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck.

I shiver in reaction.

“Your home is lovely,” I say softly, turning to face him. “No. That’s not a good enough word. It’s so inviting and it’s… it’s… perfection. I would not change one single thing.”

Shit is suddenly real here. I’m in Killian Coulter’s apartment, taken as a marker for my supposed fiancé’s debts. It’s surreal.

“Thank you. I’ll show you the bedroom,” he remarks, eyes burning into me and his jaw clenching, though I don’t know why. He isn’t radiating anger… I’m not sure what he’s feeling right now. I suspect it’s the opposite, but I don’t know and even if I did, I’m not capable of doing anything other than following him on shaky legs.

Bedroom. Oh.

Oh my God. What?

He gestures to the kitchen area as we stroll past it. “There’s a hall through that door leading to the butler’s kitchen, pantry, and laundry room. My housekeeper does laundry on Mondays. I’ve got a cork board in there where I leave notes for her regarding what I’d like done. Feel free to use it.”

He puts the trash bags filled with my clothes and shoes down at the mouth of the hallway and gestures for me to follow across the gorgeous wood floors, past three doors into the master suite. Once he opens the doors, my breath is sucked out of me at the opulence and comfort. Both. Like the rest of the place, it has both.

We’re looking at a wall of windows that I see leads to that massive patio. In addition to the vast space with a huge king-size bed that’s positioned to make the most of the spectacular view is a nook bisected with a fireplace with two armchairs and a low table. On the other side of the fireplace is the entrance to the patio and to the left of that is another larger nook with a big and beautiful desk and a bookshelf filled with hardcover books. His home office. Added to that is a set of sliding doors that are open, revealing a massive walk-in closet with two leather chairs and glass doors on either side with a tallboy chest of drawers at the end. My eyes linger on the left side, which is empty, the right side is full. His and hers closets.

No hers stuff.

The master ensuite bathroom is dominated by the shower. In the corner is a step-up massive soaker tub. Finishing off the spa-like bathroom are his and her sinks with a vanity in the middle, a purple leather stool tucked underneath. The bathroom vanity has pale purple marble. Again, a touch of femininity but that wouldn’t overpower a masculine man like Killian. To me, I think this apartment was decorated for a masculine man who didn’t mind some feminine touches for the woman in his life.

My body is still trembling. Why am I in the master bedroom and why did he feel the need to show me his bathroom, too?

“Tonight, you can sleep in my bed,” he says.

I jolt in surprise.

“I’ll take my couch,” he adds. “And I’ll order a bed for you tomorrow and you can move to the room directly inside the hallway tomorrow.”

My knees wobble with relief and I sway. He steadies me by catching my shoulders.

“Are you all right, Violet?”

I nod, avoiding his eyes and trying (though failing) to ignore the sensation of his hot hands on my shoulders. He releases me and we walk out of the bathroom. I feel wobbly again, so I sit down on the tufted dove gray suede bench at the end of the bed.

He sits on the bench beside me. “Did you think I was going to sleep here too?”

I jerk in surprise and our eyes lock.

I can’t translate the intense look in his green eyes as anything but angry.

I open my mouth but before I can think of how to answer, he leans closer and his voice drops an octave.

“Bring you to my bedroom and make you fuck me?” He rasps this as his eyes burn a fiery trail straight down from my mouth to my boobs, then down to my crotch, before his eyes land on my feet and then lazily travel back up.

I can’t swallow. I’m not sure if I’m even breathing.

“First,” he tells me, moving in even closer – too close, frankly, “I wouldn’t take Ray’s debts out on you.”

I’m finally able to swallow.

“Second,” he goes on, “I’m not that guy. Believe it or not, I don’t have to force women to fuck me.”

The way he says ‘fuck me’ sounds like a command.

Oh, I believe that all right, that he could generate a line-up of willing women with a snap of his fingers, but I’m so out of my element my element doesn’t even exist here.

“I don’t know what to think. This has all been…” I shrug.

“Stressful?” he offers a word.

I nod. “Yeah. And… strange.”

“Strange?”

“Yeah. I mean, who’da thought I’d be relieved to leave with someone who threatened to put a bullet in Ray’s head for looking at me?” I gaze at him, looking for a reaction.

Was that incredibly stupid of me to say? And did he really mean the threat? Does he have a gun? Would he use it? Or was it a throwaway threat?

“Believe me, this is all strange for me, too. Okay, well, it’s late and you probably have to get up early again tomorrow.”

He stands.

I stare.

This means the evening is over and I still have no idea what all this means.

Instead of asking the obvious question… about what’d happen when Ray isn’t able to come up with his money, I say, “I should hang some of my things up so they’re not wrinkled for work in the morning.”

“Follow me and you can get your clothes put away in the closet in the guest room.  Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in there as far as your belongings go. Then, you can get some sleep here.”

“I can sleep on your couch.”

“No. I insist. I’ll grab those bags for you.” He gestures for me to follow as he lifts the straps for my duffle bag from my hand.

“No, really,” I try.

“I said I insist. When I insist, it’s best for everyone involved to cooperate.” He winks playfully, but there’s still a dangerous edge about him.

I’m led to the room at the other end of the hallway.

Though much smaller than the master suite, it’s bigger than my living and dining room combo at home. This room also has a walk-in closet with two armoires and one long rod for hanging clothes as well as a wall of shoe cubbies. This ensuite bathroom doesn’t have a tub but it has a huge shower. I set my duffle bag on the long white and grey marble vanity and then set about hanging my things in the closet. I’d packed with my hangers, so it doesn’t take long to get my things hung. He stands there watching for a minute, making me self-conscious, but then I’m saved from the intensity of his stare because his phone makes noise and now his laser-focused attention is no longer on me.

“Your car has been picked up,” he says, staring at his screen. “It’ll be in the garage in a few minutes. Text your friend with my number, please, Violet, so she has it in case Iadanza bothers her.”

“Do you think he will?” I ask.

“Do you?” he volleys.

“I… think yes he would’ve, but with you being involved? I don’t think he’ll do anything stupid. Not tonight anyway.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “I think he’s washing the shit out of his underpants right now because he had to face me after what he did. I think he’ll keep a low profile while he tries to figure out how to pay me. Or… sorry to say… he’ll skip town.”

“That’d be the best thing in the world,” I say, then wince. “Sorry. I mean… I hope he gives you your money, but…” I pull a hanger out of the bag holding my jean jacket and hang it up.

“But you’re not counting on it.” His eyes are on the floor.

I shrug. “He’s run out of friends and probably out of options.”

He says nothing in reply.

My eyes drop to where his focus is.

A bunch of satin and lace is pooled at my feet. Oh shoot.

I squat and quickly stuff the pile of bras and underwear back into the bag.

How embarrassing.

I want to ask questions, to find out my fate if Ray can’t deliver. I don’t want my fate in Ray’s hands, at all, but maybe I don’t have a choice. To tell him that two weeks or not, Ray and I are done, and I don’t want him in my life anymore. But he knows I was trying to split with Ray so that’s moot. I’m not sure if Killian would give me an answer if I asked and I’m also not sure I want the answers. I’m just so…overwhelmed.

He’s staring at me while my wheels spin and I say nothing. It’s like he’s waiting, expecting me to say more. Maybe he’s waiting for me to work up the nerve to ask questions.

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Okay.”

He pockets his phone and says, “I’ve got some calls to make and a few quick things to do in my office. When you’re done here, feel free to come into my bedroom and I’ll vacate so you can get some sleep.”

“Okay. Um… thank you.”

“Thank you?” He tips his head curiously.

“For… showing up so fast when I texted.”

“My brother was in the parking lot, watching for Ray’s return. He somehow got in without being seen, but I messaged him when you contacted me, so he went straight up.”

“There’s an old lady that lives on the ground floor on the south side and sometimes Ray slips in her patio door and heads in that way. She loves Ray and doesn’t mind; half the time doesn’t notice if he slips in there instead of coming through the lobby.  He often does that when avoiding people.”

He stares at me like he’s trying to figure something out. I shuffle with unease and his expression changes.

“Did you eat?” he asks. “I haven’t and I’m about to warm something up.”

“I’m good.”

“For sure?”

“Yes. I was with my parents for dinner until a little while ago. Thank you for asking.”

He nods. “I’ll leave you to it.”

***

I brought most of the clothes I own, not having the frame of mind to be able to effectively plan for two weeks on a half a moment’s notice.

Two weeks. Here. In this place. While Ray scampers around trying to figure things out?

I shake it off. Talk about being thrown. After all the hangers are on the rod, I carefully put non-hangable things in the armoire drawers and set up the several pairs of shoes I’ve brought in the cubbies, kicking off the booties I’ve got on.

I grab a pair of cotton pajamas - blue shorts with cats all over them and a white tank top with the Lord Nermal kitty giving the finger (a gift from my teen brother last Christmas) along with my short purple kimono and carry them back down the hall, finding myself again in Killian’s bedroom, seeing the doors wide open and that big king-size bed with the burgundy bedding, lots of pillows. The room smells good. Faint citrus. Men’s aftershave. Leather. Something spicy like cinnamon, I think.

When I step in, he’s on the phone over in his office area, leaned back in his chair.

“---give no fucks. That bullshit happens again, she’s done… well, I thought that was what I was paying you to do. Am I paying the wrong person?” His eyes move to me as he senses my presence.

He jerks his chin up and lifts his index finger.

I back away anyway, waving my hand apologetically as he listens to the phone but tracks me with his eyes.

“Email me the recording. I’ll think on it. Right. Bye.” He ends his call and meets me by the doorway. His suit jacket is gone and the first two buttons of his dress shirt are undone.

His sleeves are rolled up, revealing strong, corded forearms. He has a tumbler with amber liquid in his hand, just a mouthful left. He puts it to his lips and tilts it back. I watch him swallow. His throat is as attractive as the rest of him.

“Something to drink, Violet? I have plenty of wine options, or I can mix you a cocktail.”

“I’m good with just some water.”

“Follow me.” He leads us back to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. Help yourself to any food or drinks you like. I have a vast wine collection and none of it’s off limits to you. Cocktails. Whatever you like. My housekeeper was here this afternoon, won’t be back until Monday, but she’s stocked me up. She always ensures there’s enough for two, in case I have company, so we’ll have dinner here tomorrow night, me and you. Sound okay?”

I don’t know how else to answer other than to say “Okay.”

“I’ll ask her to come early Monday, so you have a chance to meet her before you leave for work. Then you can talk to her about any dietary needs.”

“It’s okay. Thank you, though. I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s routine.”

“It’s her job to take care of the apartment and any guests I have. You’re a guest, Violet.”

“I don’t wanna be any trouble.”

He looks at me assessingly. “We’ll see how much trouble you’ll be.” He smirks.

I’m now even more discombobulated.

He sobers and loses the smirk. “I’ll take you to work in the morning and pick you up after.”

“I can just take my car and-”

“No. We’ll make sure Ray doesn’t try to approach you on the way to work. If he shows up, he’ll see me dropping you off and know better.  We’ll do it my way. My way and he won’t fuck with you.”

Oh boy.

He passes me a bottle of water from the stocked and well-organized fridge before he pulls out a domed plate. He lifts the dome. It’s penne with roasted vegetables and a piece of breaded meat, looks like chicken. He puts the dome on the counter and pops the plate into the microwave. “Do you want to watch television? Or…” He looks around.

“I think I’d like to just maybe take a bath or shower and then go to sleep. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. Feel free to use the tub in my bathroom. Under the cabinet are extra things you might need. Feel free to use them. Lotions and potions more suited to a woman in there compared to what’s on the shelf. Don’t be afraid to open drawers and cupboards. You’re welcome to make yourself at home in there.”

“Thank you. I brought my own potions, but I appreciate it.”

“The wi-fi network name starts with KC. You’ll see it in a list. I’m the only KC. The password… ”

He spells out K$ll1aN~

I nod, while putting it into my phone and then I say, “Thank you. And, um, goodnight.”

I hurry to my duffle bag in the guest bathroom and grab a few of my things before heading down the hall to his bedroom and closing the door. I set the bottle of water down on the nightstand and head into the bathroom with my pjs.

After I lock the door, I stare at myself in the mirror.

What a day.

What a crazy day.

I peek under the vanity and find extra toothbrushes and feminine products. Female bodywash. High end stuff. He is stocked up for a female in his ensuite bathroom, so clearly, he has enough female guests who might need tampons, nail polish remover, or other similar things. Or, he has a girlfriend, and this is her stash. But the hers side of the closet is totally empty, so maybe it’s just for casual guests.

I have all my own stuff so that’s what I set down on the side of the tub – a tub big enough for two, maybe even four. It has jets, too, so I use them. I close my eyes as I let them pulse at my body, which feels battered. I haven’t had much sleep in the past couple of days.  I haven’t had a truly restful sleep in much longer than that. And all the stress…

Yeah, it feels like I’ve been through a war. A long and agonizing one. And I don’t know when it’ll be over.

This new development is just – weird. I have no idea what to make of the events of the day. It all washes over me. Ray in the apartment - terrified but determined to take me with him, despite that his stuff was out of my room and the lock had been changed.

Ray, looking enraged. Looking devastated and shocked that I want to end things. Would he have dragged me to the car? Would he have hurt me if I outright refused to go?

I burst into tears.

I cry hard. I cry as if I haven’t cried in years and have held it all in to the point that it just blasts out of me.

Ugly crying.

Sobbing hard.

Crying into bubbles in a beautiful bathroom belonging to a stranger. A stranger who has me here as a marker for Ray’s debt. But, really, a stranger who has saved me from the insanity of life with Ray, which would’ve gotten even more insane if I hadn’t found a way out.

I have to get my head straight and figure out what all this means. Find a way to communicate with Killian, who I find insanely attractive but absolutely terrifying.

If Ray finds the money, I absolutely need him to just leave me alone anyway.

If Ray doesn’t,  I have no idea what that means for him. Or me.

I don’t think Killian would do anything bad to me. He doesn’t seem by his actions so far like that’s in the plans, though maybe he wants Ray to think it is.

I have no idea. I just don’t know.

It’s now after midnight and I need to work tomorrow, so I decide I have to get myself together.

I let the water drain out, dry off with luscious towels, and put my pajamas on.

I then climb into Killian’s bed, which smells like I recall him smelling when he hugged me back at the apartment the night I met him.

And for some reason, as if I don’t have a care in the world, I fall asleep almost immediately.

***

I jolt awake gasping. The bedding is shifting.

Is Killian climbing into the bed beside me?

He is.

He crawls under the covers and I scoot away. His breathing immediately evens out. I don’t know what to do. Why is he in bed with me? I lay frozen, in the massive bed thinking he sleep-walked. He climbed in to where I was as if I wasn’t even there. Should I get up and go sleep on his couch? I bite the inside of my cheek. If I do, he’d know what he did in the morning and it’ll be a whole awkward … thing. Like things aren't awkward enough between us.

If I’m right about why this happened – just some sleepwalking – he’ll probably be embarrassed. What if I just…instead… pretended not to notice. Maybe he’ll wake up first and just slip out of here.

Maybe he wouldn’t mention it because he’d be embarrassed, and I can pretend it didn’t happen. I inch a little further away, thinking that he’s likely always as cool as a cucumber and probably hasn’t been embarrassed in his life when a strong, warm arm wraps around me and yanks me back into a wall of muscle and heat.

Oh God! I’m being spooned by Killian Coulter. I feel the heat of his bare chest through the thin cotton of my pajama top.

He cocks his leg over me, and there’s a steel rod against my tailbone. Not a steel rod. A steel-hard Killian. My eyes bulge in the dark and I haven’t a clue what to do here.

So… I don’t do anything.

He flexes his hips against my backside and groans as he inhales my hair. Goosebumps erupt all over me. His mouth is against my bare shoulder.

He makes an "Mm" sound, and it vibrates straight through me. I squeak involuntarily as his big, strong hand glides across my hip, heading down my stomach, his fingers slipping just into my waistband before he goes completely still. Time stands still for a long beat and not only do I hold my breath, I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating momentarily. He snatches his hand back and I lose the heat of him as he slides away.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Fuck. Sorry.” He rolls away and grumbles, “I was asleep.”

He leaves the room, closing the door hard.

A minute later, I’m in the bathroom, the door locked and my back against it. God, my heart is racing.

I use the toilet and then wash my hands while I stare in the mirror at my eyes which – right now – look too big for my face. I am just … shocked. That was awkward.

I’m also parched, but I am not going out there for another bottle of water and chancing that I’ll run into him, so I cup my hand under running water and take a few mouthfuls before going back to his bed and finding myself back on his obviously preferred side of the bed. And it’s extra warm. And it smells so good. So good my face goes hot at the memory of him spooning me.

For a minute, I dare myself to indulge in a little fantasy.

What if I were his girlfriend?

What if I were safe from Ray because Killian kept me that way forever?

What if I spent my nights in this beautiful, comfortable bed after  cooking him meals in that pretty kitchen, being held by him, being wanted by him, being touched by him? Using Star Wars chopsticks and having him twirl my curls around his index finger, calling me baby…

I squirm, feeling that my underwear are slippery with arousal.

I shake it off.

I can’t think this way. It isn’t right. I’m a marker. I don’t even know how dangerous he is. Ray seemed pretty fearless most of the time until all this. Until Killian. I’d seen Ray get into arguments with people over parking spots. Ray once got possessive when a guy looked at me and the guy was bigger than he was. Ray never hesitated to puff up his chest and stand up for himself with other men. But Ray looked downright scared at the apartment tonight.

Scared to death. Of Killian.

Killian put the fear of God into Ray. And threatened him. Bodily tossed him onto the couch. The angry face on him would stop anyone cold, but Ray looked like he was gonna piss his pants.

This is a business transaction. It doesn’t matter that he’s been nice to me. He feels pity for me because Ray treats me bad. This isn’t anything other than a business transaction. And I have no earthly clue what’ll happen to me in two weeks.

If Ray pays, I still have to find a way to get rid of Ray.

If Ray doesn’t pay, I have to wonder – what happens to me?

And what will happen to Ray?

If Killian ‘disappeared’ Ray the way Ray insinuated all these years his childhood friend is prone to do – will that make me an accessory if I don’t report Ray as missing or tell the authorities what I know?

Could I live my life knowing Ray is missing, not knowing if Killian did something to him? And will Killian allow someone to have the knowledge of him potentially doing something like that?

I toss and turn for a while and then I find the fatigue taking over, so I snuggle in, pretending that I’m being spooned.

After a long while, I find myself with a smile, my crazy thoughts taking me to a place where I’m thinking that maybe someday, a long time from now when I’m ready, I’ll look for a guy to spend my life with that spoons me at night, cocoons me in his embrace and makes me feel safe. Like this.

And then … I’m not conscious of anything until the bongo beat of my phone’s alarm alerts me that six thirty has arrived.

***

This room is a beautiful place to wake up.

I blink the sleepiness away, in awe, at the way the light dapples across the space through the texture of the blinds that are open partway.

The sky looks beautiful.

I throw the covers back and walk to the window to look out.

It’s looking like a crisp morning and I know it’s windy by the slight rattle out there as well as the fact that a burnished leaf floats by. One of the few left, signaling winter is ready to fully settle in. Probably any minute.

And then I smile because I’m not in my little apartment with Ray sleeping, snoring up a storm. I can wash and blow-dry my hair today.

I slip into the bathroom, use it, and then take my toiletries bag with me down the hall into that guest room so I can use the shower there where I left my big duffel bag with all my hair stuff and makeup.

But when I step into the bathroom, I’m greeted with steam and an almost naked Killian Coulter.

He’s drying off and has the towel in front of himself, but I can see both hipbones and most of the rest of him – other than the pelvic area behind the towel.

I screech in surprise as I face his bright green eyes, his inky wet hair, and the expanse of muscle on display.

I spin away.

“I’m so sorry!” I scurry out of the bathroom.

Not five paces away, my wrist is shackled by his grip. Not roughly, just to halt me.

“Hey. It’s okay. We didn’t discuss the morning routine, so I decided to shower here since you were asleep.”

“Sorry,” I don’t meet his eyes. I stare at the ceiling. “I figured most of my stuff was in here so I should get ready in here near my clothes and figured you’d want your own bathroom. Plus, you left the door open…”

“And we should’ve talked about it last night. But we didn’t. No biggie. Go ahead and take your shower. I’ll get dressed in my closet.” He lets go of me and gestures for me to pass him.

He has a thick purple towel wrapped around his waist and it sits low. Very low, showing off his defined abdomen and the V of his hips.

Oh shit.  I’m gawking.

My eyes snap away and I scurry back into the bathroom and shut the door.

I hear a sexy chuckle.

“Now we’re even,” he says.

I frown, but then it dawns.

I guess he’s right. He saw me in a towel once.

And his boxer briefs and a pair of track pants are staring at me from the floor by the toilet this morning.

Sheesh. What a disaster.

14

Killian

First, I climb in bed with the girl and put my hands on her; now I’m almost showing her my junk. Fuck sakes.

I head into my closet to get dressed in a suit while I ponder how fucking right she felt in my bed last night, in my arms, her sweet ass cheeks cradling my cock.

I already jerked off in her shower to that memory, and now I’m fuckin’ hard again thinking about how her sexy eyes raked over my body.

This arrangement could be interesting.

Why did I wind up in bed with her last night? I guess I must’ve half-woken on the couch and wandered to my bed. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen asleep on the couch and woke up in my own bed, obviously stumbling off half-asleep. I was a sleepwalker when I was a kid, especially when I was fretting about something. But last night, I must’ve been on autopilot.

First, the girl goes through that trauma last night with that shit stain and has to pack her stuff and come to my place – and I know she has a bunch of questions but is too afraid to ask. I’d put her out of that misery, but frankly, I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. Or mostly. I haven’t yet decided how all this is going to play out.

Then, the poor girl wakes up to me pawing at her, half an inch away from getting my hand in her underwear and then this morning – on top of all that – I nearly flash her.

I roll my eyes as I fasten my belt.

***

I’m at the kitchen counter, finishing off my coffee when Violet comes out, biting her lip.

She trips as her eyes land on me and she recovers as I reach for her hand. She doesn’t take it. Instead, she squeaks, “Oops.”

She’s got dry hair, beautifully sleek and straight, though I do like her corkscrew curls, too, and she’s in jeans and a soft-looking deep purple sweater with the beige heeled boots she had on last night.

I’m dressed in a suit, but I’m sporting four days of scruff on my face. It’s a nice ego boost to have a beautiful girl trip on air because she sees you and you know she likes how you look.

I can’t help but take her in from head to toe. My fingers tingle with the urge to feel that sweater.

“Casual Friday at work, thankfully,” she smiles. “Can I, um…” she gestures to my coffee maker.

I pour her a cup of coffee. “Here.” I open the fridge and pass her a quart of flavored creamer, the brand I’d seen her use that morning in her apartment.

She blinks at it with obvious surprise.

I say nothing.

Yes, I had it brought in for her. She looks at me like she’s wondering if me taking her last night was premeditated. I can read it on her face, Violet’s face seems to be an open book to what she’s thinking. But she asks no questions.

“You start work at nine o’clock, right? You want some breakfast?”

“Eight thirty, actually, but I’m not really an early breakfast person,” she replies. “I’m more of a ten o’clock donut or bagel at my desk gal. But please don’t let me stop you.”

I smile. “Naw, I usually grab food after I work out, but I skipped my workout this morning so I’m not there quite yet.”

She sips her coffee and looks away, blushing.

And I find myself staring at her body. She’s got a great body. I know she works out from the reports Wes provided, and the fact that she’s a stir fry or dinner salad girl goes along with that, but she’s also got curves and it makes sense with the bagel/donut comment.

“About last night, Violet…”

She stares blankly. Or she tries to stare blankly, but I can see the flush creeping up her neck and over her face.

“That wasn’t me trying to take advantage of you. I just…” I pause. I’m not a bumbler but I feel loss for words for a minute as I stare at her large, dark, and expressive eyes.

“Wandered to your own bed from your couch while asleep? I understand,” she finishes for me. “It’s okay. It was pretty obvious you weren’t quite conscious. Sorry if it mucked up your sleep last night having to sleep on your couch.” She wrinkles her nose.

“Don’t worry about it.” I look at my wrist. “I should get you there.”

“I can take my car and…”

“I’ll take you,” I tell her.

She sips her coffee, looking rushed and I can tell by her face it’s too hot.

“Bring it with you,” I say.

“Oh…” she shakes her head. “That’s okay, I’d probably spill it in your car.”

“Here.” I open the cupboard and pull out a ceramic travel mug and gesture for her to give me her mug. She does so I pour the contents of the black coffee mug into the white travel cup and hand it back after tightening the lid. I stick the dirty mug into my dishwasher. “Though I don’t give a fuck if you spill it in my car.”

She looks at me with surprise and then shakes her head as if to clear her expression. “Oh, yay. Ceramic. I hate metal or plastic travel mugs. It never tastes right. You even load the dishwasher. Wow.”

I had Patricia buy the ceramic travel mug yesterday.

“Patricia doesn’t come back until Monday. I like how she keeps my place, and she can’t do more than two days a week. If I’m not self-sufficient, I have to live in filth between her days. I don’t like living in filth.” I close the dishwasher.

“That’s refreshing for a guy your age.”

“Raymond a slob?” I ask.

“That’s an understatement,” she replies softly.

“Not a shock. Let’s go.”

She looks fresh and well-rested and I’m glad for it. She looked worn out last night.

***

After a quiet ride to her job, which is less than five minutes’ drive from my place, we pull up in front and I spot him heading in the other direction, walking quickly with a baseball cap on his head. He saw she was with me, pulled the visor down and tried to slink away like the fuckin’ snake he is.

“See that?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she breathes, looking ashen.

“Stay put.” I park and jog to catch up to him. He looks over his shoulder before he freezes, shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, I saw you, motherfucker.”

15

Violet

Watching Killian speak to Ray is an astounding sight because Ray looks so visibly afraid.

Killian? Calm assertiveness. His body language, the way his mouth moves as he says whatever he’s saying to Ray? Cool as a cucumber. Ray stretches his neck to see me in the car and his eyes go huge.

He looks at me pleadingly.

Killian sidesteps to block Ray’s view of me, continuing to speak, and now I can’t see either of their faces, but the body language is telling. Killian’s body language has shifted just subtly. Maybe he’s gone from assertive to a little aggressive because Ray backs up, hands rising up in the air, giving me a view of his face again. His expression is one of a dog that’s been kicked. I then watch Ray stuff his hands into his jacket pockets and hurry away, not looking back.

Killian pulls his phone out from inside his jacket pocket and dials while standing there.

I remember to breathe and then I glance at my phone.

8:15.

8:16.

8:17.

He’s finally coming back to the car and he’s still talking, rambling off the address to my office building.

“Okay, Wes, sounds good. Thanks.”

He ends his call and his eyes move to me.

“Ray won’t be back. Or he better not be. He contacts you at work by phone or happens to show up, email, anything at all, please tell me.”

I blink at him.

“Okay, Violet?”

I nod.

“That was Wesley Traynor,” he continues. “He’ll be here today making sure Ray doesn’t bother you.  This is Wes.”

He shows me his phone and I see a digital business card with a photo of a very attractive bi-racial man with light green eyes and a killer smile.

Wesley Traynor,

Zack Jacobs Private Investigations.

I nod stiffly.

“Right.” Killian tucks his phone away. ”So you see this guy seem like he’s following you or lingering, you’ll know who he is. Chances are if Wes does his job correctly, you won’t even notice him. Best get inside. Have a good day, Violet.”

I grab my purse and start climbing out of his car.

“You finish at five o’clock?” he asks before I get the car door closed, holding my coffee out for me.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I accept the mug.

“I’ll be here waiting.”

“Okay,” I say. “Have a good day, too. Thanks for the ride.” I close the door and walk to the door.

Debbie, a girl that works two floors above my floor in a law office who always goes for lunch with Cammy my cubicle neighbor stops and waits for me, I think. She’s smiling right at me. She waves at Killian. I look over my shoulder and catch him giving her the finger as he pulls away.

She throws her head back and laughs before sobering and looking me over.

“Violet, right? Did I just see you get out of Kill Coulter’s car?”

“Hey. Um, yeah. Yeah to both.”

“Wanna dish the dirt on him? I got questions.” She winks. “And I might have answers, too. I’m Deb.”

“Um…”

“Met him when I was a teenager. He was good buddies with my ex fiancé. You doin’ him? The guy has a reputation, girl.”

“Not … no. I –” I’m thrown.

My phone rings. Susanna.

Thank goodness. Saved by the bell.

“Sorry, I gotta take this.”  I move off to the side and lean against the window. Debbie goes to the elevator, waving bye to me with her long black nails, a smirk on her bright red lips.

That was weird. And rude. Mild annoyance bubbles up because what if I was “doing” him? She’s there trying to talk smack; why? Because he doesn’t like her and gave her the finger?

“Hey Suse,” I greet.

“Hi!” Susanna exclaims. “Oh. My. God. Ohmygod, Violet.”

“What?” I ask.

“Last night! What, she asks…”

“Oh my God is right. Holy moly, right?”

“Ho-lee-moly,” she parrots.

“I don’t even know what to say about all that last night,” I say, my voice just barely above a whisper.

“Me either, girlfriend, but I am very intrigued about this situation. What happened last night?”

I gulp in some air.  “He took me to his apartment, set me up and gave me his bed. Said he’d sleep on the couch. Only…”

“Only?”

My face goes hot. I drop my voice to as low as I figure it could go where she’ll still hear me. “He sleepwalked or something and climbed in with me. It was just a mistake and he left, apologizing. Said he’s gonna order a bed for his guest room today for me.”

“Oh my.” Susanna giggles.

“Oh my is right.”

“The plot thickens. Maybe he’s naturally drawn to you.”

“As if.” My face feels like it’s on fire.

“He is gorgeous, girl. Gorgeous. And loaded. And he saved you from Dumbass Deathray.”

“For now.”

“You’ve got two weeks to figure it out. Maybe you should tell Killian that even if Ray pays him back, you want him to do you a favor and get him gone from your life.”

“I’m not sure what sort of debt I’d be in with him for a favor like that, though, Suse. But, hey, I’ve gotta start my day. I’m in the lobby of my office building. Killian dropped me off and Ray was here, so Killian said something to him and made him leave.”

“Even holier moly.”

“Yeah. He’s sending a private eye to watch me.”

“Girl, that’s… wait. A private eye?”

I say nothing.

“Violet, this guy isn’t just interested in getting his money back in his pants. He’s interested in getting into your pants.”

I bite my lip and press the button for the elevator.

“I could see all that last night, even the bed snafu meaning nothing personal but this? Shit.”

“I can’t…” I shake my head and swallow. “I can’t even de-scramble that in my present state of mind, Susanna; I’m a walking disaster. I still have to decompress after all that. I can’t believe all that’s happened.”

“Let’s decompress tonight after work. T.G.I.F.”

“Killian is picking me up and told me we would eat together tonight,” I say, getting into the elevator and pressing the button for my floor. Two other people slip in, one from my office – a guy named Josh in tech support who got me all the cardboard boxes for Ray, and the other a courier with a stack of packages.

“Oh, re-e-eeeeally?” She sounds positively delighted.

“I have to find out some stuff. Figure out what happens if Ray can’t…you know…”

“Maybe it’s better you don’t ask any questions. Maybe it’s better you just watch and see what happens. I tell ya, I’d like to be a fly on the wall.”

“I don’t know: all this is so, so strange. And I’ve done such a bad job at self-preservation, and-”

“I’d say. I’d also say, go with it for now. He got you away from Ray, he’s got you in his swanky pad. It’s swanky, right?”

“So swanky. Not that it matters remotely.”

The doors open. My floor. I get out after Josh, the tech guy. He smiles over his shoulder at me. I smile back and then we part ways as I head down the hall toward my cubicle, setting my coffee down.

Cammy pops up with a smile and a wave.

“Anything is better than the hell I’ve been living in.” I wave back.

“Violet.” Susanna’s voice has gone sad.

“I know. Onward and upwards.”

“That’s right. One step at a time and I’m here for you, every step of the way. You promised me the other night that we wouldn’t let anything come between us again and I’m tellin’ you, sister, I won’t let it even if you do. I’m not ever sitting back and saying nothing again. Okay, you gotta go. Call me tonight afterwards,” Susanna requests. “Let me know what happened. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say.

“Love you, girlie. I have a very good feeling your Ray days are over.”

“I hope.”

“Believe it, Violet. He’s done screwing with you. He was done when you told me you needed my help because I am determined to help you and he’s more than done now, because you’ve got tall, dark, rich, powerful, and gorgeous on your side and it looks like your ex man is afraid of him, so… yeah. You’re on the other side of this.”

“I hope so,” I breathe, hooking my handbag over the hook inside my cubicle.

Cammy is still smiling at me and my eyes are filled with wet. I do my best to hide it.

She notices and flinches, looking concerned.

“And best of all, I got to zap that motherfucker and fuck did it feel good to watch him hit the floor and do the funky chicken for a minute.”

Laughter bursts from me.

From Susanna too.

We laugh for a solid half a minute before she adds, still laughing, “Should’ve seen him. I don’t know how you could turn away and not watch that. You’re too pure for this world, bestie.”

“I love you,” I say, dashing tears off my cheeks. Tears that were very nearly spilling out of sadness are spilling with laughter instead. That’s what a best friend does for you. They turn the sad tears into laughing tears.

More than one set of eyes are on me with curiosity, so I sit down in my cube for a bit of privacy, trying to get my coat off with my free hand.

Cammy sits back down. I’m sure she’s all ears though.

“Call me,” Susanna orders. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll know you’re getting a little something… or, hoping – a lotta something from Killian Coulter.”

“I’ll definitely be calling you.”

I end the call with a smile. If only she knew just how interesting things had gotten the night before.

But I won’t talk about that. It’s not like Killian meant to do that grinding against me thing, or pulling me against his body and nearly getting into my pajama pants. And I don’t want to say anything to anybody, even Susanna, because it feels like it’d be a betrayal of sorts.

And I don’t know enough about Killian to know if he deserves that kind of loyalty from me, but he’s done nothing but nice things for me so far, even if the whole thing is really weird and could be construed as me being held hostage. If it were that much of a hostage situation, wouldn’t he have taken Susanna, too, knowing she knows who he is?

I shake that thought off as I turn my computer on and sip my coffee. Best coffee I’ve had in a long, long time.

Weird that he had that creamer I love in his fridge, though. He didn’t use it that morning in my apartment. Maybe he has a girlfriend who also likes it.

“Nice to hear laughter from those lips,” Cammy greets, popping her head up from her cubicle once again. “It’s been a while, girlie.”

“I like your hair,” I say.

She’s had it cut. Cammy is from Guyana and her typically long black hair is usually tied in a ponytail. It’s now shoulder length with all sorts of flippy layers.

“I like it a lot,” I add.

“Thanks,” she says flipping it dramatically. “I do, too. It cost me a fortune and I might’ve given myself a disease with the product they used, but it feels great. Anyway, it’s been too long since I’ve heard laughter or seen smiles from you.” She points at me.

I shrug. “Yeah. Life’s like that sometimes.”

“Debs texted me. Says you showed up with a hottie she knows. A rich, powerful, dangerous hottie. You gonna spill some beans?”

That didn’t take long.

It took less than five minutes, in fact.

“Nope,” I say with confidence I haven’t felt in a long time. “Not yet.”

Her eyes go round.

“He just gave me a ride,” I add, feeling some of the wind come out of my sails because what am I doing, acting like there might be something? There’s not.

“He did, did he?” She wiggles her eyebrows dramatically.

I shake my head. “Potty brain.”

“Is it gonna be something spill-worthy?”

I shrug. “Not likely.”

“Okay, okay. I’m watching, though. I wanna see more of these smiles on your face, lady. Hear more laughing. I really do.”

Me, too.

“Been worried about you,” she says with a straight, serious face.

I do my best to not show any expression but inside I feel like I’m about to cry.

I would call us coworkers rather than friends, but we’ve worked side-by-side for four years. She knew me before Ray. Since that’s the case, she obviously knows how I used to be.

I can barely recall how I used to be.

If she’s paid attention, and it seems like she has, she’s watched me wither like a dying flower.

“You wanna come to lunch with me ‘n Debs today?” Cammy asks.

I ponder it a minute.

She looks hopeful.

“Actually, sure.”

I know they want the dirt on Killian, but I don’t have to give it to them. Not that I have any dirt…not really. Going out for lunch with coworkers is something I haven’t done in a long time. Not only because I never wanted to (or couldn’t) spend any money, also because I was just in that… funk. Wanting to just coast under the radar with everyone.

Debbie isn’t a coworker, but she’s in the building and part of a larger clutch of girls that go out together often. She and Cammy do lunch daily and a bunch of them tend to go out on payday week Fridays together after work. Maybe part of getting myself back will be making some friends again.

Though, really, having Susanna in my life again – that’s more than enough after such a long time of having nobody.

I’m feeling light on my feet suddenly. I dig into my day feeling confident that for two weeks, Ray won’t bother me. It’ll be like a Ray detox. And I already feel like I thrived after just one week without him while he was in Atlantic City.

Another two weeks? Bliss. Who knows what’ll happen after that, though?

But, maybe, with the detox, whatever happens, I’ll be more readily able to get through it.

For now, I feel like living. I feel like not only do I want it, but I also need it. Living just a little.

***

Lunch with Cammy and Debbie starts off fun. They call one another Cams and Debs  and they have me laughing as we walk across the street to a food court in the bottom of an office building together. They’ve claimed me, one on either side of me, linking arms with me. Immediately after we sit down with our food trays, they launch into efforts to pick my brain.

“Soooo, spill. How do you know Killian?” Cammy asks.

Debbie’s eyes are on me as she pulls the clear plastic sleeve off her black plastic fork.

“He’s friends with Ray. He gave me a ride.” I shrug and take a bite of my salad.

“He’s rich,” Debbie says and then she leans forward, her long, sleek raven ponytail over one shoulder and nearly landing in her salad dressing. She flicks it back. “And dangerous. He’s connected. Like my ex was.”

“The ex,”  Cammy says like I should know who this person is.

My eyes bounce between them.

Debbie shrugs. “My fuckup. I had all those oats to sow and gave up the catch of the century.” She drops her fork with disgust written all over her face. “Wish I’d met him a couple years ago instead of when I was a teenager. I wouldn’t have fucked that up.”

Cammy shakes her head with sadness. “You live and learn, Debs. We all do.”

Debbie stares off into space. “He was gorgeous. Great in bed. Rich. And a fixer. Any bullshit that came my way, he’d erase it for me.”

“What happened?” I ask softly.

I’ve seen her around always with nothing but confidence exuding from her. She’s a tough chick, I can tell. But right now she looks like she’s in a lot of pain. She looks filled with regret.

She shrugs. “Too young and stupid. Too up my own ass to realize how good I had it, I guess. And I blame him a little for that, too, because he made my life a fucking breeze. I got what I wanted when I wanted it, and he made me feel invincible. Like I couldn’t do a thing to fuck that up because he loved me that much. Too bad he didn’t love me enough to overlook cheating.” She sniffles and clears her expression. “Anyway, enough about me, that ship sailed and the pain is just feeling fresh because I just got it thrown in my face seeing he’s moved on, so I’m just sour right now.”

Cammy explains. “We were eating lunch in the park a while back and he showed up, holding another girl’s hand. He’s been known as a player since they split up and she’s worried that he’s gonna get married now.”

Debbie lifts a hand to halt Cammy, so Cammy shoves a forkful of food into her mouth but gives me wide eyes.

Debbie keeps talking.  “Kill Coulter was or maybe still is good friends with my ex and of the same caliber. Rich. Looks like a male model. Not afraid to get his hands dirty. But Dario Ferrano was born rich where Kill came from nothing. Worked hard for what he has. And I respect that.” She sips her water.

“So, you went for it, and…” Cammy starts.

“And he knew me and knew about the ugly break-up, so he wasn’t interested. Knew I broke Dario’s heart and wanted no part of me. Looks at me like I’m dirt. I grew up. I’ve changed.” She puts her hand to her heart. “I’ve had to face facts… any guy who knew me before won’t set eyes on me twice without preconceived notions that I’m a slut. I can’t look back. Just gotta look ahead.”

“Good for you,” Cammy says, forking up some more chili fries. “Sometimes forward motion is the best motion.”

“Yeah,” Debbie looks wistful. “I still miss him, though. Still wish I hadn’t fucked up. I had everything. I’ve tried getting serious with other guys, but no one compares.”

“It wasn’t the right timing,” Cammy states. “Timing is important. Your time with the right man for you – it’ll come.”

“Yeah.” Debbie goes quiet.

“Lesson learned,” Cammy repeats. “You have to stop beating yourself up. I keep telling you this. If there’s nothing you can do, it does no good to keep ruminating in it.”

Debbie’s face goes sour and she waves her hand.

So,” Cammy turns her attention to me. “He’s friends with Ray. Maybe Ray knows Debs’s ex, too.”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“So. You ‘n Ray. You and Ray aren’t still together, and Ray’s friend is giving you drives to work?”

I shake my head. “No. Not together in my mind.”

“He’s not taking a hint?” Cammy asks.

“Long story.”

“We got forty-five minutes left of our lunch break. How long is the story?” Cammy’s eyes go sharp. She doesn’t want to give up.

“She’s not ready to talk,” Debbie says. “We’re here if you change your mind, though.”

I nod.

“Ray. Ray. Ray Ia-something?” Debbie asks.

I straighten. “Iadanza. You know who he is?”

“Oh shit, girl. He’s hot. He didn’t go to our school and I wouldn’t say I know him well, but I know who he is. You’re ending that? Maybe I should go for it.”

“I’d say have at it, but you probably don’t want to,” I say.

She tilts her head. “He fuck around?”

“No. He’s just not… I don’t wanna---”

“He’s the reason she’s sad all the time,” Cammy says. “You stay away from that shithead. You should be done with him. I don’t try to eavesdrop but we’re neighbors and I’ve heard you on the phone a time or two, okay a time or ten, hearing him yellin’ at you over the phone right through our cubicle walls.”

I swallow.

“So, nothing happening with you and Killian?” Debbie pushes.

“He just gave me a ride.”

“He’s hot,” Debbie says. “Super-hot. And he has a reputation with women.”

“Tell us,” Cammy demands.

“Like I said, he was good friends with my ex, and we were in some of the same circles late in high school, early college for Dario. Killian didn’t go to school after that though. Graduated high school but wanted to make money and knew how to do it, too. Dario said the guy didn’t need college. My ex’s family financed the startup of that first club, I heard. When you’re connected with that family, the connections typically run pretty deep, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not into some of their other enterprises.”

“Organized crime,” Cammy stage-whispers.

Debbie slashes her hand over her throat with a death stare.

Cammy pinches an imaginary zipper over her lips while Debbie continues, leaning closer to me. “I overheard a conversation with a girl he used to see at my nail salon. I had my earbuds in waitin’ on my nails to dry, nose in a magazine, but these girls were just runnin’ their mouths with no idea I was paying attention, let alone the fact I knew who they were talkin’ about. The one chick said she loved him, he was a dream with all those goals, how good-looking he is, how he knows how to treat a lady. But she said he wasn’t commitment material. He wasn’t interested enough in her, she said, wouldn’t settle down any time soon. She also said he was way too kinky. Too kinky for her tastes. This was one of the reasons I tried to make an approach. I’m totally down for kink.”

“You sure are,” Cammy mutters, taking a pull on her straw, hollowing out her cheeks.

Debbie laughs.

My face feels hot. It feels wrong to sit and gossip about Killian like this.

“She’s into all sorts of freaky-deaky shit,” Cammy says and Deb cuts her off.

“Let’s not scare her off.  So, anyway, Kill gave me the brush off. Fuckin’ bro code.” She rolls her eyes. “Said he’d never go where his buddies have gone before. But worse, he treated me like garbage because of shit I did when I was barely out of diapers.” She rolls her eyes another time. “He’s a grudge holder. And I’ve heard he carries it mean. Know someone who says they saw firsthand that if you fuck with anyone Kill cares about, he’ll ruin you. You fuck him over directly, he’ll annihilate you.”

“Like how?” Cammy asks, sucking on her milkshake.

“Like, he’s connected like Dario.”

Cammy makes a face and her eyes bounce to me. “Connected like…” she explains, “sleepin’ with the fishes?”

“Shh. Don’t be silly. Zip it,” Deb says, but she’s nodding  just subtly with big eyes as if to tell Cammy and me she’s hit the nail on the head.

I’ve lost my appetite.

“Guys, I just realized I have a thing due at one o’clock. I’m gonna have to take this back to my desk and finish it there. Sorry.”

“Shit, we spooked her.” Debbie announces.

“Really – I just gotta go, but please ask me to come out with you guys again. I had fun. I just really need to get back.”

I rush to put the lid on my lunch container and get a takeout bag from the counter. I head out, waving bye to them. Just as I’m about to exit the food court, I see a guy approach from behind where we’d been sitting.

He walks ahead of me, his long legs eating up the distance. It’s as if he’s just somebody passing by, putting dark glasses on, wearing jeans and a leather jacket with a wool beanie on his head, but I know he’s not just somebody passing by. He’s the private eye.

Before those glasses went on, I saw those striking light-colored eyes. I didn’t even think about the private eye Killian hired to keep an eye on me today following me here. Of course he followed me out to lunch to make sure I’m not going to be harassed by Ray.

I hurry to my office building across the street not seeing him anywhere – it’s like he’s managed to vanish - but strangely I’m sure he’s watching me anyway.

I get the impression Killian wouldn’t hire anyone not fully competent.

I wonder with a sinking feeling if that whole conversation in all its sordidness was overheard.

***

I buckle down for the afternoon and it’s super-busy, so time flies and before I know it, the office is filled with the buzz of my coworkers leaving the building. It’s Friday so there’s that Friday feeling in the air. And for a change, I kind of have it, too.

I don’t usually feel great about Friday nights because it often means being with Ray all weekend or at home wondering when Ray might traipse in and out. Work has been my respite from him.

Not so this weekend. I have plans for dinner with Killian and I don’t know what’s on for the rest of the weekend but maybe I can go do something with Susanna tomorrow. I quickly finish the purchase order I’m typing up and submit it to a supplier before I shut down my computer, then head out the door, saying good night to our receptionist, Tara, on my way.

Killian is there, at the curb waiting for me. It’s 5:07.

He doesn’t stay sitting in the car, though. When he sees me step outside, he gets out, rounds the hood and opens the passenger door with a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I tell him. “Thanks,” I tack on as I scoot inside.

He closes the car door and comes back around.

“How was today?” he asks, not even looking annoyed.

Ray would often leave me waiting outside my work back before I started to take the bus. But if he were there and I was late, I’d get attitude at the very least.

“Good,” I say, buckling up. “How was your day?”

“Pretty easy so far. I took the day off.”

“Oh. Careful, though. Calling it easy might’ve just jinxed it.”

“Good point. I did stuff, it just wasn’t difficult stuff. Had some errands to take care of. Hungry?”

“Gettin’ there, yeah.”

“I hit the supermarket on my way to you. I thought maybe you and I could cook dinner.”

I jerk in surprise.

“I know you worked all day, and my day was easy,” he says, “but I’ve got a hankerin’ for that meal you made the other week. The stir fry.”

“Oh. Oh, sure.”

“I hope I guessed right with all the ingredients. I’m happy to help. Put me to work,” he says, smiling. “I’ll do all the chopping and I’ll set the table and do the dishes.”

I nod nervously. “Okay, sure.”

I swallow down what feels like a lump as I stare ahead at traffic.

“Unless you want to make that dinner salad you told me about. We can stop again and get the ingredients for that.”

I blink. “The dinner salad?”

“Yeah. The caprese chicken with the avocados?”

I blink again. He remembered that conversation?

“Teriyaki chicken stir fry sounds nice. And you’ve already bought everything.”

“Cool. Maybe the dinner salad tomorrow. Ass-wipe bug you at all today? Emails or texts?”

I shake my head, brain feeling fuzzy as I try not to show a reaction to the words coming out of his mouth, words about us spending time together not just tonight but also tomorrow.

“No. I think I um…saw your private eye at the food court during my lunch, though. I kind of forgot about him and then at lunch, saw him. I think. I’m pretty sure.”

“You did. He told me you looked directly at him. He didn’t know I shared his description, or he wouldn’t have been seen. I apologize if that made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. It’s okay.”

“You’re friends with Deb Pugliese?”

“Not exactly friends. More acquaintances and maybe kinda on the road to becoming friends? She’s good friends with my cubicle neighbor. They asked me out to lunch. I think they did it because Debbie was curious about you. I saw you give her the finger this morning.”

I chance a glance at him. He’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable.

“And what did you tell her about me?”

“Don’t you already know what I said from your private eye?” I inquire and as soon as I do it, I flinch, regretting it, hoping it didn’t sound like sarcasm, because I didn’t mean it sarcastically, I just figure he heard all about the conversation.

He smiles at the windshield and then his eyes meet mine as we stop for a red light.

“I do.”

I moisten my lips. “Sorry, I hope that didn’t sound snarky.”

“It didn’t.” He gives me a firm shake of his head.

“So, you’re also aware of what she said about you?” I ask.

“I am.”

I say nothing.

Neither does he.

And the air feels thick.

“You got things you wanna ask me, Violet?” He finally breaks the silence.

I bite my thumbnail.

“Ask me whatever you wanna ask me.”

We proceed through the now green light.

His phone rings and I’m either saved by the bell or this time…cursed.

He hits a button on the dash.

“Alana, you’re on speaker. I’m not alone.”

“It’s about Amber.”

“Tell me. Just the skinny.”

“Hand in the till again. I’ve got her in the back office, and I think she’s ready to bolt.”

“This caught on camera?”

“Yes, boss.”

“I’ll be there in seven minutes. Don’t allow her to leave.”

He pulls a U-turn as he presses a button on his dash to end the phone call.

“Sorry, Violet, gotta make a pit stop on the way home.”

A few minutes later, we’re pulling into the parking lot of Genesis. I knew this was one of Killian’s clubs a long time ago. Ray pointed it out to me before and I suggested we go in. He never wanted to. I thought it was a little weird, since he frequently talked about Killian.

“Should I wait here?” I ask.

“No, come in. Have a glass of wine or a cocktail while you wait. I just have to deal with a staff member who’s been stealing from me.”

“Deal with?” My body is tense.

“She’s had some till shortfalls on her shift, so we started watching closer. The amounts got larger and we now have camera footage showing it isn’t just poor math skills. This won’t stand.”

Is he only going to fire her? Or is she about to learn that screwing over Killian Coulter will not stand in some other way?

What does that mean, though?

A shiver trills up my spine.

“I’ll bring the stir fry stuff inside, so the chicken doesn’t spoil in the car. One sec. Wait there. I’ll get your door.”

Why does he have to open and close my door for me? I want to ask, but I decide not to.

He opens my door after I hear the trunk slam and then he’s reaching for my hand to help me out. His other hand has two large paper bags with twine handles from a gourmet grocery store near my office.

I pull my hand back as soon as it feels like it won’t be rude to do so and his hand moves to the small of my back and it stays there the whole time he leads me toward the door, across the vast parking lot. He’s parked in the very back of it instead of right by the door.

“No reserved spot for the boss?” I ask.

“Best parking spots are always for the paying customers,” he tells me. “Especially on a Friday night.”

I smile as we step in and I take in the interior as we’re greeted by a hostess who immediately gets on a phone saying, “Killian’s here.”

The décor of this club is beautiful. Everything is black, burgundy, and rich-looking. Staff members move about wearing black and white with long burgundy aprons tied around their waists.

An attractive blonde woman of about thirty or thirty-five, dressed in a little black dress and burgundy strappy shoes comes toward us. She’s got her hair in a bun and no jewelry on other than a wristwatch, so while she’s dressed like she could be a guest, she’s got a professional edge to her. She’s also wearing burgundy rimmed eyeglasses. She approaches and smiles at me before her eyes move to Killian’s face.

“Alana, this is Violet. Can you get her seated and have Heidi take care of her?”

“Heidi?” Alana confirms with what looks like alarm.

“Then meet me in the office with the tapes,” he says, as if he didn’t hear her question.

“Got it, boss. Hi Violet. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” I say. “You, too.”

“Killian, Amber’s in the office, but she’s been trying to go so I have Tony in there with her. She’s turned on the waterworks.” She rolls her eyes.

“Violet, excuse me; I’ll try not to be too long.” He hands Alana the two bags. “Pop those in the walk-in for me, please. Violet, don’t let me forget those.” He winks at me and then follows the length of the long bar and then disappears into a hallway.

I’m put in a corner, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize this might be the best seat in the house. I can see almost the entire club from this vantage point. I sit at the booth’s c-shaped bench. It’s buttery-soft black leather with a gleaming dark wood table covered in glass. This place is definitely high-end. It’s dimly lit and dripping with sophistication. It seems more like an upscale supper club than a place where you can bet on horses or other sports.

There are televisions on the walls with different events playing. The place is about three-quarters full, but a group of about a dozen forty-something men have just  come in, all of them well-dressed, likely coming in from office jobs. They’re seated in a section that’s obviously been reserved for a party.

Alana gestures and another employee approaches.

“Heidi, this is Violet. She’s Killian’s guest. Take extra-good care of her.” Alana smiles at me and then hurries the way Killian went.

The petite red pixie-cut haired server, dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt with a black skirt, burgundy apron, and black heels smiles. “Hi. Oh wow. You’re here with Killian?”

I smile. “Yes.”

“Been here before?”

“No. My first visit,” I reply.

“Been to any of Killian’s clubs?” Heidi asks.

“No,” I say. “This is the first one. It’s … nice.”

“This is a great location,” she agrees, looking around as if taking it in for the first time.

“Beautiful. Totally not what I was expecting. Although, I’m not sure what I did expect.” I shrug and laugh nervously. “I don’t know anything about sports betting or any other kind of betting.”

“Well, I can give you the rundown. This one, Genesis, it’s his first. We have Exodus, too, which is a little more working class, blue collar, also a great spot. Then there’s Law, more like this place and near the airport – attracts lots of traveling business types. I worked there but just transferred here.” She said all that super-fast, takes a big breath, then continues talking rapid-fire. “We’ve got the big opening tomorrow for Numbers, club number four. That’s going to have a bit of a Dave ‘n Busters feel to it. It’s gonna be a fun place. I might even ask if I can switch to work there, I’m not sure. I’m here getting a bit of re-training right now under one of the company’s best. I think it’s kind of like probation, but they didn’t call it that, which is really cool of them. This is a great company to work for. Killian’s also got his online betting site. I’d love to work for that. I’m great with tech, data, the whole nine yards. It’s technically outside the chain, though, catering to a global market – instead of local, and I don’t think he’s hiring for it. You been dating him long?”

I blink. Wow, she talks fast. And says a whole lot.

“Sorry, none of my business,” she continues, “I have a killer crush on him. Well, killer is a bad word. I’m harmless. Not a threat at all. I just tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous. And a little heartbroken.” She laughs. “And you seem so nice. Not even remotely a bitch like I hear he usually dates.”

I’m stunned. Too stunned to even correct her.

“Heidi,” another female server growls as she passes.

“Sorry,” Heidi says to me. “I apologize. I’m gonna get my butt canned if I don’t learn to keep my mouth shut and find a way to implement a filter.” She barks out a laugh.

“It’s okay. I’m not offended. I’m not dating Killian, though. He’s just…” I draw a blank.

She waits.

There’s a never-ending loaded silence before I pretend I didn’t just pause in the middle of an explanation. She leans in as if getting closer to me will make me more comfortable to finish my sentence. Instead I change tack and ask, “Can I have a glass of something sweet? Like… Sangria or…”

“We don’t have that on the menu here. We do at Exodus and they probably will at Numbers. What about I try to whip you up one? I’m a dab hand.”

“That’s okay. How about Moscato. Rosé, if you have it.”

“Any nibbles with that? Would you like a menu? Oh, shoot. I didn’t even bring you a menu.” She slaps her forehead a little roughly. “Ow.”

“No, no thank you,” I say. “I’m not hungry and I don’t need a menu.”

“I’m totally gonna get myself canned.” She smacks her forehead again before she hurries off, cheeks red with embarrassment.

A young man, maybe thirty and dressed in a suit with a burgundy tie comes by a moment later with a tablet on a tray and presents it.

“Good evening. I’m Guy.”

“Hi Guy. Violet.” I hold my hand out.

He looks surprised and takes it and shakes my hand.

“Welcome, Violet. Here. Some fun while you wait for Mr. Coulter.” He winks and sets the tablet down.

He touches the screen to bring it to life.

I see a poker app, a slot machine app, a menu, and a few other icons.

“Oh, I don’t know how to gamble.”

“I can help you.”

“Oh, well, I don’t gamble either. By choice.”

“Play money. Just play money,” he assures. “Some games we play here are just for play money because we’re not legally allowed to play for real. Just have fun. If you have questions, hit the help button and I’ll be right over, though Heidi might come, too. If she gets here first, know I’m comin’ up the rear, soon.” He winks.

I bristle at the obvious inuendo.

“If you change your mind and want to bet on any races or events, this icon will take you there.” He gestures to a logo styled like the G in Genesis outside on the building. “Let me just hit the g-spot here… Let me know and I can walk you through it.”

He winks again.

“You smell good, by the way, Violet.” He moves inappropriately close.

Guy is a very good-looking guy. He’s really muscled and has piercing blue eyes. His eyes traverse me like he likes what he sees.

My own eyes go back to the screen of the tablet so I can avoid his eyes. Red creeps up my cheeks at how inappropriate he’s being.

“Thanks,” I say and study the screen like my life depends on it.

“I’ll be back to check you out soon,” he says, and it has an almost sinister sound to it.

Before I can guard my reaction, my eyebrows knit, and I laugh nervously, still not looking at him.

He leaves, but I feel his eyes on me.

Wow. Unprofessional.

A moment later, Heidi returns with a tray holding a small platter filled with cheese, crackers, and grapes as well as a decanter of white wine and a tall glass.

I asked for rosé wine and no food.

“Oh, I didn’t want any food,” I say.

“You might change your mind,” she says.

“No rosé wine?” I ask.

“Oh shoot. I goofed. I’ll take it back. Shoot.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind white,” I tell her. “Thank you,” I say, and she opens her mouth to speak, but Alana, the blonde lady I was first introduced to is back and giving her a sharp glare. Heidi winces before hurrying away.

I see by taking in the room that every table has one or more of the burgundy tablets on them. A man at the next table taps a credit card to one. Another hands a wad of cash to a server, who  taps on her handheld tablet and then hands him a card she’s swiped on the side. I’m guessing the man loaded some credit onto a card to place some bets.

I see a soccer game on one wall-mounted television, horse racing on another.

Guy is back and swapping out my white wine for a glass of rosé with another wink.

“Oh, thank you.”

“My pleasure. I overheard the order and saw the mistake. I’d take away the food you didn’t want, but you should really at least try that cheese. It’s better than sex. Well, almost.”

“Thank you.”

From my periphery, I spot a well-dressed and attractive couple come in and a hostess leads them through frosted doors where I can see several poker tables set up, though only one seems to have a game going.

Guy heads into that room, so I turn my attention to the tablet in front of me and tap into the slot machine icon.

It starts me off with a big and dramatic spin to determine my free coins and the screen lights up with streamers and fireworks as I get awarded five hundred coins.

I take my time playing and the numbers go up at first and then plummet. Right before I get to nothing, I’m back up at five hundred. I take my time playing and nibbling on food from the fancy charcuterie board until I get down to six coins and look up and see that the place is busier. I glance at my phone. It’s seven o’clock.

“Winning?” Killian asks, sliding in beside me and leaning over to look at the screen.

“Not exactly,” I reply, my voice wobbling nervously. My face goes hot; he’s super-close to me, looking down at the screen and I catch a whiff of whatever cologne or bodywash he uses. He smells good.

“One more bet?” he asks.

“Yeah, why not?” I touch the button and suddenly the tablet turns all glittery with fireworks and balloons rising up the screen announcing my win. “Seven thousand? I won seven thousand coins?” I ask.

He smiles a wide grin at me.

“Did you make it win?” I ask.

He holds both hands up in the air. “How could I have done that?”

He shows me his hands and jiggles the cuffs of his shirt as if to prove there’s nothing up his sleeves.

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh.

He smiles brightly at me.

“Maybe you do that so people will stay longer and order more food and drinks even if they don’t want to bet on your betting games.”

Killian reaches over, grabs a grape from the platter and pops it into his mouth while giving me an absolutely boyish grin.

I’ve hit the nail on the head.

I’ve eaten half the platter of food and had fun while playing and people-watching.

I take a big sip of my second glass of wine. “Do you want to go?” I ask.

Heidi approaches. “Something for you, sir?”

“Take your time, Violet. We can sit a minute.  Heidi? An espresso for me, please.”

“Sure thing,” she replies. “A top-up for you, Violet?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

Heidi heads to the bar and Killian’s voice brings my attention to his face.

He’s smiling. “You gonna up your game now and start betting double?”

I shake my head. “I’m not a gambler. This is just play money, right?”

“Of course. If it weren’t, you’d be seventeen fifty richer. If you had the smarts to walk away, that is.”

“And I probably would. Actually, I might play until I got to 1500 just to see if I was on a winning streak.”

“But that’s the trap,” he says, leaning closer. “That’s how the house wants you to think. Then your blood starts pumping, the adrenalin courses through your veins and you ride the rush of it. Before long, you’re below fifteen hundred. Before long, you’re down to zero and putting your hand in your pocket to pull out more cash. If you were playing for real cash, that is.”

“And this is why you’ve got the gorgeous condo and the nice car,” I say.

He bops my nose with his index finger. “Bingo.”

He’s got a playful light in his eyes. And I’m feeling the wine already.

I’m staring at his mouth. His perfectly formed lips. His white smile. The fact that the bottom tooth below his right eye tooth is just ever-so-slightly askew from the other teeth. Not enough to draw attention, you have to look closely, but enough that he suddenly seems more … real. I’m paying way too much attention right now.

Heat floods my face. I look away quickly, realizing that not only am I closely staring at his features, but he’s also doing the same to me.

And his gaze has darkened.

I suddenly wonder how kinky he is. Maybe I should go to lunch with Debbie and Cammy again and see if I can find out what Debbie knows.

No, I shouldn’t.

I definitely shouldn’t.

This guy is an enigma to me. I have no idea why he’s being so nice to me at the same time as he’s so obviously intent on helping me with my Ray problem. Despite his expensive Ray problem, which obviously should be his priority.

“What are you gonna do to Ray?” I ask before I’ve measured my words.

His smile fades. There’s suddenly coldness in his eyes.

I shake my head. “Sorry, maybe it’s better I don’t know.”

He says nothing.

“I can’t believe I just said that. I don’t want anything bad to happen, I just… I can’t believe I let him do that to me,” I whisper.

“Do what?”

“Turn me into what I am now.”

He tilts his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

I shrug and sip my wine again.

Heidi puts down a coffee with a fancy design on the milk. “Sorry for the wait, sir. Mild emergency at table twenty-eight.”

“Customers always come first,” Killian tells her. “Though, this isn’t what I ordered.”

Her eyes go big, and she looks a little frazzled.

“Forget my order for a second. Need a manager?” Killian asks.

“Worse. But Alana is on it.”

Killian cranes his neck and I see Alana moving toward a table of three men, one woman. And she looks a little frazzled. Her eyes hit Killian as he rises, obviously gauging the situation might need some intervention, I think.

“Right back,” he says to me and moves in that direction. Two men are also flanking him, one being Guy, the flirting one who brought me the tablet.

It’s out of earshot, but my eyes take in that at least one of the men at the table is irate.

Killian speaks calmly at first and then folds his arms across his chest a moment later and the expression on his face is one that would make my knees wobble if I were standing. He looks positively pissed. He points to the table and then points to the door.

The guy who’s obviously the problem rises, quite a bit shorter than Killian, looking a little like (and acting a lot like) Joe Pesci did in Goodfellas, trying to puff his chest up like he’s a tough guy and then he leans forward and points to Killian, his index finger touching Killian’s shirt for not even a full second when I see two more men materialize from somewhere. The two men are even larger than Killian. Bouncers?

The irate man laughs and pulls out his wallet before he drops a stack of bills on the table and leaves; the woman and men with him follow.

That guy’s eyes land on me and he sneers at me before he pushes his way out the doors and is gone.

A lot of eyes are on the spectacle.

Killian says something to the bouncer-type to his right. The guy nods, mutters something to the guy on Killian’s left, then they both leave the building.

Killian puts his hand on Alana’s shoulder and says something. She looks like she’s ranting for a second but then pulls herself together and collects the bills from the table with the leather check wallet. She then jerks her head toward Heidi, who is still standing at the booth I’m in.

Heidi hurries toward her.

“Ready to go?” Killian asks when he gets to me.

I rise, reaching for my purse and quickly looping it over my shoulder, sticking my hand inside to drop my phone and fetch my wallet. I open it and pull out some money.

“No,” Killian says. “You’re not paying for your drinks.”

“Oh. Um… Okay, but I need to at least leave Heidi a tip.”

“I’ll leave Heidi a tip,” he says and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fifty-dollar bill, then mutters under his breath, “A tip to fuckin’ write down the orders so she doesn’t fuck them up.”

I laugh.

He rolls his eyes and then smirks before he drops it on the table and grabs my hand and we head toward the door.

He’s holding my hand.

“Killian?” I call out as we get to the door. The hostess is opening it for us.

“Great to see you, Killian. Have a great night. Best of luck tomorrow at Numbers.”

“Thanks, Jeannie. Keep Heidi in the back the rest of the shift. She’s fuckin’ orders up all over the place.”

“Right,” Jeannie says.

“Killian?” I repeat.

“Sorry. Yes, Violet?”

“The groceries,” I say.

He looks at me quizzically and then I see realization dawn.

Just then, Alana’s rushing toward us with the groceries in question in her hands. “Here. Forgot these.”

“Thanks, Alana,” I say.

“Nice to meet you, Violet,” Alana says.

“You, too.”

Killian leans toward her. “I want a report by the end of the night. Email me when you close. Call before then if you need to.”

“Will do,” she says and gives him a salute. “See you tomorrow at the opening.”

We get to his car and he opens the passenger door for me. After I’m inside, he closes it and sticks the groceries in the back.

“Heidi fuck your order up, too?” he asks.

I wince. “I didn’t want to get her in trouble. She was very nice.”

“She keeps telling us she’s got a photographic memory. She needs to take a photograph of the orders then because she screws most of them up.”

“She really did try.”

“Try? To talk your ear straight off?”

“Maybe she’d be better in a different role. She’s definitely keen though.”

“Hm. Yeah. Maybe back office would be better for her. How was everyone else there, tonight?”

“Everyone else?” I ask.

“Yeah. You deal with anyone but Heidi?”

“Oh.” I bite my lip.

He jerks his chin up. “What? I need to know something?”

“Guy is a little, um… inappropriate. Not, like, call the cops inappropriate, but, um… I don’t want to get him in trouble or anything, but-”

Killian throws his head back and laughs. “I know. Thanks for tellin’ me, baby. He’s harmless.” He laughs to himself some more, like he finds it hilarious.

16

Killian

The rest of the ride home is silent, but I can almost hear Violet’s wheels turning.

Two things about her struck me in the right way tonight.

One, the way she treated my staff. Never have I had a girl on a date and had her treat my staff so kindly, going as far as to attempt to tip one of them herself. Women on dates with me haven’t put their hands in their pocket since… maybe since I was about sixteen.  Even then, I was chivalrous with them. Holding doors, paying for things. But an attempt at doing something for themselves or me would not have gone unnoticed.

Of course this wasn’t a date I’d had with Violet, but despite that, it still speaks volumes about her personality.

The gambling thing, too. She’s careful and that’s smart. She doesn’t like to take uncalculated risks and she tries to calculate risk, even if something seems like it’s for free.

It’s not that everyone who gambles is careless, it’s just that her reaction to it all shows me more about who she is. Her reactions to me, too.

She’s unsure about me. She’s assessing things. Holding back her questions and studying me and my environment, the people I’m associated with. This is smart.

It’s also baffling – how Raymond Iadanza talked her into a relationship, I have no idea. She’s not a fucking airhead. Her spending three years with him makes me wanna think she’s a loser but I’m already sure she’s not. I just can’t figure it all out. Though, I intend to.

Was he that good of an actor? How did he sweet talk her that well? Is she just one of those people who believes in the good more than she listens to her own instincts? Did she not see any warning signs?

And the report and recording I got from Wes today, too - Violet didn’t seem cool with gossiping about me with those girls. I listened to the recording and she said very little and when it veered into dangerous territory, she made her exit. Not only that, but she also didn’t reveal anything about me, and didn’t push for more information either.

It was interesting listening to Deb talk about fucking things up with Dario. If I wasn’t absolutely sure he was done with her, I would let him know that maybe she was ripe for a second chance.

I know better. I also know through the grapevine from my brother who works for the Ferrano family doing security that Dare is moving on and he’s happy. I’m not about to fuck that up by dragging old Deb memories up for him. She put him through some real bullshit.

I’ve known my whole life I wouldn’t settle for a bullshit relationship. I watched my ma get kicked around and watched her go back to the same set of boots time and again. Sometimes a different set of boots but with the same results. She repeatedly got kicked. She’d send the good guys packing and always went back to her type. A boozing, loud, blue-collar type who treated her kids as if they were invisible and treated her like a discount whore.

Me and my brother suffered for it. A fucking lot.

Mostly me, at least physically. I shielded Will as best as I could and wound up the parental figure in his life even before she was killed. I was barely seventeen and – in my eyes old enough to look after us when she had her head caved in by a pair of steel-toed boots.

I didn’t let my kid brother see her on the floor in the puddle of her own blood and gray matter. Though that image won’t ever leave my own wretched brain.

I took care of us, immediately moved us outta that building, outta those four dingy walls and ramped up my efforts to be successful. I had help, too, didn’t have to do it all alone since Dario’s father fixed it so no one breathed down my or my brother’s neck about foster care or any of that shit. I was perfectly capable of looking after us. And I did.

My brother is working for that family to save up so he can go back to school, living in the little house I bought when I turned twenty-one and insisting on paying rent. He won’t let me pay for it - insists he’s paying his own way, just like I did. He makes me proud.

Good head on his shoulders. Wants a career change that has nothing to do with the degree he got out of high school. He just broke up with his longtime girlfriend and was broken-hearted for a bit, but he’s better off without her. She flirted with me relentlessly whenever his back was turned, and so I set a little trap to see how serious she was and told Will to watch. He was pissed at me, but he listened and watched. She was serious about getting her hooks into me. And as a result, my brother saw her true colors.

Another thing I noticed about Violet tonight was that she didn’t flirt. And that was further proof she’s a good girl.

Guy Tremblay has worked for me for over a year, starting out in the kitchen quickly proving himself. He’s my head wagering concierge and he is a ladies’ man; loves to flirt. Since the beginning when I first put him on the floor, Guy does this thing where he flirts with a girl I have on my arm when I’m not watching and then reports to me later to tell me how she responded. Calls himself the royal taster. He says he can taste a girl’s intentions five minutes into knowing her.

The first time it happened I was not happy, watching what felt like him trying to move in on my date. I figured he was an idiot and I was ready to not only fire him but kick his teeth in for it, but he quickly spoke, seeing me coming for him in the alley outside the club that first night. He spoke fast, lucky for him. Guy told me he could see I was pissed but said he did it because he has my back – that a man like me who had looks and money has to be careful with women. Dudes with money and no looks, they know why they attract beautiful women. Men like me with looks, cash, and charisma can’t be too careful – it’s hard to know where women stand. He tells me that he’ll help me figure out who’s genuine. He joked that he’s way better looking than I am, so he’s doing me that favor since women can’t resist him, but if they do, I’ll know I’ve got a good girl on my arm. I laughed it off, not trusting him but impressed with his fast-talking so I decided not to beat the shit out of him, instead decided to watch and see.

I rolled my eyes a couple times when he told me that he got results with girls I had with me. Though I laughed it off, he’s been right a couple times in warning about gold diggers I’ve dated. Not long after we met, I started watching surveillance with him and the women I brought around. He definitely knows his way around wooing a lady and it was eye-opening to watch.

Whenever I bring a girl in, he turns the charm on and lets me know what vibes he gets. He slipped by me and shook his head tonight with a thumbs up. She didn’t flirt back. It didn’t dawn until a minute after he gave me the thumb that he figured she was with me.

Everyone at the club likely figured she was – I bring girls around regularly, though it’s been a few months since I’ve brought anyone around, and Alana, particularly, who has appointed herself my unofficial big sister, seemed to be looking Violet over with scrutiny.

With the Amber bullshit we had to deal with tonight, she said nothing to me about it. I’m expecting it to come up in conversation tomorrow at the Numbers opening. She quizzes me about any women she sees me with and doesn’t hesitate to give me her opinion on them. It’s rarely positive.

I liked how Violet treated Heidi. I put her on Violet’s table intentionally to see how it’d go, knowing Heidi would fuck up and interested to see what Violet would do. The way people treat wait staff is very telling on their personality, in my experience.

Heidi kept screwing up orders as a server at another of my clubs, so we brought her in for some retraining as a last-ditch effort. She bumbles whenever I’m around with her little crush. As shitty of a server as she is, I’m sure my presence tonight made her worse.  I’ll call Alana tomorrow and suggest she offer Heidi an office job. If that doesn’t work out, she’s done.

Done like Amber, who I canned tonight for theft. She’s lucky I didn’t have her arrested. This was her second chance, and she blew it. I suspect she’s got an escalating drug habit. I asked her flat out and offered her rehab help. She denied it.

Tony told me he saw who dropped her off to work tonight and the guy’s a known thug and local small-time drug dealer.

So, either she’s a liar in denial about her habit or she’s just a thief therefore she is also barred from any of my properties and she’s been told that if she is found to be badmouthing me or my company in any way, we will belatedly press charges.

I pull into the parking garage at home and as I’m pulling into my spot, I turn to Violet.

“Did you bring any pretty dresses with you, by chance?”

Her eyes dart to me, flashing with confusion.

I turn the car off and she gets out before I get a chance to open her door for her.

I’m about to reprimand her for it when I stop myself. Because she looks uncomfortable right now for one. For two, she’s not someone I’m seeing, and it’s an understanding when I’m seeing a woman that she gets looked after in that way. No, I’m not seeing Violet in that way, though I seem to keep forgetting that part, and the word yet is on the tip of my thoughts.

“It’d be great if you’d do me a favor and accompany me to the Numbers grand opening bash tomorrow night. It’ll be a fun night. There’s gonna be a red-carpet press event and, I’ve been busy so hadn’t arranged to bring anybody.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t.”

“No one you’re even sorta seeing?” She’s looking directly into my eyes, as if searching for a lie.

“Not at the moment.”

“Oh.”

A perplexed crease forms between her brows and I wonder why. Did something give her the impression there’s someone in my life?

“Oh. Um, I don’t know if I have anything fancy enough here. It’s been a while since I’ve been anywhere… nice.”

“How much of a while?” I ask.

“Uh… so long I can’t even remember the last time.”

She deserves to be taken to nice places. Fucking ass-wipe Iadanza.

“I’ll buy you a dress. Shoes. The whole – whatever.” I gesture at her. “Accessories, whatever you need.”

She blinks in surprise and gives her head a shake. “I have a couple dresses with me. I didn’t exactly organize my stuff; I packed quick because we hit the road so fast. So, I can show you what I have and maybe you can tell me if they’re okay?”

“Sure,” I say. “But I’m happy to take you to a dress shop when we get up tomorrow instead.”

She blushes with shyness. “I have lots of work clothes with me, but I probably have a few party dresses. You might not have to go to that expense.”

“Let’s see, shall we? I had your room furnished today. Let’s go look.”

We’re now entering my condo and there’s  another point of intrigue about her – most women would jump at the idea of shopping on my dime.

She follows me down the hall to the room I had outfitted for her today.

We step in and she gasps in surprise as she takes in the new furnishings.

“Oh my goodness. This is beautiful, Killian.”

Her eyes are wide as she does a slow twirl to take it all in. Watching her do that with awe on her face hits me in the chest with a gust of heat.

I take in the space with her. It wasn’t quite done when I left the decorator here earlier. It looks good.

There’s a queen-size blue suede upholstered bed covered in a country quilt with half a dozen pillows.

Something about that quilt just made me think of her. My decorator was surprised at that choice as it’s not my usual style.

There’s also a matching chair in front of a small desk that faces the window.

A television has been mounted on the wall and a love seat and reading chair that match the bed (though in grey instead of blue) take up more space on the farthest wall, near the bathroom door.

The room has fresh flowers on one nightstand and new lamps on both.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says, staring at the wall with a funny look on her face.

“The room was empty. It needed furniture.”

She turns pink. “Oh. Of course. I mean, I know you didn’t just do it because I’m here for two weeks, but I just mean you didn’t have to get it all done today and - I’ll shut up now.”

“I didn’t do it just for you, Violet,” I lie.

She looks embarrassed.

“But I admit, I thought of you when I chose the decor.”

“I’m not gonna be here that long,” she says.

I say nothing.

I say nothing, because despite decorating the room in things I thought she’d like, I don’t envision her here long term. I’ve been  envisioning her in my own bed. And I’m not sure how I feel about that for a couple reasons.

“But… it’s absolutely beautiful.”  She looks at me with appreciation and there goes that tight feeling in my chest again. “Although…” she says.

17

Violet

“Although?” he prompts when I trail off.

“What’s gonna happen to me if Ray doesn’t pay you on time?” I blurt.

And I’m suddenly out of breath.

So much for playing it cool about all this debt and marker stuff.

Without missing a beat or flinching at all, he answers with, “I’m not gonna hurt you, Violet.”

I empty out my lungs with a very long exhale.

He seems genuine.

“I’m sorry if you’ve been stressed about that.” He reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear. I shiver and he pulls his hand back, his expression going wary.

I stare at him for a beat, then swallow, still feeling sensation on my ear from his fingers. “I can’t believe I blurted it like that.”

“Clearly, it’s been weighing on you.”

“I didn’t really think you’d hurt me, not with how nice you’ve been to me, but this whole thing isn’t…” I shrug.

“Good. Because I wouldn’t.”

“I just… I guess I’m trying to understand this whole thing.”

“What don’t you understand?”

I bite my lip for a minute. His piercing green eyes are on me, watching, also locking my eyes with his. It’s like he has some strange superpower or something.

“What if he does come up with the money?” I finally manage.

Killian looks at me with confusion. And then his expression hardens.

“If you don’t wanna be with that idiot when this is over, you don’t have to be.”

“I don’t,” I breathe, and I know that how much I don’t wanna be with him has to be written all over my face.

“Then you won’t be, Violet.”

My knees feel weak. I sit down on the bed. My hands on either side of my thighs, gripping the pretty farmhouse chic quilt.

My heart is racing.

“You’re relieved.”

“I want you to get your money back, Killian, I don’t want your kindness to him to be – taken advantage of, but I also don’t wanna be stuck with him. I’ve been wanting it to be over for a long time. And if he does come up with your money and thinks he can just pick up where things were left off…”

“If you say it’s over with him, then it’s over. Simple as that.”

“You don’t know Ray,” I say, eyes hitting my lap.

“I don’t?”

My eyes bounce up and he’s got an eyebrow cocked.

“I guess you do. I mean, you don’t know what Ray is like with me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, I just want him to go away. To leave me alone.”

“You don’t know me. If you knew me you’d believe what I’m about to say so do your best to believe it, okay?”

“Believe what?”

He squats in front of me so we’re eye-level.

“He’s done fucking with you, Violet.”

I swallow.

“Violet,” he says, and my name sounds like a command, a command to believe him.

My throat feels like it’s closing. Panic is setting in as his eyes, like  liquid fire blaze at me.

“He’s done fucking with your life,” he repeats again, as if to try to drive the message home.

“If… I’m not really a marker, not really in danger because of his debt, why are you keeping me at your apartment?”

“You are a marker.”

I flinch with confusion.

“Leverage,” Killian says. “Raymond needs to sweat. He needs to know what he did was stupid and no amount of childhood history would let that stand. I am not gonna let shit go. I don’t ever let shit go, Violet. This is why I am where I am today.”

I chew on my lip.

He continues talking, eyes focused on my mouth. “If he were a good friend of mine and pulled that shit with me it wouldn’t stand.” Killian’s eyes move up to lock with mine. “He is not a good friend of mine. We grew up in the same shitty complex, fucked around in the same playgrounds, and believe me, Violet, I had no respect for him the night he met you. I just happened to be at the same place he was.”

“He made it seem like you guys were tight.”

“Like I said, you see me in three years?”

I shake my head.

“Exactly. Before the night at your apartment, the last time I saw that guy was a month after he met you. Just happened to be at the same place at the same time again. And not a call, nothin’ in between until that night a few weeks ago when we just happened to be in the same sports bar. I was meeting up with someone for a business reason and he approached my table when that was done.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. There’s more there, but I’m not lookin’ to get into it right now. What you need to know today is that this thing gives me the leverage I want with him and nothing bad is gonna happen to you while you’re the marker, okay? And when it’s done, however it gets done, you’ll be fine. This is a means to an end for the both of us. Enjoy your time here away from him, knowing he’s no longer your problem.”

“Okay,” I say, not feeling so sure and having more questions. But before I can ask them, he sits down beside me and gestures toward the closet door.

“Now, should we assess your dress situation?”

I rise, wiping my clammy hands on my jeans and head into the closet. I sift through what I’ve hung on the rack until I find two dresses that might work. I want to ask him what’ll happen to Ray if he doesn’t pay, but I don’t know if that’s wise, so I decide to let it lie for now.

I step out with hangers dangling from both of my index fingers.

He eyes them and I can’t get a read on his expression. He stares for what feels like a long moment before finally speaking.

“Been a while since you’ve had a new dress?”

I nod. Are these that bad? I look at the one in my left hand, then my eyes bounce to the one in my right.

“Those are both gorgeous. You’d look great on any red carpet in either dress. But, I need to ask you to allow me to buy you a dress.  I want you to feel confident walking in there and I’d like to buy you a new dress as a little thank you for attending the opening with me tomorrow night.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

He flexes his jaw and draws in breath for what seems like a long moment before he answers. “You’re being cooperative about this marker business. It’s making my life easier. And I’ve got no reason to be not-nice to you.”

I stare at him for a moment. He waits patiently for my answer.

“Okay,” I concede.

“Good. Let’s go make dinner. I’m starving.” He rises.

“Okay. I’ll just – can I make a call first?”

“Of course you can. I’ll go get the groceries unpacked and start chopping some vegetables. You want me to pour you a glass of wine?”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m a little fuzzy from the two glasses I had already. I don’t drink that often. I might ruin dinner if I have more wine.”

He smiles. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

But maybe I need a little more liquid courage in order to spend more time with him tonight.

I’m feeling all sorts of nervous. My hands are clammy. My knees are wobbly. And I’m definitely feeling my nerves.

I head into the closet to hang the two dresses back up and then step back out and take it in again. This bedroom is absolutely stunning.

The bed is a pretty shade of blue, but the quilt is multicolored with raggedy ruffles in diamond-shaped patterns in rust, several colored ginghams, plaids, and solid colors. There’s a bouquet of flowers that’s just as whimsical and colorful. Country cottage or farmhouse chic style, which is in contrast to the rest of the apartment’s décor, but I love it.

The desk looks like something I’d have created myself with one of my upcycling projects. The drawers are all painted different colors and each drawer pull is different.

Above the bed is a beautiful wood palette-style art piece in grey distressed wood with a black dandelion sketch gone to seed. In pretty cursive script, it says, ‘Close your eyes and make a wish’.

“I always made wishes on dandelions,” I say aloud.  “Until Ray broke me.” I shake my head and whisper, “I’m gonna start making wishes again.”

I look at the art and close my eyes and then I blow lightly into the air toward the painting, as if blowing seeds off that dandelion, wishing that I could somehow always feel as safe as I do right now, right here in Killian’s penthouse.

I open my eyes. He’s in the doorway, eyeing me curiously.

I jerk in surprise.

“What was that? Meditating?”

“Not exactly.”

He watches me for a long moment and eyes the painting.

“You like that art?”

“I love it. It’s like you know me or something.”

His expression goes tense.

“Or your decorator, I guess.”

He smiles. And then he says, “Problem. I forgot chow mein noodles.”

“Do you have rice? Or even regular pasta will work.”

“Maybe. I’ll look. Come see what we’ve got to work with?”

“Sure.”

“Did you make your call?”

“No.” I wave. “I’ll text her though and tell her I’ll catch up with her later.”

“The bank teller?”

“Yeah. She wanted me to check in. She wants to make sure I’m okay.”

“She seems to care about you.”

I nod and feel melancholy about how much time I’ve lost with my best friend. How many things she’s been through in the past two years that I haven’t been there for. The minute I finally call her, she drops everything to be there for me. I won’t let her down again. I plan to tell her that, too.

“She’s amazing. We’ve been out of touch, but it’s been good to reconnect.”

“She called me today,” Killian says as I follow him to the kitchen.

And I’m shocked.

“She did?” I tuck my phone into my pocket.

“She did. She told me that he broke you, that she barely recognizes you.”

I wince. I told her that myself, but having her confirm it’s true – it hurts.

He keeps talking. “She asked me to make sure he doesn’t get a chance to keep doing it. Says she intends to get you put back together. Told me you used to be fun, confident, and light up a room with your smile. She wants that for you again. Says you’re beautiful inside and out, loyal, and that you deserve to be ecstatically happy.”

My chest feels tight. “What did you say?” I hate how hoarse my voice sounds. I clear my throat.

“I told her the business I have with Raymond should take care of everything. He shouldn’t bother you again.”

“She shouldn’t have called you.”

He shouldn’t bother me again? Why? Is Killian going to ‘disappear’ Ray?

He shrugs. “She cares. She wants to make sure you’re not being treated badly. She wants to make sure that I’m a decent guy. I am, by the way.” He smiles over his shoulder and he opens the door to the pantry, tacking on, “Mostly.”

I try to hide my reaction with a snicker as I follow him through a galley-style butler’s kitchen with another fridge, stove, and counters along each side with a double sink.

I guess this is the prep kitchen and the other one is more for show. I’m astounded; it’d be great for dinner parties where you hired a caterer and servers, I guess, but the dinner parties I used to have pre-Ray included my friends mulling around in the kitchen drinking wine or helping while I did the cooking.

Just beyond that, it continues to shelving on either side, stocked with food and kitchen gadgets and then opens up to a modern laundry room.  Everything is spotless and well-organized.

“This apartment is a dream,” I say, in wonder.

He looks over his shoulder at me. “Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

He smiles and gestures toward the shelf. “Rice. Or pasta. What’s better? Evidently, I have both. Four kinds of rice and three kinds of pasta. Patricia is evidently a doomsday prepper.”

There’s definitely a lot of food here. Enough for a large family to survive a while.

“You’ve got some angel hair pasta here, that’ll work fine in the stir fry. Unless you want rice.”

“Angel hair pasta sounds good. Sure you don’t want wine? I’m having some.”

“Okay, twist my arm.”

***

I’m three quarters through my glass of wine and dinner’s ready. We prepped together, listening to Motown songs on his sound system.

He asked what I wanted to listen to and his face split into a gorgeous smile at my suggestion. This made me feel rather self-conscious. Like I’d just passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.

And then Killian had all the vegetables and a cutting board, and I figured I’d have to give him a bit of guidance, but he started with a red bell pepper and then was chopping it in double-time speed, as if he’s a chef.

I stared, flabbergasted.

“Worked in a pizzeria before I got deep into the bookie business.” He winked.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Choppin’ vegetables? Like ridin’ a bike.”

He’d julienned two peppers in no time flat and then worked on an onion. “Used to take bets from the side door of the pizzeria. Old man Mr. V got pissed, canned me for it. A year later, he’s placin’ fantasy football bets with me.”

I snickered as I put on a pot of water for the pasta and lifted a wok onto the stove. “So I bet you can make a pretty good pizza, then.”

“Best pizza in Portland,” he said with confidence. And I found it incredibly sexy.

I told him, “I’d love to taste it sometime.”

“Then I’ll make it happen. Here, I’ll get the chicken done, too. I’ll chop it all. You just tell me how to spice it up the way you did last time. Sit down and enjoy your wine. And gimme those dimples a few more times, too, will ya? Oh, there they are,” he added, smiling in that boyish way again and then he diced up the zucchini.

I watched, fascinated as he did all the work.

***

By the time the stir fry is done, I feel quite a glow. A glow from the wine mostly. My cheeks are warm and a little sore from all the smiling. He’s been chatty and playful while he cooked dinner, and then as we begin to set the table, he pours me my fourth glass of wine.

“Tell me about your job, Violet. You like it?” He pours himself a glass, too.

“I’m a buyer for an information technology company. Yeah, I like it a lot, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. And I might be getting a promotion soon. They just gave me a raise out of the blue. And a bonus for doing a good job lately. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed the lift with all the… Ray stuff.”

He smiles big at me. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. How about you? Do you love what you do?” I ask.

He smiles. “I like making money. So yes.”

I laugh. “But, what about job satisfaction?”

“I’m satisfied when I see a healthy bottom line, so yes, I must have job satisfaction.”

I laugh again.

“You have job satisfaction?” he asks.

“I mean, if I had a choice, I’d be a philanthropist, trading my time for good instead of dollars, but you know…” I shrug. “It’s good. It pays the bills; I like the people. The company has been good to me. Especially lately.”

“Yeah?”

“I always go out of my way to save them money, to get products in faster, but out of the blue I got a bonus and a raise  when I was feeling pretty low… it was nice to feel appreciated.”

“Good,” he replies. “Sounds well-deserved.”

I beam with pride: I can’t help it. “So, you’re opening a fourth nightclub? That’s pretty awesome. How many more until you decide your empire is complete?”

He shrugs. “Probably get to six, sell the chain, and try something else.”

“Something philanthropic?” I ask, reaching into the wok and stealing a water chestnut, popping it into my mouth.

“It’s not out of the question. I’ll see where I’m at in my life. I have the website, too, under a second company, and if it keeps going how it’s going now, I’ll have plenty of options.”

“Options are good,” I say.

He reaches into the cupboard and grabs two large, white square plates and sets them down on the table. “No lightsabers, but I do have chopsticks.”  He fetches and sets out black chopsticks with purple flowers on the edges.

“These are pretty,” I say, carrying his wok over to the island.

“I bought them today. You need me to grab that?” he asks.

“I’m good.” I set it down on a trivet that I’d found while he was prepping.

“Philanthropy is nice, in theory, and I do give plenty of money to charity, but I like to build things. Grow things.”

“So, your next venture could be both,” I tease. “Wells and community gardens in underdeveloped countries?”

“Pot plants,” he shrugs. “Sweat shop.”

I laugh.  “Blood diamonds. That kinda thing.”

He barks out a laugh.

“Farmer Killian,” I muse. “Don’t you think that has a nice ring to it?”

He chuckles. Light is dancing in his green eyes.

“Maybe nicer than Overlord Killian. Wait, no… I like the Overlord idea better.”

“Ha!” I laugh hard. “I’m a little tipsy, sorry.” I sit at the table. “For real, though, when I was a little girl I wanted to marry a rancher with horses and chickens and grow vegetables and sell them from a little stand at the end of our driveway, chickens running around all over the place.”

He serves me and then himself. I watch as he does.

“Don’t be sorry for feelin’ the wine I’m supplying. You’re cute when you’re tipsy.”

“For now. Until I get all rowdy and stuff,” I warn.

He laughs. “So, chickens, eh? Babies runnin’ around, too?”

“Dunno. I think so. Maybe,” I say with a shrug.

“You against that idea now?”

“Nope. I’m not against anything if I’m with the right person.”

“Sounds like it could be a nice life,” he says, looking down at the wok.

“Dinner looks good. Let’s hope it tastes good and all my wine drinking didn’t muck it all up.”

“If it’s bad, I cooked it,” Killian says.

“Well, I directed you…”

“True,” he says. “Let’s find out if we fucked it up.”

Using his chopsticks, he plucks up a piece of chicken and holds it out for me to taste. Our eyes meet as the chicken moves closer.

My lips part and I manage to semi-daintily (I think; I hope) accept the bite, the whole time sure I’m going to fumble. Somehow I don’t.

I nod and smile with my mouth closed as I chew.

He picks up more chicken between the chopsticks and pops it in his mouth.

“Mm,” he reacts and sticks his thumb up. “We make a good team. Boss me around the kitchen anytime, Dimples.”

I smile again and then I sip my wine and dig into the food.

“So, tell me about your family,” I invite after I swallow my next bite.

He stares at his food and digs around before lifting up some noodles and a sugar snap pea.

And suddenly it feels like a wall has gone up between us. Maybe his family is a sore subject.

It’s about to be too long of awkward silence when he puts me out of my misery. “It’s just me and my younger brother. How about you?”

There’s a dark look on his face that tells me he doesn’t want me to continue along that line of questioning and the air feels heavy.

“Um, I have a younger brother, too, Cody. He’s in high school. My parents live about twenty minutes from here. Dad’s got a little auto shop and Mom is an accountant. Ordinary working-class family.” I shrug.

“You close with them?”

“I haven’t been the past two years because of Ray and how things were with him, but they’re good parents. I had a good childhood.”

I take another bite of food.

“He got in the way of a lot, didn’t he?”

Before I can answer, he speaks instead. “We’re having a nice meal here, so I won’t ask you questions about your relationship with him because not only do I not want to ruin your meal, but I also don’t wanna feel like I need to walk away from this meal to go find him and beat his fuckin’ face to a pulp, but I gotta say it surprises me you spent three years with him.”

The anger vibrating off him has me trembling suddenly.

And my appetite is just… gone.

“Sorry,” he waves. “So much for me not ruining your meal. I apologize.”

“It’s okay. I have a lot of stuff to work through. In the beginning, it was like … awesome. He was great. But he changed. Or… it was an act and he eventually stopped acting. I … I let him gaslight and manipulate me. You know what I mean?”

He nods. “I get it.”

“I don’t know how it happened. It’s like he methodically changed me. And not in a good way. First, it was like a love story. He was too good to be true. So sweet and kind and doting. Right in there with talking about the future, about the amazing life we were gonna have. But it wore off when he started with these…moods. And everything with him was always going wrong and it took me a bit to come out of denial, to realize he was the problem, you know? Then he dragged me down. I got to where I’d try to be a chameleon so I wouldn’t draw any attention to the flaws in my relationship with him and it was easier to withdraw, I guess. I fiercely defended him in the beginning when people started to tell me they saw things they didn’t like about him. How he couldn’t hold a job, how he screwed up with financial stuff. I always fixed it. Fixed whatever he broke. In the beginning, he was so sweet to me and we would have these long talks where we’d build castles in the sky and I believed we’d do it, too. I believed he had a string of bad luck, until it got too hard to believe that someone would just keep having that much bad luck, that there was just always excuses, too. Excuses for why he spent money outside the budget. Excuses for why we couldn’t go to my cousin’s wedding or my parents’ for Easter or why he didn’t want me hanging out with my friends, and just… constantly breaking things and hoping I’d fix them. And the moods got worse until he just got… like… permanently grouchy, probably because I started running out of ways to fix his problems.” I take a big breath. “In the early days, he was always trying to defend himself for things he thought people were saying and it got my back up with people who hadn’t even done or said anything wrong. He’d tell me they’d try to tell me I was too good for him, that he was afraid I’d believe it. And I was all, ‘fuck them’ and I was mad at them when they didn’t even do anything wrong because he’d get in my ear about people and plant these seeds. And then when they did start to say something at first I was so defensive because it was like he knew and would say things to me that they were thinking because he knew they were right. Only, I didn’t know that back then. He’d get in front of it and put my back up with everyone. He hid it well for a while and slowly, I backed away from everybody in my life because of him. I didn’t wanna hear it from them.  And I hate that I let him do that. It was how he felt about himself that projected all over everything, and I … I just feel really stupid that I let it happen.”

“Stupid? You shouldn’t feel that way.”

“I cared about him. In the beginning, I loved him. He fooled me into thinking he was a good guy with a long string of bad luck. Maybe he was a good guy, or trying to be a good guy. He had a lot of insecurities.  His family life really messed him up, I think.”

“That’s no excuse for mistreating you. That’s no excuse for being a waste of space, leanin’ on you to take care of everything for him and then treating you like shit because he felt shitty about what a loser he was.”

“Yeah. I didn’t see it soon enough. And then, I felt stuck. And I… I dunno… was convinced it’d go really bad if I didn’t find a way out of it carefully. Just…” I swallow and shake my head.

Killian continues. “By him treating you that way, by him making you think less of yourself, he figured he got hooks into you so that you’d stay. In the beginning, you probably stayed trying to help him feel better about himself, trying to stick by your man.”

I nod slowly.

“And by the time you figure out that it’s not worth it, that he’s not worthy of all your sacrifices because he doesn’t give up anything, doesn’t even try to be better, you’re broken, beaten down by him with no self-confidence. If he put half the effort into life as he did into excuses and blaming people, he could’ve made something of himself.”

I nod some more.

Exactly.

A tear trickles down my cheek and I pull my lips tight.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” he says in a husky voice. “I gotta tell you, beautiful girl like you, I didn’t get it. But just a little time with you and I’m starting to. To get it. To understand why you stayed. He fucked you over. You were loyal and he used it against you.”

“I feel like such a loser. He’d yell and apologize and then I’d forgive him. And then he was yelling and not apologizing, and I wasn’t leaving and I was just paralyzed by fear. I let him break me. Slowly. Bit by bit. I was loyal one day and before I knew it, I was broken.”

I swallow and now my eyes are swimming with so many tears the contents of my dinner plate are blurry. I grab my napkin and dab at my eyes.

“You’re not a loser, you’re a survivor. First, you were loyal to that fuck. A man gets loyalty from a woman who sticks up for him, who sticks by his side when he’s down on his luck, she deserves to be treated like a queen. He should wanna be better and do better, not drag her into the gutter with him. I’m sorry, I really am. Sorry you believed in the wrong guy and didn’t give up on him for way longer than he deserved. And I’m just sorry.”

18

Killian

Saying I’m sorry comes from somewhere deep in my gut because not only am I sorry she went through that, I’m also deeply sorry that I lost that coin toss.

I’m very fucking sorry, because what might she be today otherwise? She lost three years of her life being dragged down by that piece of shit.

Everything in her body language makes me think of her being a naïve, pure-hearted angelic creature being cheated and fooled by a demon. Instead of turning hard and cold, she shattered under the weight of her pain.

She hasn’t even said much about the relationship she had with him and already I know I wanna go rip his fucking face off.

And I wanna strip him of everything he has including any shred of dignity.

I want him to feel like less. I want him to feel like the fucking loser he is.

The stir fry is good. But we’ve both hit some heavy topics here that are affecting the appetite.

I take another two or three bites, forcing it down and notice she’s just staring into her food, pushing it around the plate with the chopsticks.

“I’m thinking all that wine ruined my appetite,” Violet finally says. “I’ll probably be hungry at midnight when I’ve sobered up. I think I’ll put this away for later.” She gets up, lifting her plate.

“I’m feelin’ the same. I’ll tidy up and then do you wanna watch a movie?”

“I think I’m gonna hit the hay early. That pretty new bed is calling my name. I’ll just help you clean up first.”

“I’ll clean up. You go ahead.”

“Are… are you sure?”

That frown line appears over her nose and I have the strange urge to kiss it away. I refrain.

“Positive. You get hungry later, help yourself to anything you like. Make yourself at home. I mean it.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“We’ll go dress shopping first thing.”

“Sure. Thanks. Um, ‘night.”

She awkwardly waves at me before twirling to head for her room. I head to the kitchen to put stuff away.

Dress shopping in the morning, with a girl I’m not fucking. I roll my eyes as I take out containers for the leftovers.

Yeah, there’s no way around dress-shopping if I’m taking her to the opening because neither dress will do.

One of the dresses she showed me is too damn sexy. Too much cleavage, too much leg. I didn’t like the idea of how many sets of eyes would be on that body of hers. Why I felt that way, who knows; I’m not usually that guy with women I’m dating and I’m not even dating Violet. But that red dress would not do for public. My only thought was that I’d much rather her wear it just for me.

The second dress… that one I can’t see on her. That’s the dress she wore in the club that night. Yeah, that night. The night he tossed the coin and strode up to her before lookin’ at me like he’d won and I’d lost.

I did lose.

I fuckin’ lost big.

Not as big as Violet Gates, though.

Yeah, I didn’t want her in that dress, reminding me of that night.

Maybe if I’d won or maybe if I’d refused the coin toss, I’d have had a dance or two. Maybe I’d have called her afterwards. Maybe it would’ve gone nowhere or maybe we’d be right where we are today but because we’d been together the last three years. Happy.

Who fucking knows? All I know is that I can’t stomach that she’s this broken because of that piece of shit.

Just as I’m finished with cleaning my kitchen, thinking on how great she looked in here in bare feet, smiling and drinking wine while helping me make dinner, wine-flushed in the cheeks as she giggled at me in that lilting voice, my phone makes noise. A text from Alana.

“Emailed you a report. Call me tomorrow to go over stuff. Not urgent tonight.”

I wonder if she has further information about the problems with that fuckhead who left trying to argue about his bill, the service, the food quality, even the booze tonight. I don’t know what the fuck that guy was all about, but it was more than the typical disgruntled customer. Everything about that situation told me there was more to it. I didn’t like it one bit, so I told Alana to make sure to tell Tony, my head of security, to keep all eyes open extra wide tonight.

The little fuck harassed the server, harassed his wagering concierge, accusing us of watering down the top shelf liquor, and then he was a dick to not only the manager trying to make things right, but also me, doin’ what he could to draw attention to his complaints on a busy Friday night. She told me she checked and nothing about his orders, even though his server was Heidi were fucked up.

Too bad the shithead didn’t pay with a credit card. I’d have liked to know who he is. I decide to call Alana to see if we can get the license plate of the ride he arrived in from surveillance.

We have surveillance at all our entrances and in all corners of our parking lot at each of my locations. I do not take any fucking chances with security.

I call her to find out what’s going on.

19

Violet

When I get to the guest room, I’m breathless, a little drunk, and more than anything, I’m mortified.

The mortification set in as words spewed out of my mouth out there when I heard myself, like I was outside my body and couldn’t make myself stop the spewing.

I don’t know what to think about everything. On one hand I feel stupid for projectile word-vomiting with Killian about my thing with Ray, how I let him turn me into someone I wasn’t. Someone I would feel sorry for.

On the other hand, I guess I just wanted to try to explain how it happened. I’m going to stop explaining it, though. With Susanna, too.

I can see them trying to understand but not getting it. Because they haven’t lived it. And maybe because I was just weak. With stars in my eyes at the notion of true and unconditional love. And then so, so fucking crushed when I found out it was all lies.

It hits me that I forgot to text Susanna, so I flop onto the bed, luxuriating for a moment in the feel of the soft and colorful quilt and all the pillows. At the happy bouquet on the nightstand. At the view out the wall of windows. I tip my head back and look up at the wish art on the wall over the bed. I can’t help but smile, despite everything.

I can’t afford décor like this, but I love this room, love the feel of this being my safe haven, and I now want to redecorate my room at home, when I can afford it, to look as much like this room as I possibly can.

Maybe I should move in with Susanna when her roommate vacates. Get a fresh start in a place Ray’s never been. Cut my bills and save a nest egg to buy a house of my own. Or a condo in the sky like this. I mean, like this but a tenth of the price, probably, so a tenth of the awesomeness.

The feeling of safety here, up high in this secure building with someone watching over me who won’t let Ray in my space? It’s a feeling that I could get used to.

But I won’t let myself get too used to it. After all, not this Thursday, the one after: it’s Ray’s deadline. Killian promised I’ll be fine, so I’ve got to try to believe that.

When I do get my room done, it won’t be anything close to this, not without this wall of windows, the amazing penthouse view of Portland, and the sumptuous furnishings, but maybe I can get a pretty new quilt and a painting for the wall that inspires me and reminds me that it’s good to wish, good to hope.

I felt pretty hopeless just days ago and now look at me.

Yeah. Look at me.

My heart lurches.

Me… running away from that handsome man in the middle of dinner because I drank too much wine and got too steeped in my emotions over how I let Ray ruin my life.

I’m going to claw my way back out, though.

I’m not going to keep acting like a victim.

I’m not going to keep letting my life be ruined because of things within my control, like who my partner in life is. I’d rather be alone than let myself get lost again like that.

Yes, I’ll have Killian’s help scraping Ray off because, for whatever reason, he wants to help me get Ray out of my life, and I suppose that’s not so different from me making the choice to go to the cops and file a restraining order.

In a round-about way, it’ll be the same result. Only I’m pretty certain Ray is way more afraid of Killian than he is of the police.

Killian Coulter has a commanding presence. But he’s not an asshole, not from what I’ve seen.

His employees didn’t cower when they saw him, like “Uh oh, here’s the asshole prick boss – better behave.”

He was greeted with respect and smiles that appeared genuine.

To me, that says a lot about him. Even if Ray is terrified of him.

Though, I have no idea what went down with that employee he had the theft problem with that caused us to go there tonight. How did he deal with that? Was she going to be taken to task the way Ray is being handled? Though, Killian said he doesn’t ever let things go. I have no idea what that’ll mean for Ray.

I shiver and decide to put it out of my mind for now.  The last thing I need are more thoughts torturing my brain tonight.

I don’t want to continue to feel sick to my stomach worrying. I can only handle so much at one time.

I tap into my phone to call Susanna.

She answers on the first ring.

“Damn. You’re not getting laid. Or did you already get laid? Please tell me he dicked you unconscious ages ago and you’re only now just revived enough to call me.”

I laugh a little. “No dicking. It’s not gonna be like that. I think he sees me like a little sister he’s gotta protect from the stupid bully.”

She grunts.

“So, why did you call him today? That’s not cool, Susanna.”

“Have you met me?” she demands to know.

I roll my eyes. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. I want it known that you’re not only a great person but a great catch and that no matter how much time you spent with that son of a bitch, his stench did not stick to you. It didn’t, Violet.”

I wish that were true. It probably has.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t get rid of it – I’ll bathe in tomato juice if necessary.

“What’s on tap for tomorrow? Wanna do something?” she asks.

“Tomorrow I’m going dress shopping in the morning because I’m going to a club opening with Killian tomorrow night. As a favor to him.”

“Mm hm.” The noise she makes isn’t just full of “I told you so” it’s also filled with delight.

“Just a favor. He’s opening a new club. Sounds like a fun place, actually.”

“Oh, I know all about Numbers. There’s a lot of buzz about it. It takes connections to get invited to that opening.”

“Yeah, so I’m going there just as a favor because he was too busy to find a date.”

“Too busy rescuing you and lusting after you?”

I ignore her, though I get louder, so she’ll know to stop it. “So tomorrow is definitely out, but, what about Sunday?”

“Sunday, mani pedis - my treat, at Coraline’s. Then brunch. Then facials at Mumsie’s.”

“Is Coraline’s open Sundays?” I ask. It never was before. It’s been ages since someone else did my nails.  I bite my lip. I’m going to have to do something with them myself for tomorrow night.

“It is these days. She’s saving up for her wedding. She got engaged.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. And the whole day sounds amazing.”

And it does. Susanna and her mom make the best homemade facials. I used to love going over once a week and getting those fresh kitchen-made facials. As great as they were, for me it was mostly about catching up, hanging out, and being with them.

“I can’t wait,” she says. “Have a great weekend. Text me a selfie tomorrow night. If you can, get your date in the picture too so I can ogle Mr. Hottie.”

“It’s not a date, Suse.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Violet. Love you.”

“Love you more.” I hang up before she can argue with that.

I deflate and stare at the ceiling for a while, playing the events of the day over in my mind before I get ready for bed.

20

Killian

I wake up feeling strange. I’m not in bed.

I’m in a bed. I’m just not in my bed.

The fuck?

I jackknife upright and see Violet’s large, dark eyes on me. She’s got her blanket pulled up to her neck. Her hair is spread out, framing her face by taking up the whole giant pillow. Her eyes are on me with alarm.

“What am I doing here?” I call out like an idiot, then I scrub my eyes with my palms. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I throw the covers back and stand up.

I’m in just a pair of jersey sleep shorts and they’re tented with morning wood.

Fuck! At least I didn’t put my hands on her this time. Or did I?

“It’s okay,” she squeaks out.

“It’s not. I can explain.”

Her eyes are on my junk. Of course they are. It’s pointing right at her.

“I’ll explain when I’m dressed.”

Because I threw her blankets back, I see she’s in a little camisole, short shorts, no bra. I can make out her nipples. Shit.  Fuck, but she’s got perfect legs. I see her navel, too. I need outta here.

“See you out there in a few. I’m gonna… go.”

She sits up so she can scoop the blanket back over herself to cover up and her hair is everywhere. And she looks fucking gorgeous.

I storm outta there.

***

I’m showered, dressed, and on my second cup of coffee when she emerges, looking tense, her big eyes on me.

She’s showered and dressed, too, in yoga clothes, but with makeup on her face. Her hair is damp, curly, and in a high ponytail. She looks cute.  She looks like she’s ready to go dress-shopping.

I pour her a coffee and pass it to her before I speak.

She hikes herself up onto the island. I’m behind it, standing and with both my palms resting on the granite, eyes on her.

“I sleepwalk,” I state.

“I kinda figured,” she whispers, looking up at me just briefly before blowing into her mug. She’s flushed. She can’t look at me. I’m not surprised.

“I haven’t done it in years,” I tell her.

“Oh.”

I run my hand through my hair, not liking how frazzled I feel. She’s not flipping out here; why am I?

A long moment of awkward silence passes until she puts her mug down and gives me her full attention.

And it dawns that I really fuckin’ like the look of her sitting on that counter, eyes on me, teeth embedded into her lip.

“I did it when I was stressed as a kid. I…  had some shit to deal with growin’ up and who doesn’t, right? I really didn’t wanna get into this. It’s highly personal so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself, but I’d get worked up and it’d mean I go wandering in my sleep, often putting myself between the bullshit and those that were vulnerable.”

“Like your little brother?”

“Yeah. I don’t want this information getting out there, so, please…”

“Of course.”

I lean forward aggressively. “I fuckin’ mean it.”

She jerks slightly but nods. “If you ask me to keep something between us, you can count on me, Killian. I wouldn’t ever betray a confidence, especially about something painful from your childhood. Not ever.”

I believe her. I believe her wholeheartedly.

And I really didn’t wanna fuckin’ get into this, but she needs an explanation for my behavior.

I stare. And I know I look pissed off. But she’s looking at me without fear, only concern. But I am pissed off. Because I could explain away waking up in my bed with her the other night but waking up in her bed has my head fucked up.

I take in a lungful of breath and blow it out slowly. “When stress got amped I’d sleepwalk, most often to get near to people in my life that needed protecting. And you’re someone that I seem drawn to protect right now, so …”

Her eyes go wide. Wider.

“I was protective over my little brother. Before that, my mother, but getting the shit kicked out of me for standing up for her and then her not lifting a finger to intervene… she lost that loyalty at some stage and I would just protect my brother.”

Fuck, why did I say that? I never tell people that shit. I keep on talking, though. “He used to come into my room if he was scared. He got teased for it by the jerk-off my mother was shacked up with, so he stopped coming in. I knew he was still scared, so if shit felt like it’d go south, I’d go to him. He was tryin’ to suck it up, so he’d tell me not to worry, send me away. Got to a point where I’d go to sleep in my room, wake up in his. I could take the shit Max would give me instead of Will and I guess subconsciously I’d just… walk there. Wake up on his floor.”

She nods.

Fuck, I’m talking too much. I’m saying names. I brought up my mother. And him. There’s a foul taste in my mouth and I wanna spit, even puke my guts up to get that taste, that fuckin’ name outta my mouth.

Instead, I push it back. I tell it to fuck right off. I lean toward Violet again, probably too aggressively.

“Twice, I’ve sought you out. First time, thought I was seeking out my bed. Last night, sought you out anyway, even though I’d never slept in that room. And now that I think on it, I had a bad dream. Something happened to you. The shit stain was responsible. That’s why I must’ve climbed in to be near you. Make sure you were all right.”

She nods again.

“So, I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

I raise my brows.

“You didn’t, Killian. I knew it was sleepwalking or something because I woke up and you were just there. You were holding my hand and you had an arm around me. It wasn’t sexual like… like the night before.” Her face goes red with embarrassment. “It was more…protective. And that makes sense based on you talking about protecting your little brother.”

I swallow a mouthful of coffee so that my reaction, whatever it looks like, will be hidden by the mug.

She keeps talking. “I was startled when I woke up, so I pulled my hand back and that’s when you woke up.”

“He hit you?” I demand.

She jerks back.

“He ever hit you?”

She shakes her head but she’s not looking at me.

“You being honest with me?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Did Iadanza hit you, Violet? It’s a simple question.”

“It’s not a simple answer, Killian, and I don’t know why you’re asking.”

“I’m asking because if he never did, and I know that, maybe it’ll take shit down a notch for me.”

“He didn’t.”

“No?” I don’t believe her. I don’t think she’s lying exactly, but I don’t think she’s telling me everything. I stare until she speaks, which takes a good two minutes.

“He used intimidation tactics. Cornering me. Screaming in my face. Breaking things. Acting like he would hit me. But he didn’t actually strike out and land any blows. Sometimes he’d pin me while he screamed at me. Sometimes he’d hit a wall beside me. Some other stuff, I… I’m not gonna say anything else here because you look like you want to hurt someone.”

I stare. I’m seething.

“Abuse is abuse. Physical, emotional.”

“I know,” she whispers.

“Again, I apologize, Violet.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “Really.”

I put the mug into the dishwasher. “I have a couple calls to make. Go ahead and have some breakfast. You okay to go do the dress shopping thing in about an hour?”

“Sure,” she says. “Unless you don’t have time or don’t want to…”

“Just gimme an hour.” I try to give her a smile, but it probably doesn’t come across as genuine, so I huff and head to my home office so I can check in on things for tonight, so I can get some space and sort my head out.

So I can refrain from hauling Iadanza in and beating his face to a pulp.

So I can stop myself from stepping in front of her on that counter, pulling her to me by the hips and kissing her. Feeling her in my arms, my hands in her hair, taking her sounds into my mouth.

I knew that first night in her apartment that I felt protective, but this sort of protective instinct, it’s a little boggling to me. It’s got to be because I feel so responsible for what happened to her.

Maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I should just set her up somewhere new where he can’t fucking find her, hire her some personal security for back and forth to her job until the two-week deadline is up and see how things shake out after that.

Maybe I shouldn’t take her shopping and then have her on my arm tonight.

Maybe I should distance myself from this.

I’m feeling like I’ve got a personal stake in all of this and really, I don’t. Except that Raymond Iadanza fucked me over for money and I have to deal with that. But it’s only because I made it completely impossible for him to not be in the position he’s in right now.

Why? Because he won her and fucked her over, I guess. I’m pissed at myself for even participating in that and now I’m on a mission to – what?

I don’t know. That’s the problem. What’s my end game here?

I grind my molars in frustration.

Speaking of Fuckface, I need to know what he’s up to. He’s not trying to borrow money from anybody I know. I’ve got his name circulated among other men like Hennessey. He’s barely left that apartment.

He hasn’t skipped town either, so I’d like to know what the fuck he’s up to. I’m paying for Wes Traynor to tail him all weekend. I’m thinking I’ll have him tailed until this is over – however I end it.

I originally wanted to drag it out so he would feel the pressure.

Now I’m feeling like I’m being put through it, too.

It’s only been a little over 36 hours and I’m wishing I’d only given him a week instead of two so I can get this fucking thing with him over with.

No. I have to learn more patience.

I know I do. I’ve been better the last few years, but I’ve got a long way to go in the patience department.

My grandmother told me I was the most impatient person she had met in all her years, and she tried to drill it into me that sometimes you had to wait for things for reasons that didn’t make sense – until later when sometimes those reasons would be clear. She was a tough old woman, and she’d had a rough life,  held a lot of wisdom. She told me when I was a kid that when she died she’d try her best to convince The Big Guy to let her be an angel who’d watch over me and not just so that I wouldn’t feel alone – also, so she could teach me patience. Because she was sure the patience she’d shown with my impatience would surely earn her some wings.

“Hindsight is 20/20, my boy, but you don’t have to always wait for stuff to be over to catch that. Watch for signs around you, Killy. Watch and see those signs to know you should slow down and think. Sometimes you have to wait for things. So while you wait, you plan. You plan your next move. You ready yourself through dark times for a brighter future. What you don’t do is get impatient and angry, it serves nothing.”

She’d lost her first husband a month after her honeymoon and married another man who was a womanizer and a cheater, so she raised her three kids including my mother alone. One of her sons wound up dead in a motorcycle accident just like my father and the other died of cancer. And there was my mother, a weak person. My grandmother was always frustrated with my mother’s weakness.

My grandmother hadn’t told us she was dying of Cancer; she hid it. Didn’t seek out treatment, either. Pissed me off so much. She was a stubborn woman, but I fuckin’ loved her and I was so angry trying to figure out why this fighter wouldn’t fight. And in hindsight, she spent a lot of time in her final months trying to get certain ideals to penetrate through my shield of anger about my home life. About the shithole I lived in. About how my mother wound up with loser after loser with no care for herself, our apartment, the food she fed us or the clothes she put on us.

And after Nan died, life got worse. Much worse. Fewer clothes. Less food. Holes in our shoes. Because we didn’t have anybody but our mother and she wasn’t good to anyone, she was that broken.

Luckily, I’d not only practically raised myself and my little brother by that point, but I was old enough to keep doing it. My part time job at the pizzeria bought us shoes, jeans, paid for school trips. My boss always sent food home with me, too. And then I started bookmaking and the money got better. And I was smart with it.

And through it all, through the early days without her, through the days after my mother was killed, Nan did show me signs that she was up there teaching me lessons. And I tried to emulate her strength in being there for Willie while making plans for my future while I waited to finish growing up.

As an adult, I seem to hit just about every red light wherever I go, whatever route I take. Unless I’m in my own condo where I have a key for an express elevator, the elevator always takes forever. I always find myself with long lines ahead of me. In life, it seems I am constantly faced with challenges that let me know I have to be patient to get what I want.

Is it Nan that’s making the lights go red? Maybe. Maybe not. But the seeds were planted, and I pay attention and do my best to use waiting times and drawbacks to my best advantage. It’s paid off many times. I watch, I pay attention. I plan.

Two weeks, as planned with Raymond. I have to be patient to get what I want.

But just what do I want here? That’s the question.

***

I knock on her door an hour later and hear her call out for me to come in.

She’s sitting on the desk by the window. Not the chair. She’s perched on the desk the way she’d been perched on my counter before.

“You good to go?”

“If you want to,” she replies, voice mostly meek.

She looks like she’s flipped out, but trying to hide it.

I lean against the door frame. “Yeah, I’m ready. You need time, or?”

“I’m good.” She heads to the closet. She returns, wearing a purple jacket, freeing her ponytail from the collar and then she grabs her bag and loops the strap over her shoulder.

I resist the urge to grab her hand.

What is it with these urges I keep getting where she’s concerned?

The inner monologue should be telling me things I don’t want it to tell me, things about how she’s been with Iadanza for three years and I shouldn’t let any emotion get in the way beyond the need to save her from him and the need to punish him for doing what I intended him to do – be indebted to me and in a way that’s reason for punishment because he knowingly fucked me over.

The inner monologue should list out the bullet points – the reasons I shouldn’t be interested in Violet Gates.

But I can’t even conjure it up. It’s like there’s a greenscreen playing a dream sequence blocking the facts - that he’s put his hands on her, that she’s broken and abused, and that she spent three fuckin’ years with that loser. What part of that would suggest I should pursue her?

Those thoughts won’t penetrate because instead I have all these urges to protect her, to be close to her, and obviously, to touch her.

It’s taking effort to keep my hands off her, to keep my mouth off her, too. I have the overwhelming urge to get lost in her like she’s only ever been mine, never his, never anyone’s. Especially never his.

I dreamt last night that old dream where I walk into that shitty apartment, even smelling that old smell of the halls and the apartment itself. Smoke. Beer. Urine. Despair. As always, in the dream I hear the water running, see it leaking over the sink and dripping down onto the kitchen floor with my mother’s body in a crumpled heap, red trickled out, her face crushed in, the grey-matter smeared across her cheek.

But when I stepped in and then sidestepped to block Willie, who wasn’t a kid like he always is, who was instead the bank teller Susanna, the heap on the floor with the grey smear on her cheek was Violet. In the dream, I knew it was Raymond, not Max, that was responsible.

***

Less than two hours after we go, we’re back at my place and my dick hurts.

We walked there and back; there are several boutiques in easy walking distance of my condo. Violet was astounded at the amenities I’ve got in my neighborhood and I told her that was one of the reasons I picked it.  The view, the space, the neighborhood. And I tell her this like I’m trying to sell her on the place and that pisses me off.

I hate that how much she likes my place pleases me so much. And I’m not the type to have conflicting feelings about anything. I either like you or I don’t. I either want you or I don’t.  But I wanted her from the minute I saw her and here I am denying myself – something I never do.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the used bookstore down the street and she skipped for a few paces, while she talked about how she could live there. Seeing that skip, the light in those eyes, those adorable dimples on her cheeks that only come out sometimes – like they’re a gift – reminded me of the glimpse I got of her three years ago.

That was on the way there. I would’ve offered to let her stop in on the way back and saw her bite her lip as we passed, straining to look through the window, but I said nothing. Because I was brooding over the tightness in my pants and the matching sensation in my chest.

Why does my dick hurt? Because I’ve had half a hard-on all fucking day. Instead of me sitting and answering emails like I’d planned while she shopped, only being there to pay when she was done, Violet insisted on showing me all the dresses that the salesgirl gave her to try on, so I could decide which one I wanted her to wear tonight.

And I’ve been around women playing this sort of game, looking to tempt and tease me, fishing for compliments and hard-ons. But this wasn’t a game. This girl was doing this innocently and now my nuts are turning blue.

And I could swear the dress shop girl and Violet are gonna be best friends because that salesgirl took to her like a big sister who knows just what she should wear based on not only the occasion but on what Violet looks good in.

Every one of those dresses made her ass look perfect, made her tits look great, and made me wanna drag her into the change room and throw the curtain over.

I bought all four dresses she tried on. With three pairs of shoes. It was nearly four, but she fought with me. She threw attitude at me with her hands on her hips when telling me that she could wear the one pair of shoes with all the outfits and that she really didn’t need four dresses.  Seeing that little bit of sass in her made me wanna grab her, throw the curtain of the changeroom over both of us so I could grab her by the ass and grind her into the full-length mirror. I swear I could almost feel her heat around my cock when I saw that sassy look in her eyes. I finally relented by randomly picking a pair and tossing them aside, telling the salesgirl to ring the rest of it up.

Violet’s chin dropped in shock like she couldn’t wrap her head around that. Neither can I.

She looked like she was going to argue with me and then looked like she was pouting and I demanded, “What’s wrong?” but then she pulled her lips tight and shook her head, so I threw my credit card at the salesgirl and told her to hurry.

Violet’s been quiet coming back while I carried her bags.

And I’ve been quiet, too. Stewing in my broody mood. Because she was a knockout in all four dresses. Because she looked timid while she showed me what she was wearing – hope in her eyes, I’m guessing, that I’d approve. Also because I had the urge to hold her hand walking there and back, but didn’t and it fucking annoyed me.  It annoyed me that I had the urge and then it annoyed me that I felt like I couldn’t act on my urge.

And while we were in the dress shop, I got a text from Wes, requesting a call, so I wanted to get back, get out of earshot of Violet, and find out what Wes had to say.

***

After we get back to my place, I retrieve a package delivery from the floor by my door and she follows me to her room where I set the shopping bags down.

“So, which dress-” she starts.

“Wear the gold one, please,” I say. “Black stilettos. Unless you’re more comfortable with one of the others?”

“I like them all,” she says softly. “But I didn’t need four dresses. Though, the one pair of shoes you tossed aside were actually my favorites out of all four pairs. That one pair would’ve been good for any of the dresses.”

She’s not looking at me.  I’m not surprised. I’ve been a surly fuck all day long.

I blow out a huff. “Be ready at six fifty. I have shit to do between now and then, so meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready to go. There will be food there but there’s gonna be a lot of booze flowing too so be sure to eat before we go.”

“Okay,” she squeaks.

I leave, thrusting my hand through my hair in frustration as I go.

***

“Killian? Wes here, hey,” he greets.

“Hit me,” I return, eyeballing the decanter of scotch on the side table and then glaring at my watch because it’s definitely too early to drink.

“Iadanza bought a handgun from a pawn shop called Sully’s. They’re not the most above-board pawnbroker in the area.”

“I know Sully’s. And fuck.”

“Yeah, man.”

“Anything else?”

“Watched his web surfing habits. Nothing clear on what he’s planning. He’s surfed some porn, played some online games, and logged into his bank account. Went to the bank and took out the last twenty-seven bucks in there. Headed to the pawn shop and bought the gun. Traded for it with a hundred bucks, a laptop, a shitty diamond ring, and a gawdy gold watch. Still watching. Still following. Though he has no cell and no longer has a laptop unless there was another one in the apartment, so can’t watch his web habits any longer.”

“Right. Got it. Diamond engagement ring?”

“Yeah. I’ll forward pictures to our shared cloud. You can check everything out in about ten minutes. He’s on the move so I’m on him.”

I say goodbye to Wes and stare out the window, drumming my fingers while I ponder the facts.

Is Ray planning a hold up? Is he planning to shoot me, try to take Violet back? Where’d the engagement ring come from? She was adamant she hadn’t had one.

Pawn shop. I told Violet I’d get her jewelry out for her. It’s not in at Sully’s but the shop logo on the ticket has an address that isn’t that far from Violet’s apartment.

I decide to go down there. But, before I go, I check in with Alana and Craig. Alana manages Genesis for me and oversees the managers for my other locations. Craig will be my manager at Numbers. They’re both there, with the party planner and the rest of my staff setting up for tonight.

I grab the package, my gun, make sure I’ve got the pawn ticket, then I leave.

21

Violet

I hear a door slam, so I poke my head out. Killian must be gone out somewhere.

I wander out to the kitchen and pour some orange juice, side-eyeing the leftovers from last night. I’m not sure I can handle any food right now, nor the memories of last night’s conversation.

The fridge is stocked with healthy and not-so-healthy ingredients. Killian is fit, clearly takes care of his body, but the fridge looks like it’s stocked for both a health nut as well as a junk food junkie. I see refrigerated cookie and biscuit dough, a jar of queso, guac and three kinds of ice cream in the freezer, and of course there are two quarts of flavored creamer. And again, that creamer makes me wonder if he knew I was coming here with him that night – if he bought those in preparation for that. He seems like a strategic guy and that makes me believe that my hunch is correct. That was no knee-jerk reaction at my apartment that night to bring me here as a marker.

Killian has been angry all day so far. Waking up in bed with me this morning and whatever dream he had last night put him in a foul mood.

Though, as grouchy as he was both before we left as well as while we were out, it didn’t feel the same as the way Ray used to get. I didn’t feel like I was tiptoeing on broken glass, trying not to draw blood.

After putting my coat on, juice in hand, I head out to the balcony and curl up on a lounge chair whose cushions are cool and damp and should probably be stored now that the weather has turned. Despite the chill, I feel a strange sense of self-awareness I haven’t had in some time as I admire the view, as I ponder things, including how strangely comforting it was to wake up next to him – having that feeling of safety.

My judgement feels so clouded though.

Tomorrow will be good, getting to hang with my best friend for the day. I should go see my parents soon, too. I’m thinking I’ll wait until this is over with, this two week … thing. As tempted as I am to put Mom’s mind at ease by telling her I’m on my way toward being Ray-free permanently (I hope), it’s premature. I should wait until that page has fully turned. When I get to go home, when I know Ray is out of my life, I’ll tell them then.

I surf social media on my phone and see a funny joke, so I forward it to my mother and tell her I’m thinking of her and hope to visit soon. She replies that she and Dad are leaving tonight, heading to their time share for two weeks. She says Cody is staying with my grandfather and has her car. She’ll make plans when she gets back for us to get together.

I smile and hope that by then, I can tell them Ray is out of my life.

Feeling the cold, I decide to go in, but before I do, I spot a deck box and finding it empty, I take the cushions from the two lounge chairs as well as the accessories from the patio table and put them all away before going back inside and grabbing a broom and dustpan to sweep up all the stray leaves.

22

Killian

“When did he leave?” I ask Wes.

I’m parked in a visitor’s spot a couple cars away from Violet’s empty spot at her building. I’m driving my Macan  today; Ray doesn’t know this vehicle – or he shouldn’t.

I get out and lean against the driver’s door, phone to my ear.

“Thirty-six minutes ago,” Wes informs.

“Where is he now?”

“Library, four blocks away. He’s checking his email and there’s nothing interesting in there, but not five minutes ago he was on your website, reading a press release with details of tonight’s party and jotting them down on a scrap of paper.”

I suck my teeth as I process this. What is that fucker planning?

“I’m goin’ in.” I push off the car and head for the entrance to the building. “Text me when he’s on the way back. I’m planting bugs in the apartment.”

“Coulda got me to do that for you.”

“Some things I need to see to myself. I’ll get you the details so you can link in.”

“Got it. Cool, man.”

I hang up and slip into the building using Violet’s key.

I enter her apartment. The door is unlocked, which pisses me off. Fucker doesn’t give a shit about her belongings? When I get the door open, a stench hits me. The stench of a fucking loser.

It’s a combination of stale beer and desperation. The place is a mess.

The closet door inside the entrance is open and trash bags filled with clothing have been torn into. Clean-looking clothes spill out, folded - unwashed rumpled clothes litter the area around it.

I shake my head. Violet carefully packed for him to go. The fucker got packed folded clothes, not his shit thrown out the window like he deserved.

This place was clean when I visited. It’s trashed after just a couple days of her not here.

Dishes. Beer cans. Mess. Things have been rifled through. Violet’s things.

I quickly plant my tiny cameras in the return air vent on the ceiling over the kitchen cupboard pointing at Violet’s red couch.

I do my own snooping.

Kitchen drawers. I grab the light-up chopsticks and tuck them into my coat’s inside pocket.

There are some photos in a junk drawer of her and Raymond looking happy, him with his arms around her. There are magnets on the backs of them. These used to be on the fridge, I’m guessing. If the fucker didn’t notice she stuffed them in a drawer at some stage, his bad – because that’s a sign he shouldn’t have ignored.

In the first picture, she’s looking at him and he’s looking at the camera. And the way she looks at him? Fuck. I wanna find him and gut him for having that. I fling the pictures back into the drawer and head to the living area where I find a photo album on the coffee table opened up to the middle. There’s also a basket under the coffee table with all sorts of shit spilling out, obviously having been rifled through. Pictures, ticket stubs for an amusement park, a loose stack of pictures of them together with snapshots from road trips, a ski trip. One of her in ski gear on a bunny hill with a goofy look on her face. I lean back on the couch as I eyeball another snapshot, this one of her in a bikini with her eyes crossed, being goofy again. I catch myself smiling.  It’s appealing that she doesn’t take herself so seriously. I shift and hear a crinkle. I find I’m sitting on an envelope. I lift it and look inside. A set of boudoir photos. These though, not goofy. Serious as a heart attack. Serious as a crime scene, which I wanna create because of what I see.

8x10 pictures of her in black lace lingerie, wearing red heels and red lipstick, holding a red heart balloon that says, “Love, Your Valentine.”

Rage rises up in my gut. And I don’t fucking know why. These pictures aren’t new, not from this year anyway. But that she did that for him for Valentine’s Day a year or two ago manages to set my blood to boiling.

The fucker broke her. She did shit like this for him, and he treated her like shit.

The boudoir shoot includes snapshots of her on her elbows and knees, blowing a kiss at the camera. A black and white pic of her on the bed, fisting the sheets, hair spilling over the pillow like a goddamn halo around her gorgeous face. Like this morning when she was in bed beside me.

Right now, I wish I could go back to this morning, to when I opened my eyes and saw her. I wish I could go back to that moment, roll over onto her, and lose myself in her.

There’s weight to the envelope even though I’ve got the snapshots, so I flick the envelope open and look inside. A stack of Polaroids in the bottom. My gut churns as I pull them out.

Nudes of Violet.  Explicit ones.

I growl.

He’s been sitting here reminiscing over pictures of her that he doesn’t deserve to even look at. She should’ve set his shit on fire before she tossed it out the window, not packed everything neatly and driven to the airport to pick him up knowing she was ending it. Or in her words, gonna try to end it.

There’s another album in the basket filled with pictures of a younger Violet, pre-Raymond, I’m guessing. Pictures of her and her friends. Her on another vacation. Snapshots of her with her family. With Susanna Gagne.

Smiles and light in her eyes that’s now missing.

I drop the album and look around.

He’s desperate.

He’s desperate not just because he knows he fucked me over. He’s desperate for her.

Is the fucker sorry for what he did? Does he think he’s still entitled to keep her despite how he’s treated her?

Is he desperate enough to use a gun to try to eliminate me as a problem in his life? He owes me money. I owe him retribution. And I have his woman.

Correction. I have Violet. She hasn’t been his woman in a long time judging by all I’ve seen, not to mention the words that’ve come from her mouth.

Maybe he’s planning on holding someone else up and bringing me the money tonight. Not sure, but eyes will be on him.

I head into the bedroom and it’s trashed. Drawers open with Violet’s clothes hanging out. I’d bet hard cash that it didn’t look like this when she and I left the other night so clearly he went rooting through her stuff.

I plant another camera at the side of the frame surrounding the mirror over her dresser, pointing at the bed. Another mic inside the fabric hem of the lampshade on the table beside the bed.

And I look around.

He fucked her in here. I grind my teeth together at the mess of this place. Your bedroom is supposed to be a shrine to the love you have for your woman.  Not a place to drop your dirty fucking clothes, to sleep on the mattress with the sheets half hanging off – not unless they were pulled off because you were energetically giving your woman an orgasm.

For a half a second I’m feeling like he needs to be booted from her space.

But then I realize that this isn’t her space anymore. It’s tainted by that jackass. I don’t want her coming back here. It’s too filthy for her.

My phone rings. Wes Traynor.

“Hey.”

“He’s left the library. Looks like he’s heading in the other direction. I’m on him, though.”

“Cheers.  Everything’s set in here. I’ll send you the details so you can watch him in here. 24/7. You have double the budget I already gave you to put extra people on it.”

“Roger. I’ll talk to Zack.”

I hang up, slip out, and lock up.

I take the envelope of photos with me.

23

Violet

I’m freshly showered, still wrapped in a towel, when there’s a knock on the door. I poke my head out of the closet.

“Killian?” I call out, and he opens the door as I’m adding, “One sec-”

He freezes. “Shit, sorry. I heard my name and -” His eyes sweep over me. I’m in the doorway but from this angle, he can see all of me.

I clutch the towel at my chest.  “I should’ve said one sec before I said your name.” I back into the closet a little more, hugging the door frame, but it doesn’t matter – from his vantage point he has a perfect view of me.

“I’ll see you out there.” He jerks his thumb back, but he’s not moving.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

It takes more than a beat before he answers, “You bring your laptop with you?’”

I shake my head.

“Looks like he pawned it.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s okay. He damaged it and my sound didn’t work. I was planning to get a new one.”

“It’s not okay, Violet.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

He flexes his jaw muscles. “You eat something today?”

“Not yet.”

His eyes move down to my bare legs.

This towel is short. Really short. My toes curl into the fluffy rug and I feel like I want to shrink under his appraisal.

My comments to Susanna about Killian viewing me like a little sister?  That’s not how he’s looking at me right now.

“I’ll heat that food from last night up for us before I take my shower. See you out there in five?” His eyes lazily travel back up to my face. He’s waiting for my reply.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He shuts the door.

As much as he apologized, he didn’t look sorry as he looked at me. He looked at me, taking his time, like he had every right to do so.

As I slip further into the closet and close the door before I drop the towel, I note my nipples are tingling. I shake it off and slip on my bra and underwear, then I put my robe on. I towel dry my hair and go into the bathroom to mousse it before I head out to the kitchen and see him setting things up for us at the dining table.

“Did you…” I begin to ask as I approach, eyes on the Star Wars chopsticks.

“I stopped by your apartment. Picked those up.”

“Was he there?”

“No.”

I meet him at the sink so I can wash my hands, which are sticky from the hair mousse.

“How’d you get inside?”

He reaches into his jeans pocket and puts my keys on the counter.

I frown.

How did he get these?

“He left your door unlocked though. Stupid fucker.”

“I had the locks changed. I guess he had no choice.”

“Well, I guess he’ll have to break in when he gets back there again, then, because I locked it on my way out.”

He reaches for his jacket that’s laying across a chair and produces a zippered sandwich bag from the inside pocket.

It takes a second to realize what I’m looking at. My jewelry.

I gasp as I lift it and tears fill my eyes.

I feel so much relief, I throw my arms around him and my face is smushed against his black shirt for a second before I back up, realizing I kind of threw myself at him and he didn’t hug me back, he just stood there.

Heat floods my face.

His eyes work over me.

“Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“You won’t.”

“I-”

The microwave beeps.

“Sit. Food’s ready.”

I blink. I’m feeling kind of mortified.

“Do you mind if I eat in my robe? I’m worried I’ll spill food on my dress.”

“Why would I?” His eyes move down to my toes and back up.

“Also… there.” He gestures to the sitting area. There’s a bag there on the floor from the boutique he took me to earlier. “The other pair of shoes.”

“But - ”

“Stop.”

I stop talking.

He takes a step toward me and stares at me. I stare back.

He’s standing really close to me. My bare feet are nearly toe-to-toe with his shoes. I swallow as I look up at his face. His eyes are aimed at my mouth and I’m close enough to him that I smell the mint on his breath, his bodywash or maybe his shampoo, too.

His lips part and his eyes heat up. My eyes hit his mouth and I find myself fascinated with the ridges of his lips. But then panic seizes me and I take a step back. We’re standing way too close.

“Killian,” I start.

“Violet…” He replies, looking smug.

He was gonna kiss me.

Shit.

God.

Shit.

Was he? And why did I feel the need to say his name there all breathily?

My face must relay my thoughts because his eyes abruptly change. Mischief is gone and there’s suddenly regret there.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not letting you talk, Violet. I have no intention of treating you the way he does, like your voice doesn’t matter. I won’t do that again. I was in a shit mood and I didn’t mean to take it out on you today. I was happy to get your jewelry back for you and I wanted you to have the shoes.”

I swallow and take one more step backwards, my back touching the fridge.

“Thank you. Thank you for the jewelry. And the shoes. Nobody’s ever bought me four pairs of awesome shoes in one day.”

“Well, you’re welcome. You deserve shoes every day if it makes you happy.”

“And thank you for getting my chopsticks.” I smirk.

That’s kind of odd.

He tilts his head confused. And then his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk of his own.

“I liked the chopsticks,” he informs.

I bite my lip. “Stuff tastes better with those chopsticks.”

“This is probably why neither of us could eat last night.”

“Boring chopsticks,” I say, a smile tugging at my mouth.

The heaviness has dissipated and there’s something playful about him right now.  My belly swoops as I stop trying to fight the smile.  I shake that belly dip off. Or I try.

But he’s staring at me and his expression is serious. So serious I, with difficulty, tear my eyes away. We keep getting into eye locks. Killian Coulter is skilled at the eye-lock.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate getting this back.” I reach into the sandwich bag.  “I have an emotional attachment to this jewelry. Except for this.” I reach in and remove a gold necklace with a heart pendant on it.  “I have no attachment to this.” I set it on the counter.

“He give that to you?”

I nod.

He eyes it with disgust.

It used to mean something to me. He told me it was his heart, that it was all mine. Not anymore.

“I was just about to put it in your trashcan but it’s worth a few dollars, so I’ll donate it instead. Someone can get something out of it.”

“I’ll get rid of it for you if you like.” He holds his hand out. “I’ll donate money in your name to a charity.”

“You don’t have-”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” I lift the chain and drop it into his outstretched palm.

He pockets the chain.  “Let’s eat,” he says as he grabs a kitchen towel and opens the microwave, using the towel to pull out the large, steaming bowl.

***

“Thank you for the shoes,” I say, halfway through the meal, which is going down easier tonight. “They’re the prettiest shoes I’ve ever seen.”

He smiles.

“I might wanna be buried in them,” I tell him. I’ve taken them out of their box and I’m staring at them sitting there on the floor, looking gorgeous and dying to be worn.

“Strut to the pearly gates in style?” he asks.

“For sure,” I say.

We’ve both been mostly silent and eating, while the news has been on and Killian’s eyes have been back and forth between his food and the television.

“You’re welcome.”

“The jewelry means a lot. A lot, a lot.” I hold the baggie to my heart.

“My pleasure, Violet.” His eyes graze me with a gentleness that makes me feel warm.

There’s a long moment of silence where we just look at one another.

“So, what sort of state is my apartment in?” I inquire, breaking the spell.

He flexes his jaw muscles and there’s an angry glint in his eyes now. He guzzles back some water before answering. “It’s a disaster.”

I growl a little.

“Want him out of there?” Killian asks.

I blow out a breath. This sounds like an offer. “He’s got nowhere to go.”

“Is this your problem?” Killian asks, notching an eyebrow.

I shake my head. “No, but you gave him two weeks, so I figured that was time he’d have to get his life together.”

“You think he’s gonna do that?”

I shrug.

Killian puts his chopsticks down and crosses his arms over his chest, eyes on me, waiting for an answer.

I shrug again instead of answering.

He’s not gonna do that. He’s going to scramble to try to scam and figure things out and when he doesn’t get anywhere, he’s going to sit there and cry in front of Killian, pleading for forgiveness and then what’ll happen? What’ll Killian do about that?

“You want him out of there, I’ll get him out,” he offers.

“I’ll just deal when it’s time for me to go back. I’m used to cleaning up after him.”

“You shouldn’t have to clean up after anyone,” he grits out, then wipes his mouth with his napkin and stands.

“Susanna will help me clean up. I’m not alone anymore.”

Our eyes meet again.

And I almost ask. I almost ask what’ll happen to Ray if he doesn’t have the money by the deadline.

He goes back to the fridge and takes out another bottle of water and drinks half of it down.

Instead of asking, I say, “Well, I’m full. I should go start on my hair and makeup. We have to go in about an hour.”

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

I snatch up our dirty dishes and take them to the sink.

“Thanks,” he says. “Guess I’ll go make myself beautiful.”

“It won’t take much,” I say, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood.

His eyes sparkle and travel the length of me. Again.

“I mean… guys have it so easy. A quick shower and a shave and you’re ready. We have to primp, smooth, and pluck for hours to get presentable.”

“I do my share of manscaping, too,” he informs. “All this takes a bit of effort.” He gestures to himself.

My eyes peruse him from head to toe lazily, but then my cheeks go beet red.

He barks out a laugh but then moves closer, then leans over and tucks a curl behind my ear. “You’re already beautiful, Violet. No primping or makeup even necessary. Those dimples are one of your best assets.” He moves away and eyes my legs, or maybe my butt, or maybe both before he goes, I sway on my feet briefly. I sway toward him, like he’s got some sort of gravitational pull.

He looks over his shoulder at me and winks before he moves further away but then he stops and stares out the window. “What happened out there?” His back has gone arrow-straight.

“Do you mean the furniture cushions and lanterns? I put them away. I was out there and didn’t want them getting ruined with the weather. Or blowing away. It was getting a bit nasty earlier.”

He looks at me strangely. “Thank you.”

I shrug.

“You sweep out there, too?” he asks.

“Yeah. There were lots of leaves.”

He gives me a weird look. “You don’t have to do that shit. You’re a guest.”

“Aren’t I your prisoner?” I volley.

He smirks. “Yeah, actually. You are. And I demand you not do any manual labor.”

And then he turns and disappears down the hall.

I watch him go and continue to watch where he went, gaping at the hallway. It’s been a long time since Ray complimented my looks. I’m not a superficial person who believes that looks are everything, but it sure is nice to get a compliment. And as serious as Killian is at times (very), he’s also playful and fun.

I finish cleaning up and grab the extra shoes as well as my jewelry and go back to my room to finish getting ready.

I’m thrilled to have my christening necklace back. I always planned to save it for my first child. And there’s my diamond earrings and solitaire diamond necklace, a grad gift from my folks. They’re not overly flashy, just small princess cut diamond studs with a gold choker that has a matching diamond pendant inside the letter V, but I know my mom saved up for them and they mean a lot to me. I’ve only worn them on special occasions, but I’ve already decided they’re not coming off anytime soon – now that I’ve got them back.

In addition to that, I have back a pair of birthstone earrings from my grandparents that I got when I turned twelve and was allowed to finally get my ears pierced as well as a V initial ring that I got when I was sixteen from my parents, a delicate but much-loved Gucci-style silver bracelet that my brother bought me for Christmas two years ago, and a gold anklet that Susanna bought me for my sweet sixteen birthday.

After putting my make-up on, I see myself in the bathroom mirror with my necklace and earrings on and I smile with relief. They have been sitting in that pawn shop for months. I was  panicked about getting them back.

A spike of anger tries to penetrate but I evade. I push it off. I don’t need to feel that right now. I don’t need to give Ray any more of my emotion.

Instead, I slip into the dress Killian chose for me to wear tonight and it makes me instantly feel like a princess. I look in the mirror at my reflection. Oh. Correction: a sexy princess.

The bodice is a scoop-neck lace with short sleeves. It’s glittery and translucent, laying over  a champagne-colored taffeta A-symmetrical dress with a full skirt that comes to just above the knee in front, scooping just below in back.

It feels amazing.

I slip on the black strappy stilettos I liked the most and fluff my hair out. It has dried curly and needs just a bit of product to tame it. I step into the bathroom and spritz some perfume before transferring from my handbag to a little black patent wristlet pocketbook that I use for nights out. That I used to use when I went places besides work or the supermarket. I’m glad I brought it with me. I only did that because I had some identification in it in my underwear drawer at home. It’s big enough for my phone, keys, bank card, and a few essential cosmetics.

I check myself out in the full-length mirror and I feel good. Really good. I gave myself a shimmery but clear manicure earlier and did my toes in a rose gold polish. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

I step out of the room, carrying my regular work winter coat, which is a simple black peacoat and knowing it really isn’t fancy enough for tonight, but I need something, and my only other option is a ski jacket.

I see him by the door, doing something on his phone. My breath catches in my throat. He’s wearing a black tuxedo and he looks incredibly handsome. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and rugged looks good on him, especially with the tuxedo. His eyes bounce up from his screen and then they narrow for a split second as I approach him.

His lips part and I could swear he’s looking at me like he likes what he sees. But he’s also angry.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“No.”

My heart sinks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll survive. You just stole my breath for a minute. You’re a beautiful little thief.”

I swallow, and not without difficulty.

“You look beautiful, too. I mean… handsome.” I blush.

He smiles big, then crooks his arm. I take it, and we leave.

I swear there’s a frizzle of sexual tension sizzling between us in the elevator going down, though neither of us make eye contact.

What’s happening here, what’s been happening since I’ve been here? It feels dangerous. And exciting. And confusing. I’m not sure I’m emotionally equipped for any of it, but here I go, walking out of the elevator into the lobby instead of the underground parking garage and he grabs my hand, making my heart skip a beat.

He squeezes reassuringly and our eyes meet.

Am I safe with him? It really feels like I am. I feel like I’ve never been safer. And it’s so very strange to feel like this.

A moment later, we’re inside the back of an SUV, driven by a well-dressed man named Stan, who knew my name when he greeted us and introduced himself.

My heart races the SUV we’re in as we speed toward the opening of Numbers.

24

Killian

She looks incredible. The best part, though, isn’t how she looks; it’s how she looked at me tonight.

A man knows when he can catch female attention with his looks, and I know I’ve got that, but it rarely pleases me to see a woman looking at me with lust and appreciation because frankly, when I see a woman eyeing me, my first instinct is usually suspicion. What is her game? What does she want? I’ve always seen it as them noticing me and then immediately scheming on how to go about getting their hooks in. For my money, to be seen on my arm as a status symbol, to use me to get theirs back against someone else.

I know Violet isn’t like that.

I’ve always preferred to do the pursuing and I would bet money she would never be the one to pursue a guy.

I’ve never been truly bitten because I see through people. I see intentions as if it’s a second sight.

Good girls avoid men like me. Naughty girls pursue me and that turns me off. I’ll play. I’ll spend time with them. But I’m not about to get serious with them.

I know she looks at me with appreciation for getting her out of the situation she was in, but I also know she finds me desirable and the vibe she gives off isn’t predatory. It’s cute. She thinks I’m unattainable for her - for what reasons I can only guess is mostly about her being in a shitty situation right now. Her confidence has taken a hit.

Because she’s a catch. She’s beautiful.  I know she presents herself these days as timid and introverted, but I also know what I saw three years ago before Iadanza tossed that coin up in the air. And having seen all those snapshots in her apartment today gives me even more insight into who she used to be.

Her eyes on me as she took in the vision of me in my tux – she’s making me feel some kinda way right now. That I’m glad I can turn her head. Because I want tonight to be good for her. I want her to have fun, feel beautiful, and feel safe to be herself. I want her to feel good to be seen with me, too.

I want her finding confidence again. She deserves to have it back after having that shit stain bring her down.

Tonight, she’s gonna turn heads and not just because she’s on the arm of the guy who owns the club that’s being celebrated. She is stunning.

She got herself ready with her hair, makeup, and even her nails and she’s polished from head to toe without the aid of a beauty parlor. This girl knows how to take care of herself without needing to spend money to do it. And she didn’t want me buying her four dresses and four pairs of shoes. She was willing to wear a dress she’s owned for three years despite my offering to shell out for her to feel and look good.

I like that. And I know she’d look just as gorgeous to me in that three-year-old dress, reminding me of the three years between now and then. Forget that shit.

A vision of me fucking her in that dress flashes through my mind. Dirty fucking. Fucking her rough. Coming all over her body, marking her as my own. Keeping her. Putting babies in her. Fuck.

The blood drains from my face in slow motion at the notion of that. This is shit I haven’t ever debated on before.

She’s stares out the window as we drive as if she’s on pins and needles. Her knees are jiggling.

Without calculating the move first, I reach over and my palm lands on her knee.

She jerks in surprise, then goes still as her large chocolate brown eyes are on me.

I squeeze affectionately. “You’re like Jumpin’ Jack Flash over here.”

Blowing out a breath, she replies, “Sorry. What, um, what can I expect there tonight? I should’ve asked earlier.”

“Good question. Cameras on a red carpet. I’ve got some press there to build buzz for the club. We’ll go in, we’ll get offered drinks, and we’ll get the tour as if we’re guests. I arranged it that way so you can see everything. Then, we’ll be seated in a visible location, only because it’s opening night. I’ll mingle a little and you can either do that with me, stay at our table and relax and play some games on a tablet, or you can play some games on the arcade floor and I’ll escort you to do that and get part two of the tour after I’ve done the schmoozing. I’ll have to give a speech and then we can either stay and you can play some more, or we’ll take off.”

“You don’t have to be there all night, till close?”

“No.” I smile. “I did that with my first club, my second, too. This is my fourth, so I’m at the stage where I have people to oversee all that. I only really have to be there an hour tonight, but we can stay longer if you like. As long as you like.”

“It’s your night, Killian, this is a great accomplishment. I’m here for whatever you need,” she says. “If you want us there late, no problem. If I need to sit at a table while you deal with business, again no problem; I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing her knee because my hand is still there, and it feels natural. Too natural. And suddenly, there’s something sizzling between us, because the feel of her knee under my hand has my tuxedo pants tightening. I let go, though I really don’t want to.

She moistens her lips with her tongue, meaning my eyes lock there.

“You came from Ray’s neighborhood and at your age you’ve already got four nightclubs and an online business? It’s impressive.”

“Even if I did it because I started taking illegal bets as a kid to build my empire from the side door of a pizza joint?” I ask.

“Yeah. Even that,” she says.

And I believe she means it. She’s not judging me. Though she doesn’t know all the facts of my rise to success.

“I work hard,” I say. “I went without when I was a kid. Decided I wasn’t gonna go without any longer.”

The streetlights skim her features as we move through the streets of Portland and I can’t help but focus on how her eyes look at me. I could lose myself in them as she looks at me like that. With empathy. She’s got innocence and vulnerability. And something else that feels an awful lot like trust.

There’s something happening between us. Something that might’ve happened three years ago. And maybe I shouldn’t shrug it off just to protect her. Maybe I should see what’ll happen.

A little voice tells me that after she’s survived Iadanza’s bullshit, she deserves better than what I’ve got to offer. Should I really bring her fully into my world after she’s endured him and his fucking bullshit? Would I be able to have everything I want with this girl? I decided a long time ago that I was done going without. Whatever I wanted would be mine no matter the cost. But my conscience has me wondering if she’s better off without me. And I also feel like maybe I’d have to protect her in a way that she’d never fully know the real me. Do I want half a relationship? No, I really don’t. But is Violet right for me? Am I right for her?

We’re at the club.

My driver opens the door and I step out, then reach in to catch her hand.

She gracefully gets out of the SUV despite the cameras, lights, and mayhem.

And then I’m holding her hand and leading her through the throng, feeling focused fully on her and everything she is instead of what’s happening around me.

She’s graceful, poised, and I’m proud to have her on my arm. A photographer calls my name and so Violet stops and is about to move away so my picture can be taken. I keep firm hold of her hand and we pose. She does this naturally, doesn’t freeze or go shy.

We pose a few more times and then by the time we’re inside and greeted by my team, Guy pushes his way ahead of the crowd and claims us.

He still works at the other club but is here to oversee opening week and ensure the staff are operating at my standards. If all goes well this week, I’ve already decided I’m promoting him and having him oversee all concierges at all locations. The team here is less formal than my Law and Genesis locations because of the clientele we’re catering to here being a lot more casual, but he’s always shown himself to be an impeccable professional. Other than when he’s fake-flirting with the women I’m dating.

He greets Violet and tells her she’s beautiful. She thanks him, and is warm but appropriate in how she reacts. He shows us the space, explaining to Violet how it blends the fun of an adult gaming complex with some elements of a casino and an off-track betting sports bar.

We’ve got a bowling alley and billiards areas as well as a competitive axe throwing space and our basement is a war games/laser tag level. Numbers will be open to the public but also caters to corporate events as well as bachelor and bachelorette parties and group nights out.

Guy explains everything to her as he walks us through the space, then taking us up one level from the arcade floor to the sports bar. He seats us at my reserved table, of which I have one in each of my clubs. No one sits at my table, ever. Guy hands us player badges with lanyards, loaded for the night for all-you-can-play. He explains to Violet that there’s a reward redemptions area in the gift shop at the edge of the arcade area where guests redeem points. Instead of little tchotchkes like you’d get at a kids’ party zone, we’ve got more adult gifts. Clothes. Gift cards. Gag gifts. Branded merchandise.

Violet looks suitably impressed.  And I am, too. The place looks great. It’s crawling with people, too. It’s a VIP and press night by invite only. Things look perfect. My team are getting bonuses for pulling this off so beautifully.

Alana and Craig make their approach once we’ve sat down and it’s only to tell me everything is smooth-sailing. This is good. I know that the press that are here are watching to see if I’m pulled aside, if I’m cool and collected, or if I appear pissed or frazzled. All of this will play into how we’re received in our write-ups and early reviews. I’ve got good people on my payroll and a solid feeling about tonight based on everything inside the walls of my 200,000 square foot entertainment complex.

A server comes by to take our drink order and  Violet agrees to a sunset daiquiri after Guy suggests it. She inquires about the ladies’ room so Alana gestures and Violet smiles at me and excuses herself.

“She’s lovely,” Alana says, getting close to me.

I smile.

“She’s living with you?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand casually. “And I’ve never even heard of her and suddenly you’re ordering furniture and moving her car to your garage?”

“Don’t start,” I warn.

She waves at me, dismissively. “It’s just that Jessa’s here.”

I grind my teeth before I’m able to guard my reaction. “How did that happen?”

“She’s with Jag.” She rolls her eyes.

Figures. I should’ve told him not to bring his sister when I talked to him earlier. I would’ve figured it’d be common sense -which Jag generally has.

I look over my shoulder and see Jag, who is a good buddy and my former head of security standing there beside a flight simulation game with Jess at his side. They’re watching Hughey, one of my concierges, who is showing them, along with a small group, a game demo. There are several groups getting demos of different games on the floor.

Jagger and I go back to the last year of high school when we met at a party and we’ve been tight ever since. He left Portland for love, went to work in Seattle a year and a half ago when his fiancée got transferred for her job, but we stay in touch. He’s here every couple months to see his family and we usually get together when he is.

The guy now has his own security firm and he’s good at what he does, so I talked to him this afternoon and asked him to liaise with both Wes and with my head of security on the concerns I have about tonight and about Raymond Iadanza buying a gun today.  He said nothing about his sister.

Jessa is dressed to the nines with her dyed platinum blonde hair in a twist, scantily clad in a little black dress that barely covers her ass.

I know she knows my eyes are on her by the look on her face.  She’s that kind of girl, aware of everything happening around her and acting accordingly so she can achieve whatever her goal is for the day. I don’t know what her game is here tonight, but she either wants to piss me off or she expects to end the night on my cock.

Jessa and I occasionally fucked over a period of a few years after her brother gave me the blessing to ask her out – I wouldn’t have disrespected him that way if he didn’t give that green light. In fact, he was the one who encouraged it, catching me eye her ass when she blatantly bent over in front of me.

I later figured out they were in cahoots. She told him she wanted me and he opened the door with his blessing. I told her from the get-go that it wasn’t gonna be serious and she agreed to be occasional fuckbuddies.  Three times she’s tried to take it further and each time, I’ve put the brakes on and set her straight. The third time must’ve been what she thought’d be ‘the charm’ but for me, it was a sign that fuckbuddies wasn’t doable with her.

In hindsight, I should’ve ended it after the first time when she had a reaction to seeing me with a pretty redhead on my arm at a restaurant. She got nasty and I set her straight while she admitted she wanted more.  I definitely shouldn’t have gone back a third time, but she was good enough in bed that I was kidding myself. She’s been only too happy to fall on my dick when I get the itch and have no one else in mind to scratch it. Last time she was in my apartment trying to push her suit just before I started seeing Kenya, I let her know that not only was it not happening but that we were through with the fuckbuddies thing because clearly it wasn’t working for her and therefore would no longer work for me. She threw a fit and broke some of my shit.

Instead of engaging in the fight, I left and that pissed her off even more. I had Alana deal with the aftermath – she showed up with a cleaning crew and gave Jessa her marching orders, so of course Alana knows some of the details. Jessa tried to show up a week later to apologize to me and I gave her the brush-off, wanting no part of her drama.

It’s been a good six months since I last saw her. And here she is.

Alana probably already warned Jessa to behave herself as my self-appointed big sister.  It wouldn’t be unlike her.

Alana and I go back to when I started to really make some money so wanted to hire a manager so I wasn’t spending every waking hour at the club. She immediately started to make my life easier. I pay and treat her well.

I almost didn’t hire her when she fucked up the interview. She – a single mother with two kids - was down on her luck and even though she fucked up by showing late then had a wardrobe malfunction that led me to believe she was trying to get the job by seducing me, she gave me a speech while she sat there sewing the busted button back onto her shirt while explaining through tears but with strength and conviction that she needed the job so she could take care of her two boys.

She said her jackass ex used to drink and knock her around and died after they split in a work accident that was his fault because he operated machinery while drunk and had also lied about being a smoker on top of that on his life insurance, so no payout. Her speech and her demeanor made me give her a shot. Probably my own childhood issues, but this chick was willing to work her ass off to prove to me that I didn’t make a mistake hiring her so she could take care of her two little boys and her aging mother. She succeeded wildly, proving herself to be my most valuable employee and an all-round decent human. Alana always has my back.

Hennessy strolls toward me with his very pregnant wife. He’s directly behind Violet who’s returning from the restroom.

I see Hennessy’s eyes on Violet’s ass and find that I’m grinding my teeth. Rising, I give the guy a look that would make most people wither. Violet’s eyes on me with confusion, so I clear my expression as I pull her chair out for her. As soon as she’s sitting, I turn and shake Hennessy’s hand. “Henny, man. Welcome.”

“This place, Kill. Fuckin’ awesome. I love it.”

“Janine. Hey.” I hug his wife.

They both smile at Violet expectantly.

“This is Violet. Violet, Hennessy Baxter and his wife Janine.”

Violet’s smile slips just briefly but she recovers easily and rises, shaking hands with them. And I’m impressed with her ability to look calm, though I know by her eyes that she’s faking it because she’s well-aware that this is the bookie the ass-wipe owed money to. Hennessy clearly doesn’t know her.

There’s small talk for a couple minutes and then someone else approaches to say hello so he and Janine head to the gaming floor to catch demos and play games.

An appetizer platter is set on our table and the next half an hour goes by in a blur as people visit to congratulate me.

Finally, I look to Violet who is smiling as another couple head down to the gaming floor and I’m about to ask if she wants to play any games when Jagger and Jessa approach the table. Jag  has apology written all over his face as he approaches and I can see that his sister’s eyes are razor-sharp and on Violet.

25

Violet

Numbers is impressive.

Killian certainly seems to have a head for business. With this in addition to what I saw at Genesis last night, he is making sure he hits multiple demographics of people who want entertainment. He’s got things covered across his clubs from people in their twenties who want a fun adult arcade party experience, onwards to successful and mature people who want a night out in an upscale environment where they can buy top shelf drinks and sit on luxurious furniture and still play gambling games or watch sporting events.

I’m impressed.

I’m about to tell Killian this when a couple approaches the table.

The guy has dark hair and blue eyes. He looks like a movie star. The gorgeous blonde at his side is looking at me, though, and she’s looking at me with daggers shooting from her eyes.

I get a rush of butterflies. This sensation is not too different from the bad flutters I got when Ray’s bookie and his wife came to the table earlier. Thankfully, the guy didn’t seem to know who I was.

“Jägermeister,” Killian greets with a drawl, standing up and doing a bro-shake and a bro hug simultaneously with the other guy who heartily hugs back, while giving me a wide smile.

And then there’s a beat of tension before definite animosity as Killian looks at the woman beside him. “Don’t pull any shit here, Jess. So help me,” he warns.

I watch, surprised at the sinister look that crosses his face just briefly before his expression blanks out.

The woman rolls her eyes and then puts her arms around his neck and tries to rub her nose over his like an Eskimo kiss. “Not to worry, Pooky, I’ll be sweet.”

He laughs, but it’s a hollow sound while he detaches her in a way that I can see is assertive but not abusive. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to draw attention with all the eyes on him tonight, but despite knowing nothing about her, I’d wager a guess she wants to draw attention.

She looks at me with a smug expression.

“Guys, this is Violet. Violet, Jagger is an old friend, and this is his evil twin sister, Jessa.”

“More than an old friend. Old girlfriend.” She winks, getting a message across loud and clear.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Killian grumbles.

“Oh c’mon. If this were the bible days, they’d have declared us married,” she says with a big toothpaste commercial smile.

“Jessa,” Jagger warns from behind her, then he pipes up. “We’re on our way to go bowling. You guys wanna play?” He then sips his drink, eyes on Killian and if I’m not mistaken, dancing with amusement like there’s a private joke.

Killian rolls his eyes. “Not quite. And fuck off, Jag,” he says under his breath.

Jagger slaps his back in a way that looks like a typical buddy ribbing.

Killian signals to someone across the space, then looks at me. “Excuse us one moment, Violet. I’ll be right back.”

I smile in reply and watch him walk Jagger down the three steps near our table down to the gaming floor level, his hand on Jagger’s shoulder.  Jessa looks over her shoulder at me with a grimace and then she gives Killian a flirty look, which it doesn’t seem like he even notices. She made that face for my benefit, clearly.

I reach for my drink and take a sip, then nab the tablet in the center of the table to occupy myself.

Killian’s employee Guy comes to the table. “Would you like the rest of your tour?”

“Oh.” I look up. “Thanks, but I’ll wait for Killian to come back.”

“He asked me to take you, if you’d like. He’s busy for a few minutes. But no pressure,” he says. “I can also sit with you.”

“Oh. Okay. In that case…”

I set the device down, then rise and grab my wristlet and follow him. He crooks an arm when we get to the stairs and I take it as we descend.

***

I’m in the middle of kicking Guy’s ass at Dance Dance Revolution, my shoes on the floor when I see Killian, standing there, arms folded across his chest, a huge smile on his face.

I fumble and miss a few dance steps and then I’m just laughing in hysterics as Guy hoots and howls that he’s kicking my ass, not missing any of his steps.

I try to finish, but make a few more missteps as my and Killian’s gazes are locked. He looks amused. He also looks at me in a way that… I feel seen.

I feel seen in a way I haven’t felt for a long time.

The song ends and I still win, despite my fumbles.

“Killian, man. You saved me from being skunked.” Guy pouts and gives me a hug and then shakes Killian’s hand with a wink and a thumbs up.

“That’s okay,” I say, tugging my dangling lanyard to remove my card from the machine and wrapping it around my wrist as I point at Guy. “Because you skunked me at Mortal Kombat and that car racing game.  We tied on the basketball game so at least I have a little bit of dignity.”

“A woman who fumbles when she sees you, despite her competitive streak… good sign for you, man,” Guy says and pats Killian on the back and then wanders away, winking at me as he goes.

I laugh, but I’m feeling a little embarrassed by that comment.

“Havin’ fun?” Killian asks me, smiling.

“Yes, but I’m so thirsty. Where’s my purse?”  I squat to grab my drink and wristlet from the floor and take a healthy sip.

“So, does Guy suck at basketball or are you good at it?”

I look at him and deadpan, “I fucking rock at basketball. High school girls basketball team,” I add jerking my thumb at myself.

I work to get my shoes back on, noting Killian is watching me with laser-sharp focus. He reaches out and I accept, taking his forearm and using it to help me gain balance getting my mile-high shoes onto my feet. I pull a lock of hair from my mouth and give him a smile.

He’s looking at me with a very serious look on his face, though, and my smile isn’t contagious.

26

Killian

That smile, those dimples of hers, they’re doing me in. Watching her shaking her hips, seeing her laugh, how she fumbled when she saw me – it’s making it hard for me to keep a lid on the cravings that consume my thoughts.

“Sorry to leave you so long,” I say.

“Oh,” she shrugs and waves at me dismissively, “I was having fun. This place is great. And it’s your big night. Plus it’s not like this is really a date, so don’t feel like you have to be…so…chivalrous, err attentive. You know what I mean.”

I frown at her. And now I’m pissed off.

“This is a date, Violet.”

She flinches and her lips part in surprise.

I lean in and run my nose up the space behind her ear, informing,  “You’re mine for two weeks, remember?”

She’s shocked.  She says nothing.

And fuck, she smells good.

“At least two weeks,” I add under my breath, but make sure she hears this.

A crowd moves past us, creating a distraction, so I grab her hand and lead her back to the table. I don’t let go until she sits.

I signal the server who comes over quickly.

“Another round,” I say.

“Absolutely, Killian.” She heads off in a hurry.

My eyes settle on Violet. She’s looking everywhere but at me. I’ve thrown her off with my comments, with the physical closeness. She doesn’t know where to look or how to behave right now. And I find her reaction amusing. I want more reactions from her. Her shyness right now is appealing as fuck.

“Your staff is doing amazing, tonight. I’ve paid attention to them and everyone is working really hard.” She says this, looking around her, still avoiding my gaze, obviously feeling it, and trying to distract me.

“Good. They’ll all get their bonuses then.” I lean back in my seat and get comfortable, crossing my feet at the ankles.

She laughs; her eyes finally meet mine.

“Serious. You think that, that tells me it’s a success,” I say.

She rolls her eyes, but she’s got those dimples on display.

I reach over and grab her hand, then rub my thumb across her knuckles. Her hand is small, delicate. Warm.

“Guests were told no tips tonight, everyone is one hundred per cent my guest; this means I pay gratuities tonight.”

“If I told you some of them sucked at their jobs, I could effectively cost them a bonus?” she asks.

“If you told me that some of them sucked at their jobs, you could cost them more than a bonus. You could get them canned.”

“Pff.” She scoffs. “You’re putting a lot of stock into what I have to say. Not sure that’s a good idea.” She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let go of it.

“That’s okay. I’m sure. I have excellent judgement skills,” I tell her with a wink.

She smiles. And then her smile falls.

And it pisses me off, because she’s thinking about him, about her judgement about him.

Her face changes again. “My purse is buzzing. One sec.”

I release her hand.

She frowns as she lifts her phone out of her bag. “Um, Killian?”

She slides the phone across the table to me and I see a notification of two missed calls and a text on her screen from the same local number.

“It’s me ray. Go outside the main exit before 9:05, babe. Very important. Make an excuse to go to the bathroom. trust me, vi. Don’t tell kill. Please. I’m begging u. If I ever meant anything to you trust me on this . you are in danger. Msg back asap to let me know you’re coming.”

I look up from the phone straight into her eyes. She’s looking at me with concern, but also with absolute trust.

She’s not his any longer.

She’s mine.

I fucking feel it. It hits me hard and yet it doesn’t knock me over; knowledge of this feels like strength to me. A surge of absolute power.

What the fuck is that shithead up to? I mean, yeah, I had a feeling he’d pull something tonight. I already knew he was here from the text I got before I met her that he was a block away from here and I have men surrounding him, waiting for his approach.

He makes the first move, not us, so we have a leg to stand on if anything goes legal.

I gesture for Tony, my security lead at Genesis, who was supposed to have the night off but came at a moment’s notice when I got word Ray bought a gun today.

He comes straight over and notices I’m gesturing to Violet’s screen. Tony reads over my shoulder and gives me a nod and then puts his hand to the earpiece as he leaves. He’s talking to Wes and Jagger.

“Baby, I’m gonna put you in my office for a few minutes while I deal with this, okay?” I say, rising.

27

Violet

I’m flummoxed.

He cups my shoulder and brings me closer, his mouth near my ear.

“I’ve had Wes following him. He bought a gun this morning; we knew he was a block away an hour ago,” Killian says this into my hair as my back goes arrow-straight. “Stay calm, Violet. I’ve got this covered. Not a thing to worry about.”

I have very little awareness of being walked upstairs to a big office that overlooks part of the place. It’s a swanky space surrounded by dark glass with a bird’s eye view of much of Numbers. We gained entry after Killian put his thumb to a screen outside the door and I can see the bowling alley, the arcade floor, and the billiards area. Other parts of the place are on a panoramic screen showing video footage. The screens came to life as we entered.

I’m taking it in while trying to formulate questions, thoughts, something.

A gun? I’m stuck on that part.

“I’ll be back for you. I’ll send a server up with another drink,” Killian tells me.

“No booze. Water, please.” I say, needing my head clear, because I’m completely discombobulated.

He hands me my phone. I tap it for the time. 8:51.

What in the world is going to happen at 9:05 when I’m not down at that exit?

“Can you stay? Let your security deal?” I ask.

He looks me right in the eyes and lets out a breath. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that. I need to see to this.”

I bite my thumbnail, but then my phone dings again with another text from Ray. A line of question marks.

“Don’t be frightened. It’s fine. Trust me.” He’s directly in front of me, looking at the screen.

“He’s not a gun violence type, I don’t think, Killian. I don’t… I’m thrown.”

“Of course you are. Thank you for showing me the text. Thank you for trusting me. Don’t answer him. I’ve got this.” He cups my jaw and looks deep into my eyes.

“Don’t get hurt. Please,” I plead.

His lips part, his eyes drop to my mouth, and his thumb grazes my cheekbone before his eyes bounce back up to lock with mine.

His expression warms.

“And d-don’t hurt him.”

His expression changes just marginally, but then his phone makes a text alert sound, so his attention snaps to it, though he doesn’t let go of my face as he lifts it from his pocket.

“What’s gonna happen?” I ask.

“I’m gonna go see what’s what.”

I stare as he pockets his phone.

“I’ll be back. Stay here. There’s a private bathroom there if you need it.” He gestures to a door before he kisses my forehead softly and my eyes close as I feel the sensation of his lips lingering there.

I empty my lungs of air as he caresses my cheek with the backs of his fingers. And then he’s gone.

Not only am I thrown by the fact that Ray’s here, with a gun, but the way Killian has been since we’ve arrived here. The comments. The lingering looks. The affection.

I give my head a shake. I’m feeling overheated, suddenly, and shaky. I’m having some sort of anxiety attack, obviously.

Not a moment later,  Guy comes in and brings me a bottle of water and a small platter of fruit, nuts, olives, and cheese.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You look upset.”

“No, I’m, I… I can’t really, um… can I just pace until Killian gets back?” I ask.

Guy tilts his head to the side a little, regarding me.

“Do you want me to distract you from whatever has you pacing?”

I shake my head. “No. I just wanna pace. Thank you anyway.”

“I’ll leave you to it, unless you want company.”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks. Um…thanks.”

I’m barely aware of him slipping out as I pace. I pace and pace, drinking my water, not touching the food, finding the smell of the olives a bit nauseating, in fact. From the wall of glass, I look down at the place for signs of anything or anyone until I feel half dizzy from scanning the view.

My anxiety over all this isn’t dissipating. With every moment that passes, it gets more acute.

There are lots of people in the club, obviously having a great time. People are snapping photos, selfies, playing games, talking in groups with drinks and food, and having a laugh. The place has music playing and I can hear it up here.

A gun?

Is he gone crazy?

What the heck, Ray? 9:05 passes without incident.

9:07 I get a text. Shakily, I bring the screen closer to my face.

Killian: All’s good. Don’t worry. Be up soon.

***

It’s 9:19 before the door opens and that’s when I’m faced with Killian, Ray, and three other men.

I breathe out a sigh of relief and sag against the desk behind me, balancing on it. No one’s bleeding. Nobody’s looking hurt.

The private eye from yesterday, Killian’s friend Jagger, and the huge security guy who I’ve seen at Genesis come in as well.

Ray looks sheet-white as he takes me in. I’m sitting on the edge of the desk. I stand up.

“Vi,” he whispers, voice laced with pain.

He’s wearing a suit, a suit I’ve never seen, though he’s wearing the dress shoes that I bought him for my cousin’s wedding that he never attended. He’s clean-shaven. He looks more together than he has in eons.  Except for the look on his face. The paleness. The fear in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” I ask Killian, ignoring Ray.

“Everyone, excuse us,” Killian says, then he moves to the security screens and hits buttons on a keyboard and the noise from the club cuts off instantly.  “Tony, wait outside the door,” Killian adds.

And the silence feels deafening. All my own thoughts and fears and the confusion amid panic I’m feeling is no longer being drowned out by music and background noise.

Wesley Traynor nods, giving me a chin jerk before he exits.

Tony steps outside directly after him.

“Sure?” Jagger asks, eyeballing Ray with distaste.

Killian rolls his eyes while gesturing for the door.

It’s now Killian, Ray, and me.

Killian’s eyes are on me and then they bounce to Ray.

“Why are you here, Raymond?”

Ray takes a deep breath and then opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Why’d you bring a gun to my club?” Killian’s voice has dropped an octave.

Ray blows out a stuttered breath.

“Why the fuck did you send a text to Violet?” Killian’s voice is almost guttural now.

My eyes are locked on Killian as he glares at Ray with lasers practically firing out of his eyes. His lip is curled. It’s as if sending me the text was the worst of what he did. I sit back down on the corner of the desk, legs feeling wobbly.

Ray flops down to sit in a chair in front of the desk, thrusting his hand through his hair.

“I came to try to talk to my… Violet and then –”

“Your Violet?” Killian inquires, his voice lethal.

Ray clenches his jaw, but his eyes still look filled with worry.

“Whose Violet is she right now?”

Ray swallows.

“The gun?” Killian says. “Explain. Right now.”

“I was armed in case. Just in case.”

“Armed. What were you gonna do? Shoot me? Rob me? Steal Violet from me?” Killian’s eyebrows shoot up.

My heart is beating so fast it’s not even funny. My eyes bounce between Ray and Killian and the vibe Killian is giving off feels dangerous.

I feel like I can’t breathe in here suddenly.

“Of course not. Just making sure you’re not gonna shoot me.” Ray thumps his chest. “I needed to talk to her, make sure she’s okay. Let her know I’m workin’ my best to get this figured out.”

“What was with the text then? Frightening her with the threat of danger? You desperate enough to do something extreme, Raymond?”

Ray somehow goes paler and his eyes shoot to me with accusation. I’m still sitting on the edge of Killian’s desk.

“I wanted to put her mind at ease, but figured sh-she wouldn’t come out so I…”

“Said shit to get her to come out?”

“Yeah. I had no intention of using that gun, man. Just a prop.”

“I’m supposed to believe that? It was loaded, Raymond.”

My grip on the sides of the desk tightens to hold me up. Holy shit.

“Did I pull it on your security guard?” Ray asks, then answers himself. “No, I didn’t, man. I approached the building and was hoping to meet Violet outside just to talk to her.”

“Maybe you want Violet to think you’re not as stupid as you look, man, but I happen to know my team came up behind you so we’ll never know if you planned to pull it or not, will we? Your text to her shows intent, though.”

“Fuck.” Ray covers his face. “You take my girl, man, you expect me to do nothing? What would you do if someone did that to you? I know what you’d do, you’d –”

“Never be in a position to lose my girl for money. Not for anything.” Killian looks at me as he says that last part. “A woman is mine, she’s safe and she’s my fucking priority above all else.”

I swallow.

Ray thrusts his hands through his hair again.

“I expect,” Killian leans back in his chair. I’m against the corner of his desk, only now I’m sort of twisted so I can see both him and Ray, “That giving you a chance to right a wrong would mean you’ll work your tail off to get my money together so that you can honor your end of the agreement. I told you she’s off-limits until the debt is paid and now you’ve broken the agreement, not once, twice. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Maybe, I dunno, try to understand where I’m comin’ from?”

“Understand how you fucked me over for thousands of dollars? How you missed your flight, which I also paid for, then dodged me for days? How you left Violet worrying about what’d happened to you? How you came back and tried to talk her into running with you and lying to me?”

Ray shakes his head, staring at the floor. “Fuck, Violet. You told him that?” Ray looks like he’s about to cry.

I say nothing, but my body is shaking, my mouth is dry, and I feel puky.

“You have an installment for me?” Killian asks, sitting up straight.

“An installment?” Ray’s eyes bounce to him.

“Some of the money?”

“Not yet, no.”

“How do I know you weren’t here to rob me. Or to take Violet from me by gunpoint?”

Ray’s mouth contorts. “Take Violet from you. From you…”

“Ray…” I start.

“Violet,” Kill cuts me off and shakes his head.

I pull my lips tight. I wanted to remind Ray I’m not his any longer.

Ray looks at him with astonishment. And then his eyes bounce to me.

“What should I do here, Iadanza? You try to fuck me over for money. I make an arrangement with you to pay me back instead of doing what many other men in my position would do…” Killian pauses for a long moment. The silence is practically deafening before Killian speaks again. “You’ve broken our arrangement twice. That’s not respectful. Maybe I should do something that’s not respectful. Maybe I’ll do that something tonight. You get me?”

My eyes bounce between them.

“One more chance,” Ray pleads. “One more.”

“You seem to think I’m much more generous than I actually am, man.”

“I know. I apologize. I’ll do whatever I can do to make this right. With you and with Violet. Babe… I love you. I’m sorry. You’ve gotta forgive me, Vi.”

My mouth opens, but before I speak I look at Killian. I know by his face he wants me to say nothing, so I close my lips and say nothing.

Killian fiddles with his phone, looking like he’s sending a text message.

“You can go. Tony will see you out. Call me when you have my money. Don’t show up unannounced. Once bitten twice shy, but three times, Raymond?” Killian lets that hang.

“You’re gonna let me go?”

“What do you think?” Killian replies.

“Can I have two minutes with her?” Ray asks.

“Absolutely not. And you piss me off one more time, you won’t have any more kindness from me. You get me?”

The door opens and the big security guy waits.

Ray rises.

Killian nods at the guy and Ray gives me a look filled with longing before he leaves.

The door shuts.

I look to Killian and he’s standing there, flexing his jaw and glaring at the closed door with a sourness on his face that’s frankly chilling.

I’m surprised that went the way it did.

“Um, I’m kinda shocked.”

“Kinda shocked?” Killian parrots. “Why is that?”

There’s a bit of an edge to his voice.

“That it went so calmly.”

He scoffs as he rises. “You said don’t hurt him. For that reason, he’s getting his third chance. Though gotta say, I rarely give a second.” He shoots me a look that makes me bristle. “Let’s go. I’m done with this night.”

He opens the door and waits for me, gesturing for me to go ahead.

My cheeks flame as I head that way.

Minutes later, I’m in the back seat of the SUV that brought us, courtesy of Killian holding the door for me. “I’ll be five minutes,” he says while leaning in but not getting into the SUV. He slams the door and heads to the entrance where I see Jagger and Jessa standing there. She’s smoking a cigarette and her brother is casually leaned against the wall, eyes on Killian as he approaches them.

Killian speaks to them briefly and then they follow him inside.

I bite my lip and lean back against the heated leather seat.

No more than five minutes pass before Guy is approaching the SUV. He makes the universal gesture for unrolling a window and I press the power button.

“Here’s his keys; something came up. He wants you to go back to his place and says he’ll see you in the morning.”

“Oh.”

“Your driver will walk you to the door. Stan?” Guy calls in and the driver turns his head and gives Guy the thumbs up.

“Killian said he’s gonna shoot you a text with the security codes, Flower.”

“Okay,” I say, only half smiling at him calling me Flower.

“Have a good one, Stan,” Guy waves.

“Copy that,” the driver waves and starts the SUV.

Guy waves. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you, too.”

He’s looking at me with concern as Stan pulls away from the curb and takes us into the night.

I get a text alert.

Killian: 2582 to get in the condo. Stan will walk you to the door. Hit ‘arm’ when you get inside.

I reply with shaky fingers.

“Ok.”

28

Killian

“No,” I tell Jessa, leaving zero room for misinterpretation after she tries to move in for a kiss in the hallway while Jag’s in the men’s room.  “I have shit to do and have no time for your garbage. Go home. We’re done, Jess. We were done last time we spoke.”

“You’re obviously not going home to fuck that brunette,” she states, “otherwise you wouldn’t have sent her off. I can take care of you. For old times’ sake. I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just disrespect me, but you’re skating on thin ice, Kill, so be careful here.”

“Psycho bitch,” I grumble only half under my breath.

She flashes me flirty eyes. “Psycho bitches make for great bed buddies though, don’t they, Pooky?”

Bitch really is off her rocker.

“Don’t put your hands or your mouth on me again, woman, or you’ll be sorry.”

She pouts.

Jag is back and it’s not the first time I think that of the two of them, he got all the common sense when it was doled out in their mother’s womb.

“Get her gone, man,” I gesture toward Jessa. “I do not need her bullshit tonight. You shoulda known better than to bring her here, man, especially with the concerns I had about tonight.”

“Jess,” Jag grumbles and grabs her by the elbow. “Sorry, Kill. Meet you for racquetball tomorrow before I head back?”

He gets a chin lift from me, but I also shoot him a look as I move past them to the door for the staircase. I tap the security panel with my thumb, feeling my patience slipping further as it takes a beat to read my print and grant me access.

The time it takes me to jog down the two flights of stairs to the basement and walk down the long hallway to the security booth helps me tamp down my anger. Marginally.

When I step in, I find Tony and two guards sitting and watching the surveillance monitors, and there sits Iadanza on a metal folding chair that they’ve set up so that his back is to the monitors.

The wall of monitors displays external zones as well as all internal areas; only my office is turned off because the camera for that zone is disabled while I’m in this building unless I turn it on. The two security guards sit up straighter at my arrival.

Iadanza is practically pointed at the corner looking like he’s minus one dunce cap. And he looks frazzled.

“Boys,”  I greet and get a “Sir” and a “Hey, Killian.” Tony says nothing, just eyeballs Ray with an expression that can’t be mistaken for anything other than, one wrong move and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.

Something catches the attention of the guy that said hey, his nametag says Carl. Carl grabs his mic from his shoulder and calls out, “Floor team, arcade zone. Watch that guy in the blazer, green button-down, leather tie. He’s nosing around the bar shiftily.”

These men watch the room and communicate with the floor team, the door team, and the exterior team. I have extensive security. Not only do I not want to be ripped off, I also don’t want women getting drugged at one of my places or any other bullshit like that. Tonight is invite only, but that doesn’t mean people or their plus ones won’t get up to shit.

“It’s your lucky day, Raymond,” I say and jerk my chin. ”Follow me. Let’s get outta here so these guys can do their thing without further distractions. Tony, hang back until I knock. Night guys. Carl, good work.”

Carl jerks his chin while Tony nods. The other guard opens the door for me and then Raymond rises and follows me to the hallway while blowing out a long breath.

The door clicks shut behind us.

This guy is sweating bullets. His forehead is full of sweat beads, his hair is damp with it, and his skin tone looks halfway to gray.

I get right in his face and he visibly shrinks.

“I wanted a minute more to talk to you without Violet,” I stare without expression.

He eyeballs me. Wary. Freaking out. Shaking.

If he thought he was getting released without a chat after his colossal fuckup, he’s wrong. He’s lucky it’s just a chat at this stage. My guys took him downstairs to sweat it out for a little while first. Part of the punishment.

“You get a lucky break tonight, man, because that girl asked me to give you another shot.”

Hope flares in his eyes. And I wanna rip his fuckin’ face off. I hold myself calm instead.

“But you owe me for this. For this concession. You know I shouldn’t have given you the second chance, never mind a third. Don’t know where the fuck your head is at, but again she’s the reason you’re getting one last chance.”

“I,” he rasps. “I appre-“

I cut him off, “But I’m taking something extra for my kindness.”

His eyes widen as he waits. He has no fucking idea how he’s gonna come up with my money and worries I want more.

I lean in closer. “I’m gonna make a play for her tonight. And I wanted you to know about it. You go home knowing you got away with breaking the rules, but you also go home knowing there’s a chance that gorgeous woman will be crying my name into my sheets tonight.”

He’s holding his breath.

“I’m gonna make it clear I want inside that pussy. Tell me, Ray: is it tight?”

He grinds his teeth.

I smile wide. “I bet it is. Any luck, I’ll find out. Guess that’ll be between me ‘n her. But I’m tellin’ you it might happen tonight because this is the price you pay for my kindness. Do not mistake it for weakness. You’re free to go. Clock’s ticking Raymond. Better hurry and get me my money. Got five days before the vig kicks in, twelve days remaining total. Tick tock. You message me if you’re gonna be early and we’ll finesse the time and place.”

“If she turns you down tonight-”

I cut him off with a shrug. “If she does, she does. But gotta say, man... She loves my place, likes it when I hold doors for her and make her coffee just how she likes it in the mornings. Little things like that, women appreciate. You know?”

I know he doesn’t. Or he’s allowed himself to forget.

“Bought her some pretty things. Got the jewelry you hocked out of the pawn shop for her. And man, she was fuckin’ relieved. Thought it was lost forever because of you. Threw her arms around me for it. Riddle me this: what kind of loser move is it to take your woman’s jewelry that she’s kept since a baby, saving it for her future kid, and put it at risk like that? For a couple hundred bucks? Are you fucking thick? You really think she’s gonna let you be the one to put that kid in her belly?”

His mouth contorts painfully. He knows he’s a fucking loser. But he’s also pissed right now and he’s probably feelin’ brave considering I’ve said he’s off the hook, mostly, for his stupidity tonight. That’s okay. His false confidence is going to be his fucking downfall.

“Puttin’ lots of smiles on that pretty face, Raymond. Seein’ those dimples every fucking day. When’s the last time she gave you a dimpled smile?”

The guy looks like I just socked him in the gut.

Fucking turd.

I continue. “Be surprised if she turns me down. Real surprised if she chooses to remain faithful to a shmuck who hocks her baby jewelry, who loses her because of gambling debts. Or is she already done with you, man? Because she doesn’t seem too bothered about being mine.”

He swallows thickly.

“Better get the fuck outta here and work on getting my cash together. Before I change my mind, put a bullet between your eyes, and then go home and fuck your girlfriend anyway.” I give him a blinding smile.

He licks his teeth behind his lips, looking like he wants to deck me.

He’s too fucking afraid of me. A) He knows I can fight. Beat the snot out of him no less than three times in his life so far. B) He knows I’ve got a long reach to make him pay if he manages to get the better of me, which is highly fucking unlikely.

“You’re not gettin’ that gun back, either. Fuck off. Go catch your train.”

I rap on the door and Tony pops his head out.

“Walk him to the MAX.”

“Got it, boss.”

I watch them walk down the hallway. Ray looks over his shoulder at me just once.

I smirk as I grab my cock, give it a jiggle and jerk my chin up.

He sways, then puts a hand against the wall to try to catch his balance.

Fuckin’ asshole.

Yeah, go home, ass-wipe, and have nightmares about me fucking Violet.

I call my old friend Tino and arrange to meet him.

***

I meet Tino in the back office at a coffee shop owned by my buddy Dario’s family, give him the gun Tony took off Ray and tell him to hold it pending further instructions. I also tell him to pay a visit and make sure Sully files all the paperwork properly so that the gun gets registered to Ray. If that isn’t doable, there’s gonna be a swap.

29

Violet

I’m panicked.

I wake, knowing I’ve been dreaming. Dreaming of Ray with a gun. He pointed it at me and then Killian was there between us and Ray had the gun against Killian’s forehead.

I feel the bed move and I see the shadow of someone climbing under the covers.  It’s dark, still, but the city lights are twinkling outside, letting enough light in that I can see it’s Killian beside me.

I let out a big breath.

“Violet,” he says. “Hi.”

He’s awake. Not sleepwalking.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“I have to sleep here,” he tells me. “I need to sleep here. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re shaking,” he observes. “I scare you?”

I feel the heat from his close proximity. It’s like he’s a furnace and I’m freezing, every bit of me wanting to get closer to that heat.

“I had a bad dream. I think it’s the aftermath of … all that.”

“Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah,” I whisper and nuzzle into the blankets, trying to warm up.

My teeth chatter.

Why? Is it that cold or is it the nightmare? I shiver again and squirm into the blankets.

And then warmth envelopes me and my eyes automatically drift shut as I will my body to absorb the heat.

He’s pulled me to his chest. We’re on our sides facing one another and his arm is around me. My cheek is against his naked chest. His hand is flat against my back, which is exposed mostly because I’m wearing a camisole nightgown that’s low cut in the back.

Oh my Lord. This feels… it feels like I’m about to be incinerated by the heat. And gladly. I feel almost drunk.

“I’m sorry I made you come home alone tonight; I was pissed,” he whispers.

“At me?” I squeak.

“At you,” he confirms.

And that sobers me. I thought so. He seemed pissed at me.

“I wanted to hurt him,” he tells me, matter-of-factly, and it sounds like he’s doing it through gritted teeth.

“Oh.”

“And you asked me not to,” he adds.

I moisten my lips and nod a little.

“I have no fucking idea what his plans were tonight, Violet. A man came to my club with a gun after I specifically told him to stay away until he comes with the money he owes me. And I went against my instincts of sending a message to him about what he did because you asked me not to hurt him.”

“And you’re mad at me,” I whisper.

“I’m mad at him. Not you. I was pissed because you gave that stupid fuck a second thought. What if he was gonna hurt you to send a message to me that you’re not part of the debt any longer? He had a fucking gun. What if he was thinking he’d take me out? What if he was gonna try to run off with you to escape his debt? You protected him. Fuck sakes, Violet.”

He groans that last bit, and I don’t know how to respond to it.

He’s mad, but I’m not scared. He’s holding me close while he rants and I’ve never felt like this in the middle of being given shit by someone before.

“Everything he’s done to you, and I know I don’t know the half of it, and you protected him. Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… don’t like violence, I guess. I want him out of my life, but I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

I don’t know what Killian would’ve done without my request not to hurt Ray. I don’t think I wanna know. I know Ray made references, but I don’t know if they were overblown, about him ‘disappearing’ people, though he doesn’t seem like that type.

He also doesn’t seem like the type to put up with someone pissing him off, either. I sense power from him, not just because he’s physically in good shape, but he has this powerful, commanding presence.  But is he someone who would kill or have someone killed?

“I have a question,” I whisper.

He pulls me even closer and his fingers weave into the length of my hair.

“What?” he asks.

“Why did you listen to me?” I have goosebumps all over me at his touch. My heart is beating so fast.

“Good question.”

He’s breathing heavily and I feel his heart hammering against my chest. He’s so warm and strong and God, this is so intimate. I’m in the dark, in his arms and I’m warming up.

He’s holding me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

My lungs are filled with the scent of him. He smells good. I tremble some more, but I’m not cold. I’m feeling something else. Panic? Arousal? Both?

He shifts and I feel the tickle of his leg grazing mine. Leg hair. He’s probably in his underwear like he was the last time he climbed in bed with me.

“You’re a good person, Violet. And he doesn’t deserve you.”

“No. He doesn’t, “ I say softly against his chest.

He cups my face and lifts my jaw. His lips are too close.

Way too close.

My heart is pounding even harder.

His grip on me tightens and I feel him against my thigh. Uh oh. He’s hard.

“I don’t either. I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor.”

I swallow.

“But I can’t help but want you, anyway.”

I pull back. “Killian.” I hear the alarm in my voice.

I’m breathing hard; I’m really panicking.

I’m in a bed held by a virile, gorgeous, probably dangerous man, and he’s got an erection.

“Shh,” he kisses my forehead. “It’s okay. Sorry, Violet. I just needed to be here. I won’t sleep if I’m not. Or eventually I will sleep and then I’ll wind up here anyway.”

A long moment of silence stretches out before I’m able to stutter, “O-k-kay.”

He goes to turn over but I find myself panicking and grabbing onto him so he can’t.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to send mixed messages. I just –” Guilt lances through me. What’s wrong with me?

“It’s okay.” He pulls me closer again. “You’re giving me what I need tonight by letting me be here. I’ll give you what you need tonight, too.”

Holding me. Not expecting anything. This is exactly what I need right now.

He drops a tender, lingering kiss on top of my head and then goes still.

I sink my front teeth into my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut tight.

The feel of his lips on my head, the feel of his arms around me. God. I’m so –

“Sleep,” he orders. “It’s late.”

I nod.

It takes me what feels like a long time to fall asleep. Because I’m feeling this … this closeness. I’m aware of his fingertips against the top of my spine, of the pattern of his breathing, which isn’t even, so I know he’s not sleeping either.

How can either of us sleep? We’re strangers in a bed together. He’s mad at Ray, annoyed at me, and I’m having some sort of breakdown, I think.

But he’s holding me so close. He’s got me wrapped up with both arms and I’ve never felt safer. Never felt more aware of another person who’s directly beside me in the dark, in the quiet.

His other hand rests on my lower back, directly above my tailbone, though at the almost-kissing point, his fingertips stretched a little and I shivered at the tickle as they grazed the top of my behind.

And part of me, a distant part of me that’s maybe who I used to be wants to surface. Wants to surface and reach down and stroke his erection, parting my lips against his, stroking that sexy, full bottom lip with the tip of my tongue, signaling him to please, fucking please devour me.

Please say my name in that deep, husky voice as you touch me. Please touch me everywhere. Make me remember what it feels like to have a man touch me like I’m someone they want, not just someone that’s there.

But that distant part of me is so far away from who I am now that she can’t get close enough to do what she wants.

A single teardrop escapes from my eye, then trails down my face until it lands on his bare chest. I dry it with my hair, catching more tears before they fall. He doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he cups the back of my head and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose.

I place my palm flat over his chest on the right, feeling the smooth, muscled skin, the immense heat of him, feeling the urge to sob but pushing it back.

Instead of tipping my head back and kissing him like I want to do, I close my eyes and eventually, sink under, feeling safe enough to fall asleep in Killian Coulter’s arms.

30

Killian

I wake to darkness, and it takes a second to realize where I am.  Violet’s bed.

She’s pulled all the blinds closed tight. And she’s not here. I sit up.

They weren’t closed last night. I didn’t get into her bed till nearly dawn, so she must’ve done that so I could sleep in. I’ve got no clue what time it is.

I get up and wander out, expecting to see her in the kitchen, in the living area, somewhere out here. She’s not, so I slip back into her room and inside the bathroom.  There’s a hair iron on the counter. It’s off, but there’s hair product and makeup out too so she’s obviously gotten up and gone somewhere. I lick my fingertip and touch the ceramic plate. No sizzle, not even a bit of warmth; she’s probably been gone a while.

After heading to my own room, I take a leak in my master bathroom, and then find my phone in my tux pocket. It’s after two o’clock in the afternoon. I don’t have a clue when I last slept this late in the day, up till dawn or not. Maybe I slept late because the sun wasn’t baking me for a switch. Maybe I slept late because for some of it, I had her in my arms.

Checking my phone, I see a text from Jag.

Racquetball! What time? My flight tonight is at eleven forty, so not a rush. We should do dinner too and catch up. Hmu.

Text from Wes.

R.I. went straight back to the apt last night and hasn’t come out yet. I’ve got something on so Zack’s taking over as we’re short-staffed today. He’ll be in touch with any updates.

Where’s Violet?

I check the live feed for my parking zone and her car is gone. Where is she?

Did she take off early so she wouldn’t have to see me today after last night?

Things were pretty cozy in her bed. It took a fuck of a lot to keep my self-control in check with her pressed against me, so soft, smelling so good, her palm on my chest, shivering until my body heat warmed her up.

She fell asleep before I did and snuggled in deep, cocking her leg so it went between mine, meaning her knee gave me an angry erection. She wiggled closer and when her pelvis was in contact with my dick, I had to grind my teeth together to stop myself from flipping her to her back, tearing her little panties down, and finding my way inside her. I had to shift her a little to lose the feel of the heat between her legs. I stuffed some of the ridiculous quilt I bought for her between us. But I didn’t let her go. I just put a little bit of something between us.  Begrudgingly.

I had almost fallen asleep in my own bed but knew, sinking with dread toward passing out, that I’d be plagued by worry all night and I’d end up sleepwalking, so decided to save myself the trouble and agony by climbing in preemptively.

I almost went back to my own bed, but knew I’d rather lie there and suffer with a hard cock than sleep without her.

Fuck she felt good. She smelled good. I wanted to know if she’d taste good, too.

***

I take a shower and get dressed with plans to meet Jag. Some time whacking a ball and beating the pants off my old friend is just what I need. Burn off all this energy. Sexual tension. Anger at Iadanza. Annoyance that I don’t know where Violet is.

By the time I’m out of the shower, before I’m even dressed, I’m on the edge of my bed tapping out a text to Zack, telling him I want him to add her to surveillance when she’s not with me. It starts today by him tracking her down by her phone.

I can’t help it; I can’t relax not knowing where she is.

He tells me it’ll take until late for him to swing that and he wants to know if I’m concerned for her safety.

I shrug that off and tell him to just ensure his team keeps on top of Iadanza as well.

I toss my phone and thrust my hands into my hair.

Should’ve jerked off in the shower, taken the edge off, but I’m feeling a vague sense of guilt right now, so I deny myself the release.

31

Violet

After nails and mocha iced cappuccinos, we do some wandering at the mall and I find myself splurging and buying myself some nighties. Three. And they’re all sexy. Two were on sale and one… I just had to have.

Yeah. Of course they’re sexy. Because I’m a dummy. A dummy who put the brakes on last night, but wants to be sure that if he climbs in bed with me again, I’m wearing something alluring.

Stupid, Violet. Stupid, stupid.

I don’t tell Susanna anything about the negativity of the night before, nor of Killian climbing in and nearly kissing me, telling me in that deep and sexy voice that he can’t help but want me.

I certainly don’t tell her he held me all night.

Just the memory of it has me heating up with arousal and filled with remorse over stopping him with my near panic attack.

I started the morning off with Susanna, telling her that I didn’t wanna talk about Killian, Ray, or anything to do with me. I wanted her to fill me in on everything about herself. I wanted a play by play of all of our time apart.

Today was declared Susanna Sunday.

She entertained me throughout the day by regaling me with more tales of online dating disasters, a six month long relationship that ended badly, filling me in about work, her family, a vacation she took with her work friend, Brit, whose name came up quite a bit, and I wasn’t surprised because I’d seen her tagging this girl all over social media over the past few months, but then Susanna picked up on my trying to mask my emotion about this other friend and I was assured I’d absolutely love her and that the three of us would do something together very soon.

I felt a little sad, at first, that I’d sort of been replaced, though I could hardly blame her for it, and then told myself more friends was better. I’ve decided to go to lunch with Cammy again next week – at least twice, and maybe to ask Tara, our receptionist if she’d like to see a movie one evening. Tara is nice, sweet, and always trying to chat me up at the coffeemaker.

I want to expand my circle again.

Susanna was still in touch with some other girls from high school and told me we would be hearing from Kate, a good friend from back in the day, about a bridal shower soon. She had gotten a Facebook message late last week asking for contact details for me and had passed on my mailing address for an invite to the shower and the wedding.

The idea of doing normal things is appealing. And frightening.

I want to feel like myself again and spending time with Suse definitely helped with that, but I still feel a little zombie-ish. And in the moments where I wasn’t listening to her talk, I was zoning out, wondering what if. What if I let Killian kiss me? What if it went further than that?

The idea of a relationship with him both excites and terrifies me in equal measure. I still feel guarded. And the idea of a physical relationship with anyone terrifies me but yet I have zero confidence to bring it up with Susanna. I know she’ll tell me to go for it, to get back on the horse, but life has to be in limbo for at least the next week and a half. Likely longer as I take time to detox from my relationship with Ray.

I really do need time. Time to fortify myself. Time to heal.

I played another what if game.

What if Ray had gotten me aside while he had a gun? What if Ray had gotten to Killian with that gun? Why the heck did Ray have a gun?

And what now? The clock is ticking. He doesn’t have all the time in the world to come up with Killian’s money. I can’t even let myself dwell on the what if question about what would happen if Ray couldn’t pay Killian back on time. Because if the answer is bad, then my heart might break. Because how can I be falling for a guy who would murder somebody?

I don’t wanna be falling for a bad guy.

But I might be.

Is he a bad guy?

***

I pull up to Killian’s building at ten thirty at night after a long, lovely evening with Susanna and her mom. I park in visitors’ parking and a security guy eyes me as I approach the front desk.

“Hi. I’m staying with Killian Coulter in Penthouse two and I forgot to get a key for the garage, so is it okay if I just go up, see if he’s home, get it and then move my car?”

“I’ll have to announce you,” he says, scanning a clipboard on his desk. “There’s no note here.”

“No problem,” I tell him, and he directs me to wait in a sitting area near the elevators.

I sit down. And I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more. And I’m starting to wonder if I should go to Susanna’s for the night. Maybe he’s not home.

It’s been at least fifteen or twenty minutes and finally, the guard comes over and tells me he’ll escort me upstairs.

We get into the elevator and he puts a key in for an express ride up.

After I thank him and get off the elevator, I try the door. It’s locked, so I knock.

The door swings open and Killian’s got a face like thunder.

It makes me rear back.

He gestures for me to step in and slams the door.

My back goes arrow straight with the shock of the noise and the look on his face.

“You’re fine,” he observes, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah,” I squeak, feeling myself shrink.

“So, where have you been?” he demands.

“Sitting in the lobby for almost half an hour.”

“You know I don’t mean that.”

“And before that, um…” I take in his appearance as I stammer. He’s dressed in sweats, looks like he’s been interrupted during a workout. And he looks furious. “I spent the day with Susanna.”

“You think about saying something?”

I blink.

“I didn’t…” I blink twice, “didn’t think I was actually a prisoner here.”

What I’ve said could come across as snarky if it had a snarky tone. It doesn’t, though. My voice sounds meek. And I feel a pang of shame for it.

“You don’t think it might’ve been, I dunno, courteous to say something to me?” He glares daggers at me. “Also obviously didn’t think I’d worry that maybe Raymond grabbed you after not hearing from you all fucking day.”

My face falls.

“Didn’t think to send a text, leave a note?” he adds.

I swallow, but not without difficulty.

He twists the lock, jabs at a few buttons on the alarm panel and storms to the kitchen where he takes a bottle of water from the fridge and downs half of it.

I take a deep breath before speaking. “I apologize. Though if you were worried, maybe you could’ve texted or called to ask me.”

He waves his hand as if to say whatever and stalks off.

And I’m left standing there, trembling.

He only walks maybe four or five paces before he turns back around and glares at me. “Maybe I would’ve but thought maybe you were dodgin’ me because of last night.”

“I had those plans with her already,” I defend.

“And you didn’t think to say?” He cocks an eyebrow.

I shrug. “I guess I didn’t.”

He frowns and then strides toward me, voice thundering, “That guy had a loaded fucking gun last night!”

I instinctively back up until my back is against the door.

He stops, six feet away, anger morphing to concern.

“Violet?”

I’m shivering hard. I’m shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I’m-”

“Hey.” He finishes his approach and reaches out toward my face and I find myself on the floor, hugging my knees, hiding my face.

“Fuck.” He grunts and then squats. “Violet… I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

I nod but my face is buried in my knees.

“Baby.” He touches my shoulder.

I squeeze my eyes tight and recoil even more.

I feel him move away but keep my face hidden.

“Here,” he says.

I look up.

He’s gotten me a bottle of water.

I shakily take it.

I look at him and his eyes are filled with concern, remorse too, I think. I open my water bottle.

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” I say. “You’re upset and I just… it’s The Ray effect.”

His eyes narrow. “Explain that.”

“He would get aggressive and scare me and you were…”

“Aggressive.”

I nod and then take a sip. I choke on it and it takes me a second to recover. And then Killian is right there, rubbing my back, trying to help, in a squat in front of me, hair in his concerned eyes.

He thrusts a hand through it to get it out of the way. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I’ve had a shitty few days. And I felt like a jerk for last night. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“You were mad at me for not letting you hurt Ray. You were mad at Ray. And then last night things got weird,” I say.

“I was worried and pissed off, but don’t make excuses for me. Isn’t that what you did for him in the early days? You told me that, remember? You shouldn’t have to make excuses for someone else’s bad behavior.”

“These aren’t early days for us, Killian; there’s no us. I’m just the pathetic, broken marker you’re trying to help while you get your money back from my loser ex who refuses to accept he’s an ex.” I sniffle and take another sip of the water.

His eyes actively search my face, and this makes me uncomfortable, so I decide to get up off the floor, which must look just so pathetic. That’s how I feel. Pitiful.

“I apologize for being a poor houseguest. I’m sorry; I like to spend Sundays with Susanna. We made a pact today to do it wherever possible, so I’ll plan to do something with her next Sunday, too. Maybe you can lend me a set of spare keys to borrow for the rest of the time I’m here.”

He continues to stare from his squat.

And I stand there feeling silly.

“And you went out yesterday,” I say, “and didn’t say anything to me, so I kinda used that in my head as justification to not say anything, because yes, I felt weird about last night. About how you were before Ray texted me last night. About how I reacted in the … um… bed. About… all of it. I’m sorry you were concerned. I didn’t think about it that way, didn’t think about how after last night you might be worried about Ray.”

Finally, he rises. He scratches his chin, looking thoughtfully at me.

I try one more stab at an apology. “I’m fucked up. I’m sorry. Please accept my apology.”

His expression doesn’t change so I keep babbling.

“Fucked up from this three-year relationship that’s technically not fully over in his mind even though it’s been over for me for a lot longer than I’ve admitted aloud because I’m so messed up. I don’t know if he fully knows or has accepted I’m done. I just… I can’t even think about starting anything else with someone until I get out of this limbo-”

He cuts me off. “I’ll get keys here for you. The code I gave you the other night is your alarm code.” He walks down the hall to his bedroom and comes back out and hands me a set of keys on a silver ring.

And my mouth is still open from where he cut me off mid-sentence.

“There’s the key to the front door, the garage, and I’ll get you a spare later for the recreation floor with the gym, pool, and shit. Something happens again, you text or call me, not go to the fucking doorman unless you can’t get me.”

“Thank you. But, you said you weren’t gonna stop me from talking and-”

“If I let you finish what you were saying, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tracking him down and laying a beating on him, so what do you want? You wanna talk?”

I shake my head.

“I’ll drive you to work and back. You tell me if you have plans otherwise. I’ll do the same.”

I nod. “I should go get my car and put it in the-”

“I’ll do it.” He holds his hand out. I reach into my bag and grab my keys. My hands are still shaky and I can see his jaw muscles bulging as he takes them. He walks out without saying another word.

With a hollow feeling in my chest, I head to the guestroom and stay there until morning, remembering that the bag from the mall is on the front seat. Guess I’ll get that later.

***

I wake at least five times through the night.

Killian does not climb in bed with me.

***

Monday morning, he’s in the kitchen when I wake. Today, he’s in a suit. He sees me and immediately turns his back on me. I blanch, but then realize he’s reaching into the cupboard for the travel mug. He pours me a cup of coffee and fetches the creamer I like from the fridge.

“Good morning,” I greet.

And I see on the end of the counter, my bag of new nighties. He brought it up last night, I guess. My keys are sitting on the counter, too.

I bite my lip, wondering if he looked in the bag.

I can smell his shampoo and his bodywash. His aftershave. His hair is still wet. He looks amazing. And pissed off.

“Morning,” he says, passing me the cup.

“Thank you.” I avoid his eyes. They’re burning into me, though – I know it.

“Mm hm.”

He pours coffee to-go for himself and pops the lid on.

“Ready?” he asks.

My eyes finally meet his.

He hasn’t smiled. Now he’s not even looking me in the face. He’s being all-business.

My heart sinks.  “Yep.”

***

He opens the car door for me and closes it behind me. He then says nothing on the way to the office. Not one thing. Neither do I.

His face is expressionless, but there’s a definite vibe of something that wasn’t there before. It’s formal. And it makes me more uncomfortable than when he was being too familiar.

We’re even in a different vehicle today, an SUV, and this means more space between us than in his sports car.

“See you at five,” he says pulling up to the curb.

“Have a good day,” I say and our eyes meet.

His are cold. Cold enough to chill me to the marrow. I swallow and get out of the car, clumsily dropping my purse and then getting half caught in the car door before I finally find my way onto the sidewalk. The door is barely closed before he squeals away.

Squeals.

He can’t get away fast enough.

Shit.

Monday passes in a busy blur and I’m grateful to have not too much time to think about anything but my job. I have a working lunch meeting with a vendor, deal with several rush orders and a lost shipment snafu, and then a system crash trying to send a purchase order to my biggest supplier, and before I know it, five o’clock hits and I’m filled with dread. I send a text to Killian.

“I’m sorry. I’m having a system problem and didn’t realize it was five already. I need another half an hour or so before I can leave. I’m so sorry. I can take a cab to your place.”

Truthfully, it might only be ten minutes for me to sort out the issue, though it could be longer. I don’t know. But I also don’t relish the thought of being in a car with him after this morning, so it’ll work to my advantage if he leaves.  Maybe he’ll be pissed enough about wasting the trip that he’ll let me start taking my own car again.

As soon as I have this thought, I don’t want it. I kind of like that he’s taking me to work and picking me up.

A minute goes by while I re-boot my system and I take that time to dash to the other side of the office where I know I can look down to see the front of the building.

He’s there, at the curb.  I wonder if he got my text.

I go back to my desk and see the reply.

Killian: “I’ll wait.”

Shit.

I tap out a reply.

“Ok. I’ll try to hurry. Sorry.”

It takes me until five twenty before I’m done.

As I step outside, I see him reclined in the driver’s seat, looking like he’s taking a nap.

Before I can get all the way there, he’s snapped up to sitting position, is out, rounding the SUV and opening my door for me.

“Hi. Sorry about that,” I whisper, feeling like my cheeks are burning up.

He flexes his jaw, but then speaks gently. “It’s fine. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a problem with my system talking to the other server at the… never mind. It’s just kind of archaic the way we do things with this one supplier, so yeah, it’s fine. I got it all done.” I click my seatbelt and he shuts the door and comes back around.

“How are you?” I ask.

“Y’know,” he replies with a shrug.

He starts up and off we go.

I don’t know. But okay, more of the same vibe as this morning lingers in the air.

“I’m dropping you off and then I’ve got stuff to do, so you’re on your own for dinner. We left before Patricia arrived this morning, so you didn’t get a chance to meet her. She wasn’t planning to come back until next Monday, she has something happening Thursday, but if there’s anything you need or want done, I’ll have her come another day this week.”

“I’m good,” I say.

“You can meet her next Monday then.”

“That’s probably not even necessary,” I reply.

He shoots me a strange look, so I explain.  “Next Monday we’re almost at the… you know…two-week mark.”

His eyes go back to the road.  Annoyed. I’m pretty sure that’s what the look was.

“So, um, yeah. I’ll be going home, I guess, and so it’s probably pointless to introduce me to your staff.”

“We’ll see what happens,” he mumbles.

What does that mean? I don’t ask. I fiddle with the zipper on my coat for the rest of the short ride back to his place amid tense silence.

***

I’m in the kitchen, getting a drink of water after changing out of my work clothes into sweats and that’s when I see him leaving.

He’s changed out of the suit into nice dark jeans and a button-down shirt with a blazer. He looks like he’s going out somewhere nice and he’s heading for the door like he’s in a big hurry.

His eyes bounce in my direction just briefly as he heads to the door. “Later.”

“Bye,” I whisper.

He presses buttons on the alarm panel, and he’s gone. He’s still pissed off at me. And I’m feeling a little lost.

Three hours later, I’m in my room watching television, feeling like I’m in a real funk, when I get a text.

Killian: I won’t be back tonight. Take your car to work in the morning. Patricia is stopping by to pack a bag for me and get it dropped off. She’ll say hello before she goes.

Pack a bag? How long will he be gone? He hasn’t said, so I don’t ask.

Instead, I reply with a thumbs up.

Less than an hour later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door.

I jump up and open it to an attractive thirtyish woman with hazel eyes and a blonde pixie cut. She stands there with what seems like a fake smile fixed on her face. She’s well-dressed, polished. She isn’t dressed like a housekeeper type to me, more like someone who works in an office.

She takes me in with a look of surprise.

I’m in sweats, my feet are bare, and I’ve put my hair up in a messy knot. I’ve washed all my makeup off and I’m sure I don’t make the best first impression, given that I’ve been lying in bed for hours.

“Hi.”

“I’m Patricia. I just wanted to say hello. I had to drop by for Killian.”

“Yes, he said you’d be by. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I expected more work, but you’re a tidy houseguest. I wanted to do your laundry, but I wasn’t sure if that would upset you, so I didn’t touch it.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. I can’t imagine someone cleaning up after me. It’s okay, I can do my own laundry. Handle keeping things clean in here. Don’t worry about me.”

She smiles. “That’s what I come for. Please don’t hesitate to make yourself comfortable. I shopped this morning, but found nothing with any indication of your dietary preferences beyond the things Killian asked me to stock, so…”

“I’m not too fussy,” I say. “I’ll be fine with whatever is here.”

“Oh. Well, if you change your mind, feel free to leave a note on the corkboard in the laundry room. I left my number there in case you need anything before then or if you have something specific in mind or any questions for me. Feel free to send me a text message. Have a good evening.”

“Thanks very much,” I say. “You, too.”

She gives me a curious look before she nods and goes.

She’s probably just wondering who I am and what I’m doing here. I have no idea how long Killian has lived here, but the fact that he furnished a room for me probably gave her pause if she’s a longtime employee.

I go to the kitchen and survey the contents of the fridge. It’s stocked with all sorts of healthy food choices as well as a whole whack of snack options, too. And I see the makings of what I know is most likely the salad I talked about. I see bocconcini balls, chicken breasts, all sorts of salad ingredients. A large, ripe avocado. I almost want to make it and leave some for him in the fridge, but he’s not going to be here and he’s angry with me, so I close the fridge and, having no appetite, wander back to my room and decide to take a long, hot shower.

32

Killian

I’m sitting in the den in my lake house. I’m in front of a roaring fire because it’s cold as fuck outside and I bought this drafty old house with a broken furnace with plans to remodel. I haven’t gotten to it yet.

I’m sitting by myself on a Monday night in this dump staring at my phone with a drink in my hand, watching Violet in my apartment.

Because…why?

I can’t get her out of my head, that’s why. And she’s in my place right now, eating a bowl of cereal at my table looking lonely. And if I’m there with her, I’ll do something. I’ll try to kiss all those broken pieces of her back together. I’ll carry her to my bed and fuck her before she’s ready. I’ll kill Raymond. Something…

That’s why I’m here. A bit of distance.

For a split second, I wondered if I was being played by her, because I generally feel that way about women - but it was only for that split second, because my gut told me she is who I think she is.

Though, because I’m feeling shit I’ve never felt before, I also spent the day planting bugs in my own goddamn condo. Telling myself it’s smart to watch and see if she’s up to anything, though in my gut I know she isn’t.  More than anything, I just wanna look at her, watch her. Know she’s safe. And watch her.  I’ve only just started to watch her today, but know I could do it all day.

I put a camera in the kitchen, two angles of the living area, my bedroom, and in her bedroom.

Not her bathroom, I’m not a fucking sicko, nor her closet, but unfortunately, she didn’t change into her sweats after work in her bathroom or the walk-in closet today. She changed at the end of her bed, in front of the camera.

I walked into my own room to change after bringing her home from her job and immediately logged into the app on my phone and watched her strip down to her lacy dark blue bra and matching thong and get into her track pants and hoodie.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she pulled those clothes off and slid into the other ones. Couldn’t swallow as she stretched before she got the hoodie on to work out some kinks in her back. Then she took her hair up into a fist  and hunted through her bag for an elastic.

While she tied her hair up into a knot, I imagined it in my fist.

But then she sat, and she moped.

And then I saw her in the kitchen and barely said goodbye before I immediately opened the app as I got into the elevator.

I watched her mope while I was in the elevator going to my car, I watched her on my phone screen at every goddamn red light I sat at and then I got here and watched her some more.

She stared out the window, at the bedspread, and at the ceiling, blowing out long breaths, sighing, picking at her nail polish, and then she cleaned all the polish off her fingernails and repainted them before she dozed off.

I watched her sleep. I found myself cussing because she’s even appealing when she sleeps with her mouth open.

And then I watched her react to my text. And that made my gut churn as I saw how fucking upset I made her. I can practically feel her wheels turning.

I watched her wander through the kitchen. I half expected her to snoop, but she didn’t. She didn’t go near my bedroom, she hasn’t looked in any drawers or closets beyond the kitchen, though she could’ve done that before I put the bugs in but somehow I don’t think she has.

I think Violet is who I think she is.

A good girl, a sweet, caring, and beautiful girl who trusted the wrong guy and then got dragged into the gutter with him.

And speaking of Ass-wipe, that shit stain; Wes tells me he spent an hour in the apartment of the old lady on the ground floor of the building today. Wes caught through the window the view of him changing out a lightbulb for her before going upstairs to Violet’s place carrying a bottle of whisky he must’ve gotten from the old woman before crashing for the night after drinking most of the bottle with a sour look on his face as he watched television.

Fucking goof.

I’m sitting here, an hour and a half away from home, away from her because I needed some space to get my head together and decide what I’m fucking doing.

Space, yeah, but I still want to see what she’s doing while I get it. Really, I’d like to know what she’s doing every second of the day. I’m having one of Zack Jacobs’ guys stop into her office tomorrow under the guise of inspecting the smoke alarms and sprinkler systems on that floor so he can plant a camera to point at where Violet spends 8:30 to 5:00 every day.

For her safety.

Right. And my satiety.

Her phone is being tracked now, too, for location. And I’m avoiding the urge I’ve got to dig deeper and spy on her through cloning it.

But looking at her now, seeing how she’s been all night, watching her interact with Patricia, I don’t need that.

What I do need, is to turn this fucking thing off and go to bed. Sleep. I didn’t sleep last night. Not a fucking wink.

I was pissed off knowing she was dodging me. It’s not that this girl isn’t interested in me – I know she is. It’s that fucking Iadanza wrapped her around his finger and sucked three years away where, in the process, he sucked the life out of her.

I’ve never been obsessed with a woman like this.  Never been obsessed with a woman, period. I’ve been a strictly casual guy always. Haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I was sixteen and that only lasted a summer.

I’m torn. I shouldn’t want someone who spent three years with him – the fuckhead. But I do. Badly.

And I’m warring with her asking me not to hurt him.

Because the other night I wanted to put a bullet in him with the gun he brought to my fucking club. I still don’t know if he’d have had the balls to use it, but I also know I wasn’t about to take any chances. I am not a gambling man. I calculate instead. Unlike that shithead.

I had no plans to go back and fuck her to get revenge on him like I threatened. But, if she’d let me put my mouth on hers, I know it would’ve been the beginning of us. Fuck. Who am I kidding? We’ve already begun.

I’m losing my loose hold on patience. I want to go home and climb in with her. Sleep with her silky hair all over me, her scent in my nose, the knowledge of what she sounds like, what she feels like when she’s taking my cock.

On that thought, I take another long draw from my drink and lay my head on the arm of the couch. I haul down the blanket that’s draped over the back of it and kick my shoes off. I yawn and then stare at the dancing flames licking at the top of the fireplace until my phone slides out of my hand and lands on the rug beside me. My eyes drift shut. I’m drunk. Very.

Behind my eyelids I see the art hanging over Violet’s bed, see how she stared at it with awe on her face. And then I see her in my mind in the field here beside this house. That field was overgrown before the weather got cooler and I finally had it mowed. I left it wild because it was this big field of color, nothing but grass and wildflowers until you get to the ocean. In my head I see her there, amid dandelions gone to seed. She’s in a pretty dress. She’s twirling around with all the seeds floating around her and then she falls into my arms and it feels like perfection because in the vision, I know she’s mine. Just mine.

And nothing is standing in the way of it.

Space isn’t what I need. She’s what I need. What I want.

But maybe she needs a little space from me. From Raymond. From all of it.

33

Violet

I’m reading an article online about the Numbers opening and in amongst a dozen photos of the place, the people… there’s me. Me! I’m in a picture with Killian on the red carpet.

Wow, he looks good. He looks so good. As I’m drooling down my chin at the sight of him in that tuxedo, Cammy’s head pops up over the half-wall between our cubicles.

“Did you see that guy over there fudging around with the sprinklers? H-o-t.”

I look over my shoulder and see a workman on a ladder not ten feet away. I can only see the back of him.

“Shh,” I say to her. “Have you no shame? He can hear you.”

“I’m single,” she states. “And I don’t see no ring on his finger, neither. Holy shit, girl. Is that you?” Her eyes are wide, aimed at my computer screen.

“Uh…”

She’s suddenly rounded the wall and is in my cubicle, crowding me so she can see my screen. She looks at me with her mouth in a giant O.

“Oh my word. Killian Co… Killian Coulter? The guy that Deb and … oh wow. Girl, that man is fire. Fi-yar!”

I roll my eyes, but also can’t help but giggle a bit. Cammy’s reactions are so over-the-top right now.

She’s not wrong about Killian, though.

“Look at how gorgeous you are!” She stares at me and her mouth drops open before her eyes bounce back to the screen. “Gorg! Is he your main squeeze now?”

“No, I just did a favor accompanying him,” I say absently. “And he did one for me, I guess.”

I have to admit that I do like that picture of me. Even more than that, I like how Killian’s arm is around me. It looks like protectiveness. And that’s exactly how it felt when the picture was taken.

“Explain.”

I wave my hand. “Never mind. It was just a favor. No biggie.”

“What about his … reputation?”

“Pardon?” I ask.

“His… you know… connections.”

I shrug. “I know nothing about any of that. It was just a favor.”

She studies me half a second before announcing, “Welp… it’s lunchtime. You’re coming today. Get your bag. I’m buying and you’re spilling.”

“I’m spilling nothing,” I tease. “You said it yourself… Fort Knox over here.”

“Yeah… well… I’m Nancy Drew,” Cammy declares, folding her arms over her ample chest, “And I’m gonna find out!”

I laugh and grab my bag. I close the lid of my laptop and follow her to the elevator.

***

It was weird driving myself to work this morning from Killian’s place. Setting the alarm and locking Killian’s door, being in that apartment all by myself all night without him there.

I love that apartment, though.  Tonight, I’m thinking about using the gym downstairs. I haven’t had a good workout in days.

Last night, I finally made myself eat a bowl of cereal when my stomach was growling at midnight. I found an opened box of Lucky Charms in the pantry and enjoyed the heck out of that bowl of sugary goodness, unable to remember the last time I’d had those.

I didn’t sleep very well. I wondered where Killian was that he had to be gone all night. When he’d be back.

I also felt a pang of sadness at the notion that maybe he was out with somebody. He certainly looked good when he left. Though… he always looks good.

That Jessa girl, maybe. She certainly seemed like she wanted to get his attention at Numbers on Saturday night.

I have no right to feel that way. It’s not like I’m ready to date. Am I officially even single yet? As of next week, I hope I will be. Though logistically, I have no idea how it’ll work.  Will Ray do the smart thing and skip town and never turn up again? Will he try to rob a liquor store to get Killian’s money and wind up in prison? Will he not come up with the money and then get ‘disappeared’?

I really don’t think Killian is like that. But who knows? Not like I’m brave enough to ask. Though, I don’t exactly think of myself as a great judge of character these days.

Lunch with Cammy is good. Debbie doesn’t join us; is out for a couple days on a course for her job at the law firm. Cammy and I go to a little sushi place two blocks from work and she insists on buying. She tries to get me to talk about Killian.  I deflect and  get her to talk about herself instead, and it works for a while, too.

She’s in accounts payable at the company and I already know she’s going to school at night to get her CPA designation. She’s thirty and single, much to the chagrin of her parents who keep trying to arrange blind dates with people through their church. She and her cousin share a basement apartment in a house they bought together as an investment and they rent out the upper two floors to students.

Toward the end of the lunch hour, she abruptly stops sharing anecdotes of the crazy college kids living upstairs from her and the fact that one of them is flirting with her - a twenty-two-year-old guy who she describes as ‘ripped’ and with the bluest eyes she’s ever seen.

“Wait! You’re trying to distract me. What’s the story with your fiancé, with the sexy club owner? Tell me.”

“I’m in the midst of breaking up with Ray and I’m staying in Killian’s guest room right now.”

Her eyes go wide.

“It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like it,” she retorts and then takes a big sip of her drink, eyes on me, waiting for me to elaborate. When I don’t, she slaps the table. “That’s it; we need to get your lips loosened up. Cocktails Friday should help. You always say no so we stopped asking, but you need to come to McHop’s with us. For real.”

“Who’s us?” I ask.

“Me, Deb, some of the other girls from our office, probably. Tara, Lorraine. Deb’s coworker Molly. Come.”

“I might come. I’ll let you know closer to then, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna talk about anything that I’m not ready to discuss.”

“So, just come. Have fun. Let your hair down. It’ll be a laugh. Usually we only stay for one or two drinks. Sometimes we close the place. No pressure, other than to show up. Come for a drink, even a mocktail, and after that, it’s up to you.”

“I’ll try,” I say.

As we’re heading back to work, I get a prickly feeling up the back of my neck. Am I being watched? I look around curiously as it dawns that Wesley Traynor could be following me like he was last Friday. But I have no idea if Killian has Ray being watched. I’d guess yes. It also occurs to me that it could even be Ray watching me and I look around some more, biting my lip, feeling paranoid. I see nothing unusual and I nearly walk into a bus shelter before Cammy steers me in the right direction, joking that I’ve got my mind on Killian.

Maybe it’s just paranoia. Maybe someone is watching me.

***

Tuesday, 9:00 pm

A text alert interrupts my mindless staring at the TV in my room. I perk up at the phone and feel my face fall as my eyes scan the lock screen.

Killian: I’ll be gone a few more days. Message me if anything urgent comes up or if you need anything.

My lower lip protrudes in a pout and I drop my phone on the bed and then push it away with my foot, like the phone itself is to blame.

I don’t know why this leaves me feeling almost… depressed.  I flop back onto the bed and blow the hair out of my eyes and then I fetch my phone and reply.

Would it be okay if I use your bath?

He replies instantly.

Make yourself at home.

Should I ask him if I’m being tailed? Should I ask him if I can use the gym downstairs? Have Susanna over? Should I try to find out if he’s angry at me, still, or really just busy somewhere?

Maybe I should just keep my head down and wait until the two weeks are up with Ray and go from there.

Wait and see if Ray commits a felony and lands himself in jail. Wait and see if Ray just leaves town, never to be heard from again.

Wait and see if Ray turns up empty-handed and disappears.

Or worse.

And that he had a gun still just chills me to the bone. I’m sure Killian’s security staff confiscated it, but still… so many questions and no answers.

A little voice tells me I can’t expect answers if I’m not brave enough to ask questions.

But I’m not feeling so brave just yet.

***

I spend Wednesday and Thursday alone, too. No call, no text, no Killian. Thursday night, I spend an hour on the phone with Susanna. I tell her I haven’t seen Killian all week, that he must be away on business, and she gets weird about it, asking me half a dozen questions. I tell her that I know nothing, which is true. I head into Killian’s laundry room to fetch my clean laundry and suggest while I’m in there that she come with me tomorrow after work to McHop’s with the girls from work. I’m feeling like I really wanna go out, be social, find myself again. She heartily agrees.

It’s been on my mind all day that there’s now just one week left until Ray’s deadline. And today was payday for me, too, so Ray could’ve very well noticed my pay didn’t go into the account if he’d gone to check.

Would that give him another clue that I am absolutely done?

***

8:45 pm - Friday

I’m tipsy.

Okay, more than tipsy. I’m drunk. And I’m having such a laugh.

It’s me, Suse, Cammy, Debbie, and Tara. There were three other girls and two guys, but they left.

Cammy and Susanna get along famously and they’re plotting to try to get me to go home with the bartender. This bartender, named Corey, seems like he’s in on it. He keeps making goo-goo eyes at me.

He’s cute. But he’s blond. He’s not as tall or as built as Ray, but I’ve decided that I’m done with all blond men for the foreseeable. I tell the girls that and they laugh.

“You didn’t swear off all men, just blond ones?” Susanna asks, then she mumbles that she knows of a certain tall, dark-haired, green-eyed man being a good option without saying his name.

Deb leans in and says, “Killian? I heard he’s well-hung, fucks like he’s a professional and gets all five-star reviews in the bedroom. If you’re gonna get back on the horse, girl, might as well get on a horse that knows how to give you a ride.”

“Shut up,” I giggle and slap her arm, but I’m blushing. “I’m betting he does, though. I’ve seen his hipbones and I would not complain if they bruised me.”

The girls all look surprised, probably because I’ve been trying to keep things PG every time they’ve veered into this territory with me until now. And now they’re laughing. In fact, Susanna is doubled-over with her laughter before she sobers and asks how I know anything about his hipbones.

“I walked in on him in the bathroom,” I say.

“Did you get full-frontal?” Tara asks.

“No. The towel was in the way,” I pout. “I’m gonna stop gossiping now. Too much truth juice.” I shake my almost empty glass.

“Corey! Another shot of truth juice over here,” Susanna shouts, pointing at me and Cammy then adds, “Make hers a double.”

I giggle.

I head to the bathroom and find I’m glowing really good. My face is tingling from all the smiling and I already decided to take a cab back to Killian’s apartment so there’s been no holding back with the imbibing.

I’m sitting on the toilet with my phone in my hand and I find myself in my browser, doing a search for the article about the Numbers opening so I can look at the picture of us together again. I smile at the sight of it and then screenshot, trim it, and decide to make it my lock screen. Just until tomorrow. Tonight, I can look at it as much as I want.

While washing my hands, my phone rings.

Killian.

Speak of the devil.

The sexy devil.

The swoony devil.

The green-eyed God of a man. Rawr.

I quickly dry my hands and answer it, face going hot and excitement buzzing in my veins.

“Hello-oh,” I sing out.

“Violet?”

“Hiya, stranger,” I drawl and then I check myself out in the mirror. My eyes are a little smudgy, so I use a knuckle to try to get some of the eye makeup off. “Where’ve you been all my life? I mean, all my week.” I giggle.

Whoa. Talk about a foot-in-mouth moment.

I give myself a smirk in the mirror.

“How you doin’?” I use my best Joey from the show Friends impersonation.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“Am I?” I sway on my feet a little. “I might be,” I point at myself and ask the mirror. “Are you drunk, Violet?” And then I nod. “You sure look like you are.”

“What the fuck?” he asks.

I smile at myself. “I’m out for the girls-after-work Friday thing for a few cocktails that I never go to but always wanna and so I said yeah this time. I said hell yeah. Don’t worry; I’m not driving. Are you back then? At your place?”

“I’m picking you up,” he informs.

“You’re what?” I inquire.

“I’m picking you up, Violet.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can take a cab. Plus, I’m not done having fun yet anyways and when I am, I can take a cab.”

“How much more fun do you need?” he asks.

He sounds surly. I decide to tell him that.

“You sound surly. And lots of fun. Tonight is fun night, don’t ‘cha know? It’s hell yeah night.”

He says nothing.

Tara comes in and waves.

“Hi!” I greet with enthusiasm.

“Who are you talking to?” Killian asks.

“My friend from work.”

“Which friend?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Why are you calling me?”

“I’m coming to get you. We’ll talk then.”

“I don’t need you to come get me,” I inform.

“Yeah, sounds like you do.”

He’s being awfully bossy.

“You’re being awfully bossy,” I tell him.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“That’s okay, I can get a cab. Or… maybe I’ll sleep over at Susanna’s. It’s the weekend.”

“I need to see you,” he states.

And at that, my heart skips a beat. At the words. At the way he says it.

“Why?” I ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. But I’m on my way. Be there soon. Half an hour long enough for you to have one more drink with your friends?”

“Wait. Be where soon? Do you even know where I am? Do you still have a spy on me?” I gasp. “You’ve got a spy on me! Did they tell you what I said about your hip bones? Is that why you’re calling me now?”

Shit. I said the hip bones thing.

“I’ll be there soon,” he tells me. “Don’t you dare leave.”

“Don’t I dare leave?” Now I’m a little annoyed. “Maybe I’ll leave if I wanna leave,” I threaten.

“If you leave after I’ve just told you not to, you’re gonna be over my knee, Violet.”

I stare at the mirror, dumbfounded for a second. And then I flinch as what he just said penetrates. “Over your… Are you threatening to spank me?”

“See you in half an hour.”

I laugh. “You are. You’re threatening to spank me. Oh goodie.”

“Or less,” he amends.

The call cuts off and I’m bracing myself with my hand on the counter, staring in the mirror open-mouthed.

Tara flushes the toilet and comes out of the stall, smiling. “What was that?”

“That was…” I blink a couple times. “That might’ve been the hottest conversation I’ve ever had. Or maybe I’m the drunkest I’ve ever been. Did that just happen?”

She finishes washing her hands and grabs me. “Sounded like it did. C’mon. Let’s go dance. Susanna requested some songs specifically for you.”

***

A drink is put in my hand by Debbie and we’re all dancing to Magic Stick.

I take a big sip and set my drink on the sidebar beside the DJ booth where a bunch of drinks and purses are lined up and being guarded by the DJ. I know this because the girls at work talk about how at McHop’s on Fridays, the DJ takes care of them by watching their stuff while they dance, making certain no one messes with them.

Friday nights are dance music nights after nine o’clock. It’s not nine yet, but I think someone told them to pretend it was.

“Violet can’t hear 50 Cent and not be up dancing,” Susanna shouts. “That’s why I requested this. The DJ thinks you’re hot, too, Violet.” She winks. “So, you’ve got your pick.”

I shake my head. “You’re crazy.”

“Who’s it gonna be?” Debbie asks, pulling the elastic out of her long, raven hair and shaking it free. “Corey, the bartender with the blond hair and chocolate eyes, or Jerome, the chocolate DJ with the giant muscles?”

I laugh again and twirl around with my hands up in a shrug posture.

“My money’s on the guy on the phone who just threatened to spank her,” Tara calls out.

“Who?” Cammy demands.

Tara puts her mouth to her straw and wiggles her eyebrows.

I laugh and wave my hand as I sway to Lil’ Kim and the magical voice of 50 Cent.

And I’m only half-thinking about the fact that Killian said he was coming here because I’m having so much fun. And I’m feeling a little brave about the whole thing as I think on it while dancing with Susanna, Tara, Debbie, and Cammy because he left me alone all week after giving me all that attitude and now he’s coming to get me? Who does he think he is?

A gangster holding me for some ransom maybe?

I scoff.

Is he some sort of gangster?

I don’t really know.

But what I do know is that because of him, I’m up here dancing and feeling lighter than I’ve felt in a really long time.

Did I tell him where I am?

I can’t remember.

***

It’s a Fitty superset I suppose, because after Magic Stick, I get to dance to a super-extended version of Just a Lil Bit that feels like it goes on for forever. And then we get Candy Shop, and more girls join the dancefloor. Men surround the area, watching with avid interest.

And then I see him as I’m shimmying my butt against Susanna’s butt.

Killian.

How long has he been standing there watching me? He has a drink in his hand and it’s only half full.

I blow a stray curl off my forehead and wave at him, excited to see him, therefore forgetting that I’m also annoyed at him.

I skip over to the edge of the dancefloor.

“Hi. I’m still here. I guess you can’t spank me,” I giggle and then turn and strut back to the dance huddle and start swaying some more. I spin and start pointing at him and singing along while I continue wiggling my butt.

The lyrics I’m singing are more than a little suggestive.

His eyebrows go up and he folds his arms across his chest. His eyes are on me in a way that I feel. I feel it between my legs.

Susanna bumps me with her shoulder.

“Girl, you’re gonna get it.”

I laugh. “Right.”

“No - I’d lay money down that you’re gonna get it tonight. What’s goin’ on there? What haven’t you told me?”

“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, but Susanna knows me.

Me. Suddenly, I feel like the old me. Like a sassier version of myself.

I smile as that thought penetrates and I reach for my drink at the sidebar nearby and finish it. I grab my purse and loop it over my shoulder. Liquid courage, I’ve got it in spades.

“He’s just driving me home. You good to get home or you want me to get him to give you a ride?”

”I could use a ride,” Cammy says, sidling up to us. She waves at Killian with a big smile. And then her eyes move to me and grow larger. She’s impressed with the sight of him. How could she not be?

He doesn’t react. He finishes his drink and sets it on the bar. Then he’s got his eyes on me again. He folds his arms across his chest. He’s wearing an eggplant-colored button-down shirt with a black leather jacket that’s wide open. He’s got on dark jeans and black boots. He hasn’t shaved in days and it looks good on him. The dark and serious expression on his face is aimed at me and gotta say, I kind of dig it.

“Same,” Tara says. “If it’s not a hassle. But, you know… if you need to get home sooner and get your spanking, I can get my sister to pick us all up. She has a minivan.”

I laugh and say, “One sec,” then I head back over to where Killian is and that’s when the bartender is suddenly between us, smiling at me.

“Come chill with me while I’m on a break?” he suggests.

I’m just about to speak, but I don’t need to, because we hear, “Not likely.” Killian says this from behind him. He’s moved in closer and is giving the bartender a look I can only describe as lethal.

Killian hooks an arm around my waist and I’m cradled into his side.

Gulp.  Alrighty then. That’s kind of proprietary.

“Thanks, anyway,” I say to Corey and then look up.  “Killian, did you bring your SUV or your car?”

He frowns. The bartender, still standing there, is forgotten.

“My friends all need rides too,” I explain.

Killian rolls his eyes. “I’ll put them in a cab. You and me are outta here. Now.” He crooks his finger at Susanna.

She comes right over and is all smiles.

I put my arm around his waist and sort of snuggle in.

“You smell good,” I tell him.

He looks down at me and his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“Hey, Killian. How are you, Hot Stuff?” Susanna asks.

“Hey,” he replies and lets me go so he can get his wallet out. “Here. Cab fare for you and the other girls to get home. Me and Violet gotta split.”

He passes her a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.

My expression has fallen as it penetrates that Susanna called Ray “Hot Stuff” in the beginning, too. And then she called him DeathRay, because she wanted him dead, I guess.

The thought is sobering. A little.

“That’s okay,” she tries to hand it back, “We’re cool. You two have a good night, though.” She gives me a beaming smile.

I manage to paint one on.

“Then buy some rounds. Get home safe,” he orders and doesn’t take the money back from Susanna.

“Yes, sir.” She salutes him and tucks it into her bra before she hugs me. “Get it, girl,” she says into my ear without even trying to hide it.

I laugh. “Whatever. Love you, SusieQ.”

“Love you back.” She squishes me with a little growl and then sidesteps away and tap dances with jazz hands over toward the girls, who are all avidly watching us. Debbie looks at Killian with lust all over her face.

Hey. I find myself bristling at that.

I wave goodbye to all of them, feeling Killian put his hand to the small of my back and it’s like a red-hot brand on my skin. “Where’s your coat?”

“In my car.”

“Where’s your car?”

“At work.”

My office is just down the street. Underground parking.

“It okay until the morning?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. “It’s fine there all weekend, really. I can get a cab to work Monday.”

He takes his leather jacket off and puts it over my shoulders as he walks me to the curb, where his SUV is. Right outside the pub.

He beeps the lock and opens the door.

“That’s very gentlemanly,” I say, my eyes sweeping from his very gentlemanly feet straight up to his eyes, which – oh – not so gentlemanly right now. They look almost roguish.

“In you go,” he says in a husky voice.

And I’m smiling until he gets in and closes his door and then it hits me. This scene. How weird it is.

“What’s goin’ on?” I ask him.

“Seatbelt, baby,” he says, starting the car.

I put the belt on.

“Have fun?” he asks.

“Yeah. I haven’t done that in … years. Where’ve you been all week?” I ask. “And why the Mister Bossy attitude?”

He flexes his jaw. “We’ll talk at home.”

“Is something going on?” I ask, suddenly concerned.

He shakes his head, but he’s clenching his jaw.

“Killian?”

“You sounded awful sassy on the phone. Now you’re bein’ all sweet.” His eyes travel my face.

“Well, yeah. I’m tipsy. And tipsy makes me like salted caramel. A little sweet, a little salty.”

His mouth twitches like he’s fighting off a smirk.

I continue talking. “Haven’t been tipsy in public in a long time. Except with you that night you took me to Genesis and that was barely tipsy because it was just a few glasses of wine. This, this is me with girlfriends and feeling a little like the old me again and cocktails and shooters, and… only some nachos and frickles for dinner, so I was sassy on the phone but now I see you and you’re all…” I gesture with a roll of my hand, “all Killian … and…” I shrug. “Guess I’m not brave enough to be sassy in person.” I giggle.

He chuckles with me, and God, it’s handsome. “All Killian?”

“Yep. Why did you cut my night short?” I ask.

“I got home and you weren’t there.”

“And?” I push.

“And…” he says, leaving it hanging.

“I was alone all week,” I inform.

“I’m aware. I was, too,” he says, tipping his head to one side.

And I find a modicum of comfort in that, for some reason. That he was alone. Not shacked up with Jessa or some other girl.

“And you heard about the hip bone thing?” I ask.

“What hip bone thing?” he asks fake-innocently.

“You know,” I say, pouting. “You got a spy following me? I mean… I didn’t see anybody, but do you?”

“I have no one following you, Violet.”

Is he fake-innocent or is he actually innocent on that matter?

“Oh. Then you don’t know the thing I said about your hip bones?”

He flashes me a big smile. We’re at a red light.

“I did, however, watch you dance for the past twenty minutes.”

“Oh,” I reply.

He leans over a little and it’s kind of magnetic, so I lean in, too.

Killian’s eyes rove my face for a minute before his eyes sparkle playfully. “If you weren’t drunk, Violet, I’d kiss you right now.”

I purse my lips briefly before I say, “If I weren’t drunk, Killian, I’d stop you.”

He stares. And the sparkle catches fire.

I stare back, feeling it crackle between us.

He licks his lips and then his hand is cupping my jaw.

I lick my own lips as my lashes lower.

I hear someone honk from behind us. They lay on their horn. Hard.

“Horny!” I grumble, calling over my shoulder. “Oh. Green light,” I add, gesturing to the windshield.

He laughs and because his eyes go back to the road, we move through the intersection. He’s shaking his head with humor as  we take a sharp left after the light.

“Green light. How’s that for irony?” he mutters.

“What do you mean? You got saved by the green light,” I muse aloud and then I reach for the stereo and turn it up. It’s talk radio. I fiddle with it, looking for something better.

“I got saved? Don’t you mean you did?”

“Nope, you. You got saved from the hot mess that is me.” I find a familiar song. I strain to listen, to figure out the song. “Oh!” I gasp. “Fire Woman!” I’m shaking my hair and singing along with my air tambourine.

I get lost in a song I haven’t heard in years that I forgot I loved so much, and before I know it, we’re pulling into the underground at Killian’s building.

And the song ends as he parks, so I’m suddenly faced with the harsh lights of the underground parking garage and my situation.

A situation I don’t want to face right now.

He’s out of the SUV and rounding to open my door.

I open it first and he gives me a look as he catches the handle. “Unless I’m dropping you at the curb for your job, I open your doors. You wait for that.”

My head jerks back. “That’s silly.”

“That’s how it is. Come.” He takes my hand and I hop down, grabbing my purse from the floor of his SUV. He doesn’t let go of my hand. He closes the door and continues holding it until we get to the stairwell, where I break free so I can quickly dash ahead and open the door for him.

I smirk as he flinches. He reacts like it goes against his grain to let me hold that door, but he doesn’t argue about it.

It’s only a few paces before we’re at another door, then into the small hallway with the elevators. The walk isn’t a long enough walk for me to gather my senses before I’m in the elevator with him. An elevator that suddenly feels way smaller than it probably is.

“There’s only a week left,” I blurt. “Six days, actually.”

He presses his button, and we begin the ascent.

“Yep,” he agrees.

“If he doesn’t pay you, are you gonna disappear him?”

He stares at me without reacting. “Is that what you think I’m gonna do?”

I blow out a breath. “Well, he made comments about you. Before. He’d tell stories, talk about you being a millionaire at twenty-five. Said you said when you guys were kids that you’d be there by thirty and---”

“I hit it by twenty-four,” he corrects.

“Oh. Congrats.”

He doesn’t smile.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Gonna disappear him?”

“What do you think I should do if he can’t pay me?”

I look into his eyes. I don’t know how to read his expression. “I don’t know what you planned to do, but I have an idea of what you could do.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me.”

“I think maybe… you could… threaten him to leave me alone since he’s scared of you, and in return for that, I could make a plan to … pay you the money he owes in installments. Plus interest. Could we do that?”

He looks up at the elevator lights while he considers what I’ve said.

My heart is suddenly racing.

“How about we see what happens when the time is up?” he suggests.

The elevator stops.

“But would you consider doing that instead of… hurting him?”

He holds the elevator open with his hand while staring.

“Why would you pay his debts? He deserves that?”

I shake my head. “No. He doesn’t. But you don’t deserve to lose your money. I’d pay it back for you, not for him.”

His eyes flash with what looks like annoyance and he rolls his eyes. “You maybe think he was just bullshitting you, making it sound like he knows people who can make other people disappear?” He scoffs and then gestures for me to exit the elevator.

I push off the bar at the back and head down the hall to his door, which isn’t far. There are only four doors on this floor. Two on either side of me, two on the same side as the elevator. He quickly gets us inside his apartment and then he’s disarming his alarm.

34

Killian

I turn around and she’s standing behind me, plastered against the door, looking meek.

“Lock that,” I say and reach for my jacket, which is still around her shoulders.

I hang it up while she twists the lock. She shivers.

She looks sexy as fuck. She’s wearing a black shirt that, in front looks simple, though attractive even if it’s got one too many buttons undone. Or three too many done up, maybe. It’s the back of it that’s the showstopper. It’s lace with a deep v that shows off her back, tying loosely across the top. She’s got on tight black distressed jeans, a silver belt, silver hoops in her ears, and the black heels that I bought for her that she said were her favorite.

They’re sexy. Her toes are painted fire engine red with sparkles on them.

“You wear those shoes to the office today?” I ask.

She looks down and wiggles her toes. “No. Way too fancy for work. I changed my shoes in my car in the underground. And my shirt.”

“You changed your shirt in a car?”

“Covertly,” she admits.

I shake my head. “Underground parking garages have cameras everywhere, Violet.”

She shrugs. “I had a bra on.”

I’m surprised. And aroused. Though I’ve been aroused since I set eyes on her tonight. No, that’s wrong. I was aroused when she was sassy on the phone with me. When I set eyes on her in the club dancing with Susanna, it took me back. Three years back. And I fucking wished it was the first night I’d set eyes on her all over again. That somehow, magically, that time wasn’t stretched out between us. With her with him, the fuck. With her with anyone but me.

“You have a good time with your friends?”

“A great time. And I needed it. Haven’t danced in forever. And it was kind of a long week.”

“Oh yeah?” I head to the kitchen and reach into the cupboard to pull out two glasses. I then go to the dining area, reach into the sideboard below the wine rack, and pull out a bottle of scotch.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask.

“Got vodka?” she asks.

“I do.”

She reaches into the fridge and pulls out a quart of cranberry raspberry cocktail.

I saw her put it in the fridge with a few things a couple days ago on my app. My app that I spent way too much time watching while we were apart.

I bring her a glass with the shot of vodka to the kitchen island. She pours juice in it and then adds ice from the dispenser on the fridge door.

I reach into her glass and steal an ice cube with my fingers and drop it into my own glass.

She smiles and sips her drink, showing me dimples.

My front teeth skim my bottom lip and I move closer to her.

“What’s a frickle?” I ask.

“Hm?” She asks.

“You said you had nachos and frickles.”

“Fried battered dill pickles. They’re delicious.”

I give my head a shake, smiling.

“I’ll make some for you.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”

“Tomorrow. When I’m not drunk. Though, damn, I wish I had some right now. I wonder if you have the ingredients here. Want me to look?”

I smile and finger one of her corkscrew curls.

“Forget frickles for tonight.”

“Forget frickles? Never.”

I stare at her mouth.

“Where have you been all week,” she asks, the dimples vanishing.

“Doin’ shit that needed doing,” I say. “Did you miss me?”

She sips her drink.  “I’m used to keeping myself company. But yeah, I got lonely. Spending the whole week with my stress. So tonight I let loose a little. It was fun.”

“Good. Except that part where the bartender was trying to pick you up.”

She smiles. “Why would you care?”

I snicker. “Why would I care, Violet?”

Her eyes flash sober for a split second and then she ignores the remark. “The girls were trying to make a match. They told me I needed to get back on the horse. But I wasn’t gonna let him pick me up. I figure I need to make sure my ex knows he’s my ex first. At the very least.” She watches for my reaction to that. I think she likes that I’m jealous.

“You think he’s holding onto hope,” I say.

She frowns. “I mean. I told him more than once that we’re over, so in my mind, I’m single, but yeah. I think he’s stubborn like that.”

“He’ll learn,” I say.

She regards me thoughtfully for a moment, looking a little less drunk. And then she puts her glass to her lips and takes a big sip. And I’m glad she hasn’t again brought up questions about my plans for Raymond Iadanza.

“You looked good on that dance floor,” I tell her, unable to stop myself from thinking that she’d also look great in my bed right about now.

“Been a long time since I spent time on a dancefloor,” she says, a look on her face telling me her mind is trailing off to a time when she didn’t feel like she does now. Defeated. Beat down emotionally.

“What other things did you like to do when you used to dance?” I sip my drink again.

She smiles. “Laugh. Go to comedy clubs. Watch funny movies. Watch cheesy movies. Go to concerts. Plays. Musicals. Even bad ones. Well, especially bad ones and try to not laugh. Try new restaurants. Go on vacations. Go to zoos or museums. Play tennis. Go to sports events.” She shrugs. “Hang out with my friends. My family. Go antiquing and try to upcycle stuff.”

“What sort of stuff did you do with him?” I ask.

She swallows. “Nothing much. Not for the past year and a half, anyway. Stress about stuff. Scramble. Feel bad. Try to be invisible. Cry.” Her face falls and then she’s full-on sobbing. She stumbles forward, looking like she’s gonna run somewhere, likely her bedroom, but I side-step and we collide as I catch her in my arms. She completely falls to pieces. She has my shirt in both of her fists and she’s crying into my chest, her entire body bucking under the outpouring of emotion.

“I wish…” she mutters between stuttered breaths. “I wish it was you that asked me to dance that night. Not hi-him.”

My throat goes dry; I grind my teeth. She mumbles something unintelligible into my shirt as she sobs.

“Me, too, baby,” I whisper, and I don’t think she has any idea how much truth is oozing from those words.

She keeps crying into my chest.

“Fucking jerk just br-broke me. I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore. I’m not who I was. I’m a pathetic mess. I’m sorry. S-sorry. I don’t know why he did that to me. For loving him? For forgiving him? I would’ve done anything for him. I loved him that much. It was eight months before the first big blowup, long enough for me to fall deep, and then it was like a waterfall, that just kept coming and coming. A waterfall of bullshit. And I just let it drown me.” She pulls away and staggers down the hall and I watch her go into her room and close the door.

I stand still, just seething for a minute, feeling my chest rise and fall, feeling my fists clench harder and harder before I down the last of my drink and then whip the thick crystal glass across the fucking room. It smashes against the top right-hand corner of my television screen.

After the racket of that, there’s silence. And the silence feels heavy.

Her phone lights up from the counter beside her drink. And there’s a text from Susanna.

Susanna: Get it gurrrl

But that’s not the focus of my attention right now. My focus is the wallpaper image on Violet’s phone. I clear the text message preview to get a better look. It’s a picture of her and I on the red carpet outside Numbers last weekend.

***

I sit on the edge of her bed. It’s been about an hour and I’ve managed to bring the temperature of my blood down some. Looking at her now in the moonlight helps. So did a half a bottle of booze.

She’s sleeping, curled into a ball, hugging her pillow. I tuck her hair behind her ear, lean over and plant a kiss on her cheekbone, taking in the scent of her hair, her warm skin. And I can still smell a bit of the alcohol on her, but I smell soap and toothpaste, too.

I listen to her breathe, fingering one of her ringlets for a long minute, before I slip back out of her room and go to my own bed. My big, empty bed.

And once I’m undressed and my head lands on the pillow, I start to think about the things I could do to him. The slow way I could fucking kill him.

And then I hear her voice in my head, telling me to let him go. Suggesting I threaten him to leave her alone. But not really hurt him. Because I won’t need to. Because he’s scared of me, he’ll listen. And she’ll pay his debt off over time. Not to help him, to help me.

Me.

This beautiful, broken creature would do that for me.

This beautiful girl gives me the benefit of the doubt as someone who will take her heartfelt request to not hurt him seriously.

I stare into space until the sun rises before I finally close my eyes. And when they do close, I again dream of coming home that day and finding my mother dead on the kitchen floor because Max beat her to death.

35

Violet

My eyes open and I’m greeted with sunshine. It’s a bright day and I don’t have a hangover. Shockingly.

As I get up, a reel of last night begins to play in my brain and as I sit down on the toilet, a rush of cold hits my chest.

Shaking my butt as he watched. Singing a dirty song to him. Almost kissing him in the car. Flirting shamelessly. And then falling apart like a pathetic, drunk loser.

I cover my face; it’s hot with shame. Mortification doesn’t begin to describe how I feel.

I take a long shower and plead with the hot water to wash the indignity away.

***

When I timidly emerge from the bedroom dressed in jeggings, fluffy socks, and a sweater without makeup, my hair still damp, I’m praying my bag and phone are in this apartment somewhere because they’re not in Killian’s guest room.

And there’s activity out here. It’s actually buzzing with activity. I spot Killian’s Genesis manager, Alana, in the kitchen with two little boys and there are two other guys setting up a new television on the wall. One guy has curly brown hair, one blond.

I see no sign of Killian.

“Good morning, Violet, how are you?” Alana greets, while wiping the face of one of the little boys. One of the guys at the TV turns his head and smiles at me. Oh. Will is the curly-haired guy, Killian’s brother - who was there to rescue me from the bathtub incident with Ray.

He waves.

The other guy’s head turns, too, and he takes me in.

“This is Nathan, and this is Ash,” Alana gestures to her kids. One looks about eight or nine, the other around four or five, I think. “This is Miss Violet.”

“Are you Killian’s new girlfriend?” the smaller one, Ash, asks.

The other one waves and then his eyes go back to the Nintendo Switch he’s playing with while he shovels food into his mouth.

“Uh, no. But, um, hi. How old are you?” I see my phone and purse there on the counter.

Relief. Sweet relief.

“I’m five!”

“Oh wow. What have you got there? Pancakes?”

Now, coffee.

I lift my phone and glance at the screen. It’s filled with notifications. I stuff it into the kangaroo pocket of my hooded sweater and move to the cabinet to get a mug out while I look over my shoulder to continue the conversation with Alana’s son.

“Pancakes, yup. Killian maked us some. We loo-sually have cereal. He keeps our favorite Lucky Charms that Mom never buys us because she says it’s junk, but someone ated most of it.”

Oh darn. I gasp and look at Alana with horror and then look back to little Ash.

“That might have been me. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!”

“That’s okay,” the little guy tells me. “He put chocolatey chunks in the pancakes. And bananas. That was even better than Lucky Charms.”

“We’re out of here, actually. I just had to drop some stuff off and oversee the delivery of that monstrosity,” Alana says.

“It’s a big, big TV,” Nathan says. “We’re gonna come over and play video games on it one day, Killian says.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” I say.

“His ‘nother one got broken. Did you break it?” Ash asks.

I jolt with surprise. “It got broken?”

“Smashed up,” the older kid says.

My eyes go big.

Alana is watching me with a careful expression that I take as scrutiny. I give her a confused look and then I reach into the fridge for some creamer and Killian materializes with a handful of cables in his hand as well as a small toolbox. He gives me a once-over and then approaches.

He’s wearing a fitted Minnesota Vikings long-sleeve t-shirt that shows off his big muscles. The sleeves are pushed up, showing me some corded forearm porn. He’s got on grey sweatpants that are the epitome of the best grey sweatpants memes and I have trouble not looking at his… er… package.

Oh Lordy. My belly wobbles.

“How you feeling today?” he asks, looking directly into my eyes, straight into my soul.

“Fine,” I whisper, my throat hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

He flinches but doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “The noise wake you?”

I shake my head. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

He smiles.

“What happened to your TV?” I ask.

“Kill,” the blond guy calls over. “Gimme that Phillips? Hey pretty lady,” the guy says with a big smile. “I’m Dex.”

I wave at the attractive blond guy.

“Yep. Excuse me,” Killian says and heads that way.

“I’ll just get these washed and head out. We’re late for an appointment,” Alana says.

“Nice to meet you, Dex.” I turn to Alana. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Ah, you’re an angel. Thank you.”

“Bye!” Ash says, throwing his little arms around my legs and hugging me before running to the door.

“See ya.” Nathan waves.

I wave as they head out and then I take the dishes to the sink and turn the water on. I lean over and grab my coffee and take a sip.

My phone rings so I grab it. It’s my little brother. He never calls me. My heart sinks. My parents are at their timeshare.

“Cody? What’s wrong?” I greet.

Killian looks over his shoulder at me.

36

Killian

Violet’s eyes go from concerned to panic as she listens.

“Oh no.  No. Which hospital? I’m on my way.”

“What’s wrong?” I erase the space between us, because she looks pale.

I pull her to me, and she braces herself by grasping my forearms.

“My parents are in Florida, my brother’s staying with my grandfather and Grampa collapsed. The ambulance came, rushed him to the hospital.”

“I’ll take you,” I say.

I shoot a look over my shoulder at Will and he nods.

“We got this, Kill. Thinkin’ good thoughts for your gramps, Violet.”

“Th-thanks,” she mutters, looking freaked.

“I’ll change. Two minutes, baby,” I tell her and move quickly to my room; she’s behind me, heading to her own.

***

“This is Killian. Killian, my brother, Cody.”

I shake his hand. He’s got a cold look on his face as he assesses me. He’s thinking, who the fuck are you?

He’s got an expression that makes me imagine he didn’t like Ray and is sick of bullshit for his sister. Being a teenager, the kid probably feels he can’t do much.

It was a short drive to the hospital and the whole way, she was texting with family members while babbling about how she hadn’t seen her grandfather in two months, how she knew she should visit more often. I could see guilt eating her alive there in the passenger seat.

“He’s in good hands, baby. Don’t stress until you know more.”

“I’m gonna visit him more. I definitely will.” Her leg jiggled and she fidgeted all the way there, and for a change, I wasn’t hitting any red lights. None at all.

***

“What happened?” she asks her younger brother, who has  curly hair and the same eyes as Violet. He’s gotta be no more than seventeen or eighteen and looks like he hasn’t grown into his six-foot frame quite yet.

“I was cleaning his gutters and he just collapsed while holding the ladder for me,” Cody says. “Scariest shit. I phoned the ambulance first, then Mom and she and Dad are flying back now. Told me to call you. Aunt Sara and Uncle Hugh are on their way, Uncle Brock, too.”

“I messaged with Aunt Sara and Colleen by text on the way here. They’ll be here soon,” Violet tells him.

A woman in scrubs approaches. “Hi. You’re family to James Gabriel?”

“Yes, I’m Violet Gates, his granddaughter. Cody’s sister.”

Violet sways, and clasps the neck of her sweater. I know she’s bracing for bad news, so I move closer and put my arm around her.

They tell her that her grandfather is stable, but they’re running some more tests. They tell her they’ll keep him in overnight.

***

I’ve grabbed coffee for me and Violet and a Coke for her brother and then not long later, I’m introduced to an aunt and uncle that arrive. And then another uncle. Then two cousins of hers roll in, a brother and sister, the sister around her age, the brother early thirties.

She only introduces me as Killian. No identifier with it. No, he’s my friend even. Just ‘Killian’.

They all look me over. The women, with intrigue. The uncles and male cousin, the same way as Violet’s brother looked at me. I’m guessing they’re not gonna miss Iadanza, that they’re protective.

The bulk of the afternoon is eaten up by sitting and waiting while these people talk amongst themselves. They seem like a nice family. I don’t have experience with functional family units in a crisis such as this, so the whole thing is interesting for me to witness. All of them coming together during a crisis. Talking about family stuff. Catching up with one another since they last saw one another. Violet and her cousin Colleen seem chummy and they call the uncle, Brock, who teases them both affectionately Uncle Broccoli.

There’s stress in the air, they’re obviously worried about Violet’s grandfather. He sounds like a stubborn old man trying to do too much for his age. Violet explains to me that he’s lived on his own for years since his wife died.

Violet whispers to me that I can go, that she’ll catch a ride back, but I shake my head. She does it twice and then the third time, I grab her hand and kiss the back of her knuckles, then hold on.

She sits there, looking at me with huge and panicked eyes while I hold her hand on my knee. I don’t know if those eyes are pleading for me to leave or for me to let go, but I’m not going anywhere.

Her brother gives me a lingering side-eye. I know he’s making sure I know he’s got his eye on me.

I head across the street to a coffee shop to grab more coffees for everyone with sandwiches and pastries while they’re taking turns filing into Violet’s grandfather’s room, two at a time to see him for five minutes apiece.

Apparently, he tells them all to go back and finish doing the outside work at his house for him, insisting that he’ll be fine unless he has to go home and finish it – in which case he won’t be fine because he’ll probably drop dead.

The girls are all upset about this, but Cody mumbles that’s his grandfather’s way, to be irreverent in the face of death.

That he leaned over to explain that to me was cool, him trying to help me not feel like a complete outsider.  And the way he talked, the kid shows maturity for his age.

Not long after that, Cody, the two cousins, and Brock go off to finish the yard work. Brock - forty-something, pudgy, and a big and friendly smile on the guy - invites me to come along, but Violet declines before I can answer, saying she’ll stay and wait for her parents to arrive.

***

“You don’t need to stay,” she says to me for the fourth time. This is the first time it’s just us two in the waiting area. I’m sitting beside her and have my arm around the back of her chair. Her aunt is gone to feed a parking meter, her uncle is in the bathroom.

“My mom and dad’ll be here in less than an hour and you don’t need to really-” She stops talking and stands up, color draining from her face.  “Dad. Mom.”

Her mother’s eyes bounce between her and I for a moment before she wraps her arms around Violet.

It’s a flurry of activity for a minute while details are recounted. Violet’s parents plan to visit with him briefly and discuss picking up Cody.

Violet’s father’s eyes are on me. And he wants to know who the fuck I am and what I want with his daughter. The man is average height and husky with salt and pepper hair and mostly salt in his full beard. He eyes me with an expression that tells me he’s protective, that he’s gonna scrutinize me for being near his daughter, and that he’d happily fuck me up if he felt like it was deserved. And I’m sure he feels that way even further because of the loser his daughter has been with for the past three years.

Violet takes after her mother, an attractive lady that looks to be in her early fifties, maybe, holding her age well. She has the same hair as Violet, though hers barely grazes her collarbone and Violet’s is halfway down her back.

Violet turns to me and I rise.

“Killian Coulter,” I say, reaching out to shake her father’s hand.

“Kevin Gates.” He shakes my hand. “My wife Daphne.”

Violet’s mother stops ranting under her breath to Violet about her father being stubborn and how something like this is what it had to take to slow him down. She hugs me with a big smile spreading across her face. “Great to meet you, Killian.”

Violet looks away, looking embarrassed at her mother’s enthusiasm.

“It’s so great to meet you, Killian,” she repeats, injecting it with a lot of warmth. She looks at Violet and gives her a wide smile. She thinks I’m Ray’s replacement. And Daphne Gates is ecstatic about that.

“There’s the nurse taking care of Grampa. Let’s go see if you can get in to see him,” Violet says and tugs on her father’s hand.

I sit back down.

Violet’s mother hugs the returning uncle, who was introduced to me as Hugh. After hugging her, he moves to sit in a chair directly across from me, eyes on me with a serious expression. I meet him in the eye and jerk my chin, inviting him to say what’s on his mind.

This guy looks like a bruiser who gives no fucks. Fifty-something, bald, wearing construction boots. The guy has homemade tattoos on all his knuckles. The serious gaze transforms to a smirk.

“Nobody liked her last fella. Real dickhead. You might have your work cut out. Or it might be a breeze, maybe. Everyone’ll be relieved to see him gone so you might have it easy.”

“I’m prepared to work for it,” I say automatically and with zero fucks, because it’s pretty clear to me what’s happening with me. And I find that I’m fine with it. More than fine.

“Make sure you don’t stop her from bein’ around her family and that’ll be a good start. Hold down a regular job, let her live her life and have some fun, too. That girl used to be full of smiles. That guy dragged her down. I’d love to kick his teeth in.”

I give him a chin jerk.

“What do you do?” Hugh asks. “Got a job?”

I nod. “Yeah. You hear of Genesis over on—”

“The off-track sports bar?”

“Yeah.”

“I know it. You work there?”

”It’s mine. I have a few other places, too.”

He looks impressed. “At your age? You a trust fund kid?”

“No, Sir. School of Hard Knocks. Extra hard.”

He smiles big. “How’d you meet Violet?” he asks.

“Through the dickhead,” I say under my breath.

He scoffs.

“My thoughts exactly,” I say. “One look at that situation and I decided to relieve him of his duties.”

Hugh straightens up and he’s about to say something when Violet comes back. Without her folks.

“I like him, Violet. Way better than the last one. You got the Uncle Huey seal of approval.” The man leans forward and holds his fist out. I bump it with mine.

Violet trips over her own feet and I manage to catch her, so she tumbles onto my lap.

I smile. “You all right there?”

She stares at me with what looks like shock for a minute while in my lap before she bites her lip and then she carefully stands back up.

“My klutzy little niece,” Hugh says. “Always trippin’ over her tiny feet.”

Violet snickers and nervously pushes her hair away from her face. “It’s part of my charm,” she retorts.

“Sure is,” he agrees.

“Uncle Huey-dewie-louie, you’re ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes. “We can go now, Killian; Grampa needs some rest.”

Violet’s mother is suddenly coming toward us. “Wait, you two.”

We stop.

“Will you two come over for dinner tomorrow? The whole family is getting together for pasta at Grampa’s house. He says he wants his Christmas tree put up. I know it’s not even Halloween, but it’s what he wants. Italian food, trim the Christmas tree, and spend the day with him.”

“You don’t think that’s too much, Mom?” Violet asks. “A house full of people after he’s released from the hospital?”

“He said it’s what he wants. And he wants you there to help decorate the tree. With the young man that brought you here today. His words.”

“How does he know someone brought me here?”

Hugh snickers. “Aunt Sara told him you had a new fella. Got a big ole smile on his crusty old face.”

“Oh, um… we’re… I mean Killian –”

“We’ll be there,” I interrupt Violet, grabbing her hand. “What time?”

“I’ll text Violet and let her know. This all hinges on him being released in the morning, though. Sweetheart, can you whip up a salad? That Italian chicken one? Aunt Sara is going to do dessert. I’ll make my stuffed shells and ask Colly to grab drinks.”

“Avocado on the side, though,” Violet’s father is now behind his wife. “Not everyone likes that slimy green shit.”

“Okay, sure,” Violet says. “It just so happens, the ingredients are all at my disposal, so that’s an easy one.”

Her face is bright pink.

I snicker.

Her mother grabs her and hugs her tight and whispers something in her ear before looking up at me, eyes bright before she hands her daughter off to her husband, who’s now right there. Violet’s dad gives her a squeeze and shoots me a look over the top of Violet’s head.

Violet’s mom hugs me and then I shake her father’s hand as he lets go of her. “It was good to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gates. Wish it weren’t under these circumstances.”

“Kev, call him Kev,” Violet’s mother says.

“Kev,” I repeat. “Nice to meet you, Hugh.” I reach for Violet’s uncle’s hand next. He gives me a back slap with his free hand.

Her Aunt Sara comes back, leans over, kisses my cheek and hugs me as well. “Great to meet you, Killian; gee you smell good. See you both tomorrow?” She beams a smile at Violet with a question on her face.

“We’ll be there,” I say.

Violet grabs my hand and pulls me away from them, “Bye guys, bye. Mom, I’ll phone you later.”

“Okay, honey. Love you.”

“Love you,” Violet calls back and then looks straight ahead with a terror-stricken expression as we move down the hall and around the corner where another long hall leads to an exit.

As we’re stepping out of the second automatic door onto the pavement, she spins and looks at me.

“I am so, so sorry about that. That’s why I didn’t want you to stay, they’d think that we’re together, and – ”

I grab her by her biceps and put her back against the wall of the hospital and as her lips part in surprise, I move in for a kiss.

My lips are hungrily on hers as I cup her face and explore that mouth that I’ve been dreaming about for weeks, that I first wanted three years ago.

She melts for me. She’s got my jacket in her hands as she tries to pull me closer.

I pin her body with mine, and this makes her whimper into my mouth.

My cock reacts. I dip my tongue between her perfect plump lips and tease the tip of hers.

Her back arches, pushing her tits into my chest. I wanna take her home. Now. To my bed. Immediately.

I tear my mouth away and take her face into both hands.

“Nothing to be sorry about, baby. I like your family.”

She blinks.

She blinks again.

Her chest is rising and falling fast.

“It’s fucking cold out here. Let’s go home.” I grab her hand and head toward my car, thinking, bed. Bed now. Will we make it there? If my cock had its way, I’d take her in my car. We’re in the car instead of the SUV so the space is too tight. Plus, a girl like Violet – the first time I fuck her will be in my bed. Plenty of time for fucking in alternate locations after that.

She says nothing, jogging to keep up with my pace. I slow down, avoiding the nearly overwhelming urge I’ve got… an urge to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way.

Because I’m on fire inside.

That kiss.

Better than I expected.

The craving in me right now?  Potent as fuck.

We get to my car and I open the passenger door for her. She gets inside and is buckling her belt when I climb in my side.

I start the car up and look at her.

She looks freaked.

“Wanna talk about what just happened?” I ask her.

She looks spooked.

“No,” she squeaks.

I laugh.

“That shouldn’t have happened, Killian. I-”

“Wait. Table that for a bit. You didn’t eat nothing all day. You wanna hit a drive-thru on the way home?”

She says nothing, just looks at me all freaked out. And I’ve got the urge to kiss her again. I move in, about to do that when she jerks out of a trance.

“I could eat. Um… I, um, I’m gonna call Susanna. I promised to give her an update.”

“All right. Burgers? Burritos? Where should I stop?”

“Burgers sound good.”

“Right.”

She pulls her phone from her bag and drops it on the floor. She picks it up and then drops it again.

I stifle a chuckle, liking how she’s all flustered from that kiss. I manage to hold a straight face, though only barely, while pulling out of the parking lot.

She gets on the phone and fills Susanna in on her grandfather, telling her she will have to cancel ‘Susanna Sunday’ and then it turns into quite the cryptic conversation. I know Susanna is asking all sorts of questions – about me – and Violet’s doing a bad job of being blasé about it while also trying to communicate that I’m in the car with her. She then drags the conversation out until the last possible minute with small talk when I’m next at the drive-thru window.

“Baby,” I say, grabbing her knee. “Need to know what you wanna eat.”

“I gotta go, Suse. Call you tomorrow…will do… you too. Love you, bye.” She ends the call and looks at the screen off to the side. “I’m starving. I want everything.”

I laugh, giving her knee another squeeze and then I order a double cheeseburger and fries. She orders the same with a chocolate milkshake and a side of chicken tenders. I add a milkshake to my order. And then I pay before we pull over and wait.

Once I’m parked, she’s reaching into her wallet and trying to hand me a twenty.

“Put that away right now,” I growl.

She winces and stuffs it into the bag.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I shake my head.

She immediately pulls out her phone and busies herself scrolling through texts. I know she’s trying to do this in an effort to disguise how flipped out she is, and to avoid me jumping her bones, which I’m close to doing.

Instead, I check my own phone and see a text message from Wes, telling me Iadanza spent three hours in that old lady’s apartment this afternoon and went to the local bar tonight. He’s still at the bar, watching a hockey game and drinking shots. I acknowledge the text with a thumb emoji and then check my emails on my phone.

“This thing tomorrow; I’ll just make an excuse about you not being able to make it and-”

“Why? You don’t want me to go?”

She’s still staring at her phone. She opens her mouth and seems to struggle to find words. “My family thinks you’re my new… um… you know, my new man.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I…” She looks like she’s having a brain-to-mouth malfunction.

“I’ll come. Hang out. Help them trim the tree. Rake leaves. Whatever. Eat what sounds like a nice dinner. What’s the harm?”

Her eyes meet mine and they’re full of fear. “They think we’re…”

“I heard.”

She shakes her head. “Killian… that kiss. Um… and last night, I…”

I lean over and cup her jaw. She looks freaked. She is freaked.

But I also know she couldn’t get enough of my mouth outside that hospital.

The way she reacted to that kiss, the way she kissed me back, clenched my clothes, and whimpered into my mouth isn’t the reaction of someone who doesn’t want me.

“Relax, Violet. I’m not gonna bite.  Not unless you want me to.”

Her eyes widen.

I smile wide.

And we’re eye-locked. I move forward, about to become lip-locked with her, but that’s when there’s a knock on the window. The food. She looks relieved.

I turn and open the window and accept the bag and tray of milkshakes. I set the tray between us and she takes the bag from my hand and holds it in her lap. She stares straight ahead, gnawing on her lower lip the rest of the ride home.

I smirk all the way there, knowing that when I get her inside, I’ll be the one with that lip between my teeth again.

She’s terrified, but I’ll take care of that.

37

Violet

I’m terrified of being alone with him in that apartment. I’m afraid of him kissing me again. I’m afraid that if he does, all will be lost. I will be a puddle of Violet-goo, and then I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me.

What would he do to me? If that kiss was any indication of his skills…

No. Don’t think about that, Violet. You’re not ready for that.

I know I’m not ready for this. Not at all.

But that kiss was… it was incredible.

I felt absolutely, completely owned in every sense of the word by him. The way he kissed me. How he held my face. How he nipped my bottom lip playfully and the way he tasted. God, he tasted good.

I couldn’t get enough. I was lost. Completely lost. Making out against the wall of the hospital where my grandfather is! Like a wanton hussy.

And then when he backed up and looked into my eyes with those bright emerald eyes of his? And then he licked his lips like he was savoring the taste of me.

I’m in so much trouble.

It’s too soon for this. Way too soon.

It was beyond sweet that he stayed all day, that he was trying to be there for me, and I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around why he wanted to do it when my family would think he’s my new boyfriend. It’s like he wants them to think that.

And why he kissed me the instant we were outside the hospital like he wouldn’t be able to wait one more minute to do it.

I am still reeling.

Grampa is so stubborn. When Grandma died, he didn’t want to sell the house and move in with anyone. He didn’t want anybody to move in with him. Didn’t want to move into a senior’s building where he didn’t have so much upkeep. He insisted on continuing to cut his own lawn, shovel his own snow, and live in his big two storey three-bedroom house. I’m surprised it was my brother on that roof and not him, and if it were him – God, he could’ve fallen.

Ray didn’t like how Grampa talked to him, how Grampa rolled his eyes or scoffed whenever Ray talked,  so he never wanted to go over there. My grandfather didn’t really like any boyfriends me or my cousin Colly brought around. The same with my other cousin, Sheila, who’s now married and living in Alaska. No one was good enough for his granddaughters.  Not even Sheila’s guy who is a mountain man, all-man, good to her, respectful to all of us, and just … solid. Grampa still gave him side-eye whenever they visited.

Ray got bitchy about me going over without him and never wanted to go with me, so, I really didn’t. I hadn’t seen my grandfather for almost two months before today, and the way his grouchiness melted at seeing me when I went into his room today? I have to be more present for him. For my whole family.

And now it’s getting to that point… that point where he needs help. When I think about the fact that I could’ve lost him today? When I think about that it hits how unpredictable, how short life is.

I can’t stop beating myself up for going so long without seeing my grandfather. This is my wakeup call.

Does that mean I should go for it and see what happens here with Killian because life is so short and unpredictable?

Or am I again letting a hot guy cloud my judgement, which will hurt my family and ultimately me.

Everything inside me is telling me to wait before I leap into anything resembling a relationship. And maybe that’s because Killian is too perfect – I’d hate to screw it up by having him be a rebound.

I hear Debbie’s voice in my head telling me to get back on the horse with someone who is hung like a horse, who knows what he’s doing, who gets 5-star reviews for what he knows how to do.

But I can’t think about this now.

What a day!

I didn’t want Killian there. Didn’t want him to see us all vulnerable. Don’t want them to think I have a new boyfriend.

Is this Killian passing the time because he’s using me to get back at Ray for Ray being a dink and screwing him over for money? The minute that thought occurs, I shove it away, feeling bad about it even because I know he’s been trying to help me, but I also remember what Debbie said at lunch that day about how he told her he’d never get with her because of her being an ex of a friend of his. Not that Ray and Killian were really friends.

It’s still weird that Killian even came to my place with Ray that night if they weren’t really friends.

I’m thinking about the oddness of this when we get out of the elevator, me carrying the bag of food and him carrying the tray of milkshakes.

There’s a woman leaned against Killian’s door.

A woman who might very well be a supermodel.

She brightens when she sees him, but her smile instantly dims as she takes in that he’s not alone. She looks like she’s posed for a magazine shoot, standing there in a long trench coat, one leg cocked, posing with the sole of her stiletto against his door. Both of her palms are flat against the door. On the ground beside her is a satchel - an overnight bag maybe, a bottle of booze, and a sleek black hat-sized box with a bow on top.

“Kenya. What the fuck?” he growls.

He looks angry.

Her lower lip quivers as she shrugs. “I guess this is a bad time.”

“Is it ever a good time if you’re not invited? I repeat, what the fuck? No. Hold that thought a second. Step aside.”

Moving sideways, she takes me in from head to toe.

I’m in a ponytail, jeggings, sneakers, and a ski jacket. I didn’t put any makeup on today. I literally threw a coat on to leave with barely two mouthfuls of coffee into me this morning.

And she’s looking at me like I’m sorely lacking.

This woman looks like a Victoria’s Secret angel just off the runway with her long, sleek black hair, her bright red lips, her perfect winged eyeliner and her mysterious trench coat with the collar standing up. She pulls the belt tighter, and it occurs to me that she might be naked under it. I see no sign of a skirt. Or a blouse. Just skin.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she whispers, sounding like her feelings are hurt.

“No. You and I ended months ago. What’s the point?”

“So, you’re busy tonight?” She looks me up and down.

“Yes, I am, Kenya.” He turns to me. “Baby, I’ll be right in. Hit the alarm, would you?” He opens the door and passes me the tray of milkshakes.

As soon as I’m inside, I hear her ask. “Baby? Is that serious?”

“Yeah. It is,” he says, and I look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are on me. “This won’t take long, Violet.”

He closes the door. He’s just saying that to her for the sake of getting rid of her, right? That it’s serious with me?

What’s my alarm code? Shit. What is it? I stare at the panel. It’s doing a low and slow beeping. I rush the food to the kitchen island and hurry back. The pace of the beeping is picking up. Shit. What’s the code?

My mind is blanking. How is it blanking? I used it every day last week when he wasn’t here. Twice a day. What the fuck is the code?

The beeping gets louder and faster to warn that the alarm is about to blare and the door flies open. Killian looks confused, obviously hearing that sound. His eyes dart from me to the panel.

“Ahh!” I make a panicky sound and wave my hands. Frazzled.

He leans over and presses four digits into it.

“I forgot my code. Sorry.” I wince.

He shakes off a perplexed look. “I’ll be just a minute. Set us up for food?”

I nod.

She’s standing there, eyes on me, arms folded across her chest and a pout on her mouth.

He shuts the door.

I sigh heavily and then go to my room and kick off my shoes as well as take off my coat. I go into my bathroom and yep, I am a walking disaster. I pull the elastic out of my hair and fix my hair into a new knot and then strip out of my clothes. I head to the closet and reach for the most non-sexual clothing I own.

Forgetting my code? I used it twice a day the whole almost-week he was gone!

Well, no wonder, him acting like he and I are a thing – a serious thing.

He erased my common sense with that kiss outside the hospital, that’s got to be the explanation.

I change into a hot pink plush zip-up hoodie that has a unicorn horn and ears on the hood. And trackpants that are three sizes too big. I push my sleeves up and head back out there and set the food up on the table.

He’s coming in, looking annoyed.

“Do you need to go? It’s okay if you do,” I say.

He stops and stares at me.

“Or, if you want me to go so you can have her in here, I can go to Sus-”

“Nice hoodie,” he says.

I gulp.

“She went to a lot of trouble, it looks like, to surprise you, and-”

“I’m starvin’.” He shrugs his coat off and sits at the table across from me, setting two keys down.

Was that her copy of his apartment keys?

Okay, so he sent away the beautiful supermodel who was clearly here for a booty call. And maybe took her key back. But-

My phone rings. “Oh, it’s my mom.”

Saved by the bell. Or… uh oh!

“Mom?” I greet, belly dipping with panic. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything is okay, Violet. Grampa’s doing okay. How are you?”

I exhale with relief. “I’m… I’m okay. How about you? What’s up?”

“You forgot your charging cord in the waiting room at the hospital. It was still plugged in beside your chair. Uncle Hugh says it’s yours. We were going to pop by and drop it off to you.”

“Oh. I’m not home.”

“Oh?” she inquires. And she sounds delighted.

“I’m… I’m at Killian’s.” I move to stand in front of the terrace doors and stare out at the view.

“Oh. Well, we’re nearly to your building, so we’ll just maybe try to stick it under the door.”

Oh God no. No, no.

She muses, “I wonder if it’ll fit. It’s one of those flat ones so it might. Actually, the charging block probably won’t fit, so, um…”

“No, Mom, don’t go there. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Okay. We just pulled into the parking lot. Do you want me to leave it with a neighbor?”

I hear my father’s voice in the background. “Leave it alone, Daph. She’s probably stayin’ at her new boyfriend’s place tonight.”

My heart sinks. “Ray might be there. Besides, I’ll see you in the morning, anyway. I’m not gonna be back there tonight.”

Why did I just say that? Why did I say Ray’s name?

The phone goes dead silent for a minute. “You’re not broken up yet?”

“We are. Actually. In my mind at least. But… he’s staying at my place for another week so um…” I search for words. I have none. “It’s complicated. Just keep my phone cord. It’s okay. I’ll… I think Killian has one of those charging stations and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you staying in that apartment with Ray while he’s still there? Does he know about Killian?”

“Um, it’s…”

“Complicated?” Mom asks with a knowing voice.

“Can I call you tomorrow? Or just see you tomorrow? I haven’t eaten all day and we’re just about to eat, so…”

“Sure honey. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Call me if anything happens with Grampa. Okay?”

“No problem. We should be able to pick him up fairly early tomorrow, if all goes well.”

“Good. What a day.”

“No kidding.”

“Sorry your trip got cut short, Mom.”

“Me, too. But what can you do?”

“Yeah.”

“Family first. Anyway, go eat, Love you, honey.”

“Love you.”

“Hey Violet?” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I approve.  From what I can tell so far,” she says in a whisper.

I can hear my father grumbling in the background.

“Um,” I start.

“Bye, sweetie!” She hangs up.

I bite my cheek. Shit. turn back around. Killian’s sitting there, waiting for me. He’s sipping his milkshake, but his eyes are on me.

As I sit, he unwraps his burger, so I do the same, putting the chicken tenders in the middle so we can share. His phone rings.

He shakes his head. “I have to take this. Please, eat. Don’t let it go cold. I’ll be back.”

38

Killian

Could this evening have any more interruptions?

I had my locks changed because I’d given Kenya a set of keys to get in because she’d meet me sometimes in the evenings when I worked late and it made sense logistically, not that it meant she had keys in the same sense as other men might give them out. Yes, she had keys, but I hadn’t invited her to leave a toothbrush. In fact, she tried to leave a toothbrush and a box of tampons and I threw them in the trash. More than once, prompting a fight that finally ended things.

Yes, there were those types of things in my bathroom now, but that was because I knew Violet would be staying with me.

For some reason, I justified it as different in my brain when I asked Patricia to stock my bathroom with anything a surprise female guest might need.

I’d changed my locks, yes, but of course I couldn’t change the lock to the building, which Kenya still had a key for, and that’s how she got in.

She handed the keys to me tonight at my request, a big pout on her face.

She tried to turn on the charm while Violet was inside, tried to tell me she had a lot of time to think about us, about what she wanted and didn’t want, and told me that she showed up with chocolate covered strawberries, wearing nothing but sexy lingerie under that coat because she wanted to make a grand gesture. With a bottle of top shelf booze.

“Is it too late for that?” she asked. “Do you want to get rid of her and spend the evening with me instead?”

“It is definitely too late for that,” I told her.

She pouted some more. And then she asked me to call her if things didn’t work out with Violet and me.

Kenya was a spoiled princess, far too much of a debutante and frankly too vanilla for me. Based on the conversation Wes recorded of Violet with Debbie with Violet’s coworker in that food court, and the timing of when Debbie came onto me, I knew it was Kenya that Debbie had heard talking about me in that nail salon.

Kenya’s long-term goals included joining a country club, lunch with the ladies, she didn’t want a career, and she was what I thought of as a professional husband-hunter. She wanted a guy with stacks of cash who would indulge in her every want. She wanted it in a way she’d barely have to reciprocate unless it was missionary sex on a Saturday night other than during the week she’d ovulate so that she could go about squeezing out a couple kids in order to secure alimony and child support when things went sour.

I had her pegged as the type to get pregnant immediately after a six-figure wedding day, and do it back-to-back, then she’d go to the gym as soon as she was allowed after that second birth, so she’d get her figure back and hire around-the-clock nannies until those kids were old enough to go to boarding school.

She wanted something serious with me. But she didn’t want me working nights. She always bitched about the fact that we’d see each other after eleven o’clock most nights. She wanted a husband who’d be home for dinner every night, which would be on the table at six o’clock sharp. She didn’t want to fuck against the wall in a filthy trash-laden alley outside a nightclub because she looked good and I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She didn’t want her makeup messed up on the way out the door by my kissing her with too much passion. Didn’t wanna give blowjobs, do anal, or make sex remotely interesting.

Until she did, I guess. And it’s too late.

She wasn’t that interesting. She wasn’t very good in bed. She didn’t make me laugh. She cared nothing about my life other than how it impacted her future. We barely had a thing in common beyond that I liked how she looked and she liked how much money I have.

She didn’t make me feel what I felt already with Violet. I’d take Violet with her face scrubbed clean of makeup in her baggy clothes and silly unicorn hoodie over Kenya in lingerie and red lipstick any day.

“Zack. What’s up?”

“Iadanza got into a bar fight. He’s in the drunk tank for the night.”

“Interesting. Anything else?”

“Nothin’. Stupid argument over a sports thing on the television. I may or may not have instigated it, so he’d have a babysitter for the night.”

I bark out a laugh.

“Since he’s under wraps for the night, I’m goin’ home to bed. I’ll have one of my guys follow him back from the drunk tank in the morning.”

“Works for me. Thanks, man.”

I head back out to the dining table and she’s staring out the window, her burger in her hand, dangling. A glob of orange sauce drips out, onto her wrist and she jolts.

She wipes up the mess and immediately starts eating, looking like she wants no part of conversation.

I sit down and take a bite of my burger. It’s not gone completely cold, but close.

“I’m gonna give this a zap. You?”

She shakes her head and swallows. “Mine’s okay.”

I can see she’s completely worked into a state of stress, so I decide to let her off the hook. “What about a movie? Wanna watch something while we eat?”

“Sure,” she says quickly.

I grab the remote and hand it to her. “Go ahead. Find something.”

“What do you wanna watch?” She pops a fry into her mouth and then takes a sip of her shake.

“Whatever.”

“Chick flick?” she tries, looking sheepish.

And I like that she’s got a sense of humor despite that she’s stressed, despite that she’s nervous to be alone with me.

“You want me to fall asleep, don’t you?”

Her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“I don’t mind,” I say. “Whatever you wanna watch.”

By the time I’m back to the table with my warmed-up food, she’s put on Dumb and Dumber.

I’ve never seen it, but it’s aptly named.

We eat and then I suggest we move to the couch.

She tells me to go ahead, and she’ll be right over. She disappears into her room while I pause the movie and get rid of the trash from the food.

I sit on one of my two couches and wait.

She comes back and sits on the other couch.

Knew it.  Make me want to throw one of my couches off the balcony, but I let her have this play.

She frequently laughs watching the movie and I find myself smiling non-stop because her laughter is infectious.

“You see this before?” she asks me at one point.

“Naw. You?”

“About ten times,” she tells me, dimples on display, and this makes me smile bigger that she’s laughing this hard at something she’s seen so many times.

When it ends, she immediately jumps up. “Well, I’m pooped. Goodnight. Thanks again for today.”

Before I get a chance to reply, she’s hustling down the hall.

I stare out the window while the credits roll, deep in thought until I decide to crash, myself.

***

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m woken up with the smell of food.

I didn’t sleep too badly last night. Because Iadanza is in the drunk tank? Maybe.  I’m glad I didn’t wake up in bed with her because that could’ve induced more stress for her after yesterday’s kiss and I don’t want that.

I do, absolutely, want to sleep beside that girl, to fuck her until she falls asleep from exhaustion and then to wake her up with my cock, tongue, and fingers again the next morning, but I know she isn’t ready.

I thought on it last night and I’m torn between pursuing her full-steam ahead and giving her time.

I hop in the shower and I can’t help it. I squeeze and pull on my cock while imagining that kiss again. I fucking feel it, feel her soft lips; I hear her little whimpers as she grabs my shirt. And then the fantasy comes to life in my mind with my hands in her hair, my fingers unhooking her bra and then holding beautiful tits in my hands while my mouth works down to her chin, across her throat as I lick, kiss, and nip my way down to a perfect nipple and grind my cock against her.

She grabs it and squeezes it for me, then she slides down my body until she’s on her knees. I feed her my rock-hard shaft and she greedily takes it, digging her nails into my ass cheeks as she does, making eye-contact the whole time with my other hand in her soft curls.

I come all over my shower wall with a gruff groan.

39

Violet

I’m in the kitchen, putting together the salad when Killian strides out toward me in jeans and a cream-colored waffle-knit skin-tight sweater hoodie that makes me do a double-take. You can see every defining line of his upper body in that sweater.

His hair is wet, and his eyes are like green fire. He’s looking at me like he’s on a mission and I feel the strange urge to make a run for it.

I don’t. I stand there with a dumb look on my face, the spoon in mid-air.

“That smells fucking delicious,” he says, getting right next to me and taking a look down at the salad.

I shake myself free of my daze as he stares into the big bowl of salad. He’s so close, I feel the heat from his body and my nose is filled with the scent of his bodywash which smells like sex,  chocolate, and citrus.

“Thanks,” I squeak out.

And then I reach into the cupboard and grab a cup and put it under the coffee maker.

He goes to reach for the same cupboard, so I say, “Oh. That one is for you. You usually get here first so I thought today I could make you coffee.”

“Thank you,” he says huskily right by my ear.

“Good morning,” I reply stupidly.

He’s staring at my mouth. “Yeah. Mornin’.”

The coffee maker eventually stops gurgling, so I tear my gaze away and reach for his cup, catching a smirk on his face from the corner of my eye.

I doctor up his coffee and pass it to him, but his fingers brush mine as he takes the cup and it has my body seized like a statue. His cell phone vibrates, so he moves away, sits down at the table, lifting his phone from his jeans pocket.

“Do you want breakfast?” I ask, turning back to the salad. “I do a mean frittata.”

“A mean frittata sounds egg-cellent,” he says.

“You’re punny,” I reply, looking over my shoulder with what I suspect is a goofy grin. “And good. Because it’s already in the oven.”

His eyes travel from mine down to my toes and then lazily back up.

It makes me feel like I’m being spied on while naked, so I spin away from him, cover up the salad, and put it in the fridge.

“I hope it’s okay I’m borrowing your bowl to go to my grandfather’s. I worried you might not have anything big enough since you live alone but your kitchen is very well-equipped, I must say.”

“Not a problem. My kitchen is your kitchen.”

The way he says this makes my heart do a flip-flop.

I head into the butler’s galley prep kitchen where the toaster sits and pop some bread in, noticing he’s looking at me. I manage the feat of getting the toaster going without tripping over my own feet before I get to the coffee maker in the main kitchen and pour my second cup.

He’s busy on his phone now so I take the moment to gawk at him with the cup to my mouth. At the size of his shoulders. At his thick, dark hair. At how attractive his hands are as he taps away on the screen typing out a text or an email, maybe. He has an expensive-looking watch on, and he could be a GQ model with those attractive hands, wrists, everything…

He’s ready for the day, with shoes on and everything, and yet I’m standing here with no shoes on. No socks, either, making myself at home in this beautiful kitchen.

“You know what your deck needs?” I say, stirring creamer into my cup of coffee.

He looks at me.

“A barbeque,” I inform, matter-of-factly.

He stares at me for a second too long. It’s something he often does. And now I’m uncomfortable, so I spin around and check the oven. The frittata looks nearly ready, so I continue to watch until the cheese is bubbling good and then grab oven mitts and pull it out.

The toast pops, so after I’ve set the skillet on the stove, I go in there to butter up, thinking that my original thought of this room being unnecessary is coming in handy right now, allowing me to get out from under the intensity of those eyes.

A few minutes later, I’m serving him my cheese and vegetable frittata and toast.

A minute after that, he’s groaning with delight as he shovels it in.

“This is good,” he says after swallowing. “Really fucking good.”

I smile with pride.

“I was chopping all sorts of vegetables for the salad so figured it was a good dish to make since I was sort of already prepping for it.”

“Lookin’ forward to that salad later, too,” he says before shoveling in the last forkful of food.

My phone rings as I take another bite of toast.

I zip over to the kitchen counter to grab it.

“My mom,” I say.

He’s behind me. Oh.  He has his plate in his hand.

“Noticed you changed your wallpaper back. That’s a shame.” He reaches for the serving spoon and saws through the rest of the frittata out of the dish on the stovetop and spoons half of what’s there onto his plate.

My eyes bug out.

Shit. He saw that? I’m mortified.

I covertly changed it at the hospital yesterday, thinking I was silly for doing it in the first place while drunk on Friday night.

Embarrassment stains my cheeks with heat as I answer the phone to my mother, grateful that’ll give me an opportunity to pretend I didn’t hear him.

Fat chance. He’s looking at my pink cheeks with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

40

Killian

Violet’s expression goes from embarrassed to falling after she answers her phone.

“Oh no. You’re kidding. He’s okay though?”

I head back to my chair and sit, shoveling more food into my mouth. Best frittata I’ve ever eaten. Is that because it’s the best or because of the fact that Violet was in my kitchen making it, flashing those dimples at me, envisioning me grilling on an imaginary barbecue?

Fuck me.

This girl.

She disappears down the hall to her bedroom.

I check my own phone and there are no further updates from Zack Jacobs since his last message that stated Iadanza was released from the drunk tank and went straight back to the apartment to bed.

I look in on Violet in the bedroom via my phone app and she’s pacing with her phone to her ear, talking to her mother about her grandfather.

I exit the app and clear it off my phone, then tap my toe impatiently waiting for an update from her.

Clearly there’s a problem.

A few minutes later, she’s back and she’s no longer on the phone.

“Grampa’s heart is beating too fast. And they’re having trouble with his blood sugar. They’re keeping him in for another day at least. Dinner’s canceled.”

“You want me to take you to the hospital so you can see him?”

She shakes her head. “Mom told me not to come. She’s there with Aunt Sara and they’re just waiting for more news. Grampa is sleeping anyway. She’ll keep me posted with updates.”

I get up and go to her, putting my arms around her.

She jolts briefly but then wraps her arms around me, too. I put my chin on top of her head.

“Sorry, baby. Better he’s there when that happened than back at home, right?”

She nods and then shivers, snuggling into my chest.

I absorb how right this feels, her snuggled into me, for a good minute before walking her over to the couch and sitting down with her, keeping my arm around her and putting my lips to her temple.

“What can I do?” I ask against her skin.

She shakes her head. “Nothing I can think of, but thank you.”

I squeeze her with affection, and she immediately rises, face pink. “I’m gonna just clean up and…”

“Why don’t you let me do that?”

She nods and bites her lip. “I’m gonna go call Suse, then.”

I give her a tight smile and reach out and squeeze her hand. Her eyes widen at that before she disappears back down the hall.

And I grind my teeth, because all I want right now, is to do what feels natural with her, what feels a hundred per cent right with her, but she’s fighting it.

The way she sank into my arms a minute ago, I know she feels how right it is, too.

41

Violet

I’m unable to reach Susanna; I get her voicemail. I send her a text, but ten minutes later she hasn’t answered or even read my text, so drats.

I’m biting my lip, staring out the window, wishing she’d answer so I can try to revive our plans for today and get out of this apartment, away from Killian and his gorgeousness. His strong, comforting embrace. His scent. Those sexy eyes. That voice. Everything that is him.

I don’t wanna be with Mom and Aunt Sara, getting the third degree about Killian, about Ray. I don’t want to be in the same room as Killian unless I have to be, because he keeps looking at me like he wants to fuck me.

And maybe I want him to, so it’s definitely safer to hide out in here all day.

His signature four beat knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I call out, bracing for what might be next.

“I ran you a bubble bath. Thought it might help relax you.” he says, leaning against my doorframe.

He smiles. And it’s disarming.

“That’s incredibly sweet of you,” I say.

And it is. Wow.

“Go enjoy it. I’m gonna head down to the gym.”

“Can I use that gym, too?” I ask. “Later, I mean. Later today?”

I could definitely use time on a treadmill to blank my brain.

And having a place to work out could be very convenient as an escape.

“Use it whenever you want. I’ve found a spare key fob for the door in my desk. I’ll leave it here for you.”

“Thank you. I haven’t worked out since I’ve been here. I could use a good run.”

“Go for it. You wanna skip the bubble bath and come work out with me right now instead?”

“Absolutely not. A hot bath sounds perfect.”

He smiles at me.

“Thank you, Killian,” I say with sincerity.

“My pleasure, Violet,” he replies softly.

I follow him down the hall to his room, feelings flitting around in my chest like a confused moth that has been bit by a flame it got too close to but doesn’t know how to fight the urge to fly right back toward the fire.

Urges. I’m definitely overcome with urges, despite my fear for everything going on and I’m feeling guilty about it, too.

Everything in Killian’s room is tidy. He even makes his own bed on Sundays. That says something about him to me, for some reason. I watch him walk around the column that leads to the nook where his desk is. He returns with a key fob. “I’ll pop this onto the desk in the guest room on my way down.”

“Thank you.”

I slip into the master bathroom.

The lights are off, the blinds down, making it all dark and atmospheric because there are three candles lit on the corner of the tub and bubbles are high up, floating three or four inches above the top of the big soaker tub.

I twist the lock and then peel myself out of my clothes and sink into the hot bubbles with a moan.

42

Killian

The gym in my building has too many fucking people in it. This is why I never use it on Sunday mornings. I should turn my third bedroom into a home gym.

After fifteen minutes of lifting, I abandon the workout because it’s jam-packed and these people aren’t acting like they’re here to work out, more like it’s social hour and they try to pull me into conversations, despite that I’ve only taken one earbud out to reply and quickly put it back in, which most people would take as a hint. These people don’t take that hint.

It doesn’t take long before I’ve had enough and head back upstairs deciding I’ll do some push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups in my room.

When I step in, I see that the bathroom door is still closed. Shit. She’s probably still in the tub.

I’m about to leave when the door opens and she’s coming out in a towel, the clothes she had on before in a bundle under her arm.

She freezes, eyes wide.

Poor girl is terrified, probably thinking this was my plan – get her naked and corner her. Though, sounds like a fuckin’ plan to me.

“Sorry, honest, I did not mean to be here. Gym’s jam-packed.”

I back out of the room and head toward the terrace doors where I immediately drop and give myself twenty for my impure thoughts.  And then I have more of those delicious thoughts, so I give myself twenty more.

***

She doesn’t surface until evening.

My stomach is audibly protesting that I’ve been at my desk most of the day getting ahead with shit, so I head to the kitchen and she’s there, her right sole against her left calf, her sweatshirt falling off her shoulder, revealing creamy, beautiful skin.

“Want some?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at me while spooning salad into a bowl.

Yeah. Want is a good word.

My first thought is that I don’t know how to translate the look on her face. Sometimes my first instinct is that she’s being sultry intentionally. But her looks of terror that generally accompany my reaction suggest otherwise. My second thought, it’s more of an urge. It’s the urge to sink my teeth into the skin between her throat and shoulder, pinning her against the counter, grinding against her ass, and then kissing the teeth marks I leave behind all better before I feed her dinner with my fingers and then curl up and give her a foot rub.

“Yeah. I want some.”

Salad sounds like a shitty alternative, but I am hungry, so it’ll do for now.

She bites her lip and studiously avoids my gaze as she serves out two big bowls of the stuff, before pulling open a drawer for two forks.

And I suspect she’s doing the same as me, picking up on every potential double entendre.

“I was just, um, watching something, so I’m gonna just go eat in my room.”

I stare at her and I don’t hide my annoyance.

“Later,” she says, avoiding my gaze as she grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and sets one beside the bowl she’s left for me.

She slides by me without looking up, intentionally avoiding my face. I grind my teeth before I grab my bowl, fork, and water and sit alone at the table to eat. It’s good. Great, actually. All sorts of flavor, lots of grilled chicken in it. I eat two large bowls of it. But I’m pretty fucking annoyed right now at eating alone.

She’s hiding from me and I hate it. I just need to decide what I’ll do about it.

***

Monday:

When I wake up, I snicker at the fact that Iadanza is in the dark. The power has been cut to Violet’s apartment, courtesy of a friend of a friend. There’s also a block so he can’t get on the internet if he’s found a phone or computer to do it with.

I find her in the kitchen chatting with Patricia. Violet’s wiping the counter and Patricia has a cup of coffee in her hand. I give Patricia a pointed look. She snickers and then winks at me.

Violet looks over her shoulder at me and stops, mid-sentence.

Patricia is Alana’s cousin, another woman that thinks of me as a sibling she has to protect. She’s going to call me later, I’m sure, and tell me what she thinks of Violet. The fact that Violet was wiping a kitchen counter – my guess is she’ll get high praise from Patricia who has made opinions known about how Jessa, Kenya, and other women have treated my place – and her.

Violet tells me in the car on the way to drive her to work, without looking me in the eye, that she’s meeting with Susanna after work for dinner and shopping, since they didn’t get a chance to spend Sunday together. She adds that Susanna is bringing her back afterwards.

“How’s your grandfather?” I ask.

“As of last night, resting comfortably. I’m expecting a call from my mother this morning with an update.”

“See you tonight,” I say and give her a look of promise. She goes wide-eyed and scrambles out of the car, making a quick escape.

***

She gets back that night at 11:05, and I’m sitting on my couch, watching the news on television with my laptop open, a drink in my hand.

She says hello with a nervous wave and quickly disappears to her bedroom before I can say more than hey.

***

Tuesday

I wake up to a note from her. She forgot she had to be at work early for a meeting, so she drove herself. She’ll see me later.

I’m pissed.

I take it out on everyone around me at two of my bars that afternoon.

I have shit to do and a meeting with my lawyer, so I don’t get back until nine o’clock. She’s in her room when I get in. I knock on her door, certain I hear her television on low.

The room goes silent.

I’m almost ready to go in there, but keep myself in check after pacing the hall for a good five minutes, talking myself down.

I stalk to my own room instead after leaving a note on the counter by the coffee maker.

“If you try to drive yourself to work today, you’re getting that spanking we previously discussed.”

I go to bed and set my alarm extra early to catch her reaction.

***

I’m in bed, watching her read the note on the security app bright and early the next morning. She grabs her throat and drops the note before squatting, snatching it, and hurrying back to her room, scratching nervously at her throat.

No, I’m not happy about this.

She’s waiting for me when I come out of the bedroom. She’s got her coat on and she’s sitting at the table with her hands wrapped around her travel mug. She’s poured me a cup of coffee to-go, too, but looks concerned when she sees me. I’m only wearing lounge pants.

“I had a late night. Mind driving yourself this morning?” I ask, reaching for the coffee cup.

I couldn’t sleep last night and waking up early to watch her read my note has me feeling sour.

She’s staring at my chest, my abs, my Adonis belt.

I flex for effect.

Her lips part and she looks away.

As soon as she looks at me again, I do another flex while taking another mouthful of coffee.

“Buh… buh-bye. Have a good day.” She rushes toward the door, tripping and righting herself just a second before she’d do a face-plan into the column.

“Violet,” I growl.

She spins to look back at me, but her hand is on the doorknob.

“Tonight, six o’clock, you’re having dinner with me. Don’t make other plans.”

She stares blankly and then winces. “Actually, that might not be-”

“I insist,” I cut her off.

“But…”

“It’s best to cooperate when I insist, Dimples,” I say.

She blinks and then swallows. “Okay,” she squeaks and turns the lock, then reaches for the knob.

“Disarm the alarm first,” I tell her, but it’s a split second too late so the siren blares.

I jog over and quickly clear it.

“Sorry.” She looks at me with regret.

Yeah, I’m awake now. So are my neighbors.

Fear flickers in her eyes as she stares at me.

“Tonight,” I remind her.

She leaves.

I sit down on my couch and kiss my teeth. Pissed.

I look at my phone screen. Missed call from Wes Traynor.

I call him.

“Wes.”

“I’m thinking we should consider bugging the old lady’s place,” he says. “I don’t usually suggest things like this because I don’t like fuckin’ with innocent folks, but in this case… he was there again for an hour and a half last night. He’s there now.”

“Now?”

Before eight o’clock in the morning?

“Do it,” I say.

“Gotcha. They always sit at that kitchen table, so I could put one pointing right there and only view it when he’s in there.”

My private eye has ethics. In my experience, that’s a liability in his role – at least when it comes to working for me.

43

Violet

Wednesday is a long, long day for me. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that tomorrow is Ray’s deadline and I’m sick to my stomach about the possibilities.

I’m tempted to swing by the building and check my mail, but I know it’s a terrible idea. I just have to wait another day or two and then all this will be over.

But will it? And to what end?

Killian is angry with me. It’s bad that the family dinner on Sunday was canceled because of my grandfather’s health, but the good thing is that Killian didn’t have an opportunity to spend the day with me and my family, because I have no idea where it would’ve gone. More kissing? More than kissing?

I’m petrified of the chemistry between us. It’s white-hot and isn’t that the hottest type of flame? I’m not sure, but I’m so afraid of the burn.

I’m afraid of jumping too soon. Getting my heart broken. Being unfair to someone else by getting into something I’m not ready for.

The past three weeks have been incredibly eye-opening for me. Distance from Ray has bolstered my strength. A lot. But I have a long way to go.

Talking to my mom twice daily on the phone to get updates on Grampa has helped, too. This has brought me back into the family fold where I worried it would be difficult to regain that closeness with them after being so distant for so long.

I text or group-chat with Mom, my aunt, and my two cousins. And it’s gone off the Grampa topic and is just a nice, ongoing conversation with them. This has helped me feel more like me.

Going to lunch with friends from work, having that girls’ night out, spending time with and having Susanna in my life again. All of it has been amazing.

Not worrying about money so much. Not feeling that horrible sinking feeling, heading home every night to Ray and his garbage.

And it’s all down to Killian sending Ray off to Atlantic City because that was the start. That was the beginning. That week alone helped me begin to find my way back toward who I was before. Someone with friends. With a relationship with her family. Someone that smiled, laughed, looked forward instead of trying to simply blend in.

Someone who decided enough was enough and that it was time to take my life back.

Bottom line: the fact that Ray fucked up royally and that Killian stepped in led to this past two weeks of me getting in touch with myself again.

But while all that has been happening, I’ve also been freaking out because of the insane amount of chemistry between Killian and me.

I can’t stop thinking about him. I dream about him. I can barely look at him without feeling my face heat up, without getting butterflies, without wanting to just… I don’t know… throw myself at him and hope he catches me.

I’ve heard it said that after every long-term relationship ends, you should give yourself at least a full season to heal from it. Maybe even as long as the relationship lasted. I don’t want to spend the next three years alone, necessarily, but I do think it’s probably healthy to have time between relationships. And then there’s that whole thing about having a couple rebounds in between serious relationships. Jumping from three years with Ray, the last year of which was hell for me, to a new relationship that would be with someone so very different? It just doesn’t seem wise.

Not to mention the fact that Ray has repeatedly ignored my trying to split up means I feel like I’m not exactly single – instead in limbo.

And then again, how would I feel if I moved on from this without giving things with Killian the chance of becoming something? Would I regret it?

Is it just chemistry? Does he just want sex from me, will it fizzle out quickly after that, or could it become more? Could it become everything?

I shake these thoughts off as they threaten to take a firmer hold and get me deep into a fantasy about a life with Killian Coulter. What that might look like. What that might feel like.

I stare at the clock again. It’s finally four o’clock. One more hour until I can go.

Go and dread tomorrow. Because either way, I can’t imagine it’ll be easy.

***

It’s five twenty when I get into Killian’s apartment and disarm the alarm.

He’s standing against the kitchen island, facing me with his arms across his chest.

“Hi,” I greet timidly.

He’s pissed at me, still.

“We’re going out.”

I double blink. “Um…now?”

“What you’re wearing works for our plans. You look good.”

“I…” I look down at myself. I’m wearing a long black pencil skirt, brown boots, and a brown sweater.  My hair is ironed straight today.

“Cuttin’ it close as it is, so we gotta go now.”

“Where?”

“Dinner. And the theater.”

“Um…”

“Ready?” He looks angry.

“I don’t know; maybe I should redo my makeup, and-”

“You’re beautiful. Let’s go.”

He shrugs his leather jacket on and sets the alarm as he puts his hand to the small of my back and leads me out.

And off we go, me hearing him tell me I’m beautiful vibrating in my brain.

As we head into the elevator he says, “The show starts at seven. We’ll hit Genesis and eat there. I’ve already put in orders for us. I’ll just text Alana right…” he fiddles on his phone, “now.  And she’ll take care of putting the order in.”

I stare, unblinking at the light panel signaling our descent into the parking garage.

When he opens and closes the passenger door for me, his pissed-off attitude doesn’t lessen.

***

“Hello, Violet, how are you?” Alana greets brightly as we step in and approach the hostess station.

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m great. I was sorry to hear your grandfather was ill. Is he doing better?”

She walks us to the table we sat at last time. The rest of the place is buzzing, full.

“He is. He’s at home and it turns out he’s become diabetic, so he’s quite unhappy at the moment because a lot of doctor intervention and lifestyle changes are underway. He’s pretty grumpy about it, but we’re grateful he seems to be okay, mostly.”

“That’s a relief,” she says, and we are seated. “I hope he continues to improve.”

“I replaced that box of Lucky Charms,” I tell her, “For the next time you and your boys are over at Killian’s place. The boys are adorable, Alana.”

She laughs. “I’m sure they’ll be pleased, but I can’t say I am. I try to avoid the sugary cereals. It turns them into little monsters. I swear sugar makes Ash mean.”

“Oh no. Maybe I’ll just eat it myself then and say nothing to them.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she says with a chuckle.

“I’m happy to help,” I raise my hands. “Sugary pastel marshmallows don’t make me mean. They make me downright blissed out.”

Killian clears his throat.

She straightens up and her chuckle halts.

“Have a good evening, you two.” She zooms away.

I watch her go and studiously avoid his eyes.

“Diabetes?” he asks after a moment.

I finally meet his gaze. “Yeah. He’s always been strong and independent, but without Grandma there to remind him about doctors’ appointments and eating properly… ” I shrug. “My mom says he’s not too happy about having to alter his diet. She’s trying to get him to move in with her and Dad but he’s having no part of it. She and Aunt Sara are taking turns with Grampa management. Going over there and making sure he’s okay. Taking him to his appointments, doing his shopping. Policing his sweets and calories.”

“Good. They reschedule that family dinner thing?”

I moisten my lips and stare.

“Am I still invited?” he adds, his gaze serious, almost cutting.

“Killian,” I say softly.

“Violet,” he returns and gives me a scorching-hot look that makes me rear back.

“So, tomorrow…” I try to deflect.

And as soon as I say it, I regret it. Because shit is about to get real there.

“Tomorrow,” he says quickly. “Let’s worry about tomorrow – tomorrow. Yeah?”

I’m not sure I can let go of the worries, but I can tell he’s not interested in having this conversation right now. Probably especially due to the fact we’re in his bar.

What’s one more day of ignorance? Tomorrow I won’t be able to be ignorant, so maybe this feeling today is bliss in contrast to what I’ll feel tomorrow.

“I’m surprised we got a table. It’s packed.”

“This is my table. No one sits here ever. I have reserved tables at all my locations. When is the family dinner, Violet?”

I shake my head and before I have to answer, a server comes over with a tray holding drinks and Caesar salads.

“Good evening, Killian. Hello, I’m Kay and I’ll be your server, Miss. Killian ordered you both salads, steaks, loaded baked potatoes, and said you’ll be skipping dessert. I know you two have theater tickets, so everything has a rush on it and we’re watching the clock. We have Killian’s preference already but how do you want your steak cooked? They’re about to fire it now.”

“Oh. Medium. Thank you. Do you serve sweet potato fries? If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like that instead of baked potato.”

“Absolutely. Pink Moscato for you, right?”

“Perfect.”

“Johnnie Walker Blue Label for you, Killian?”

He nods.

“Anything else right now?”

“We’re good, Kay,” he says.

“Thank you, Kay,” I echo.

She smiles and moves away.

“So, the theater after this?” I ask.

“Yes.” He stares at his phone.

“What are we seeing?”

“A play called Bluff. It’s about poker of all things.” He pockets his phone.

I shudder with a sour expression.

“Sound interesting to you?” he queries. And his lips quirk. He’s fighting a smirk.

“Never heard of it,” I say, not that I’ve been keeping tabs on what’s happening in the theater district. “But why? Why are we going out like this?”

What’s he up to here? I’m confused.

“I figured a night out would take your mind off the fact that tomorrow is Thursday.”

I lean back and look at him.

And it dawns. I told him I liked crappy movies, crappy musicals and plays. Is that what this is? Did he find us a shitty play to see?

“Then why aren’t we going to see Cats?”

“Or Wicked?” he throws in.

“Or Les Miz?” I add. “Because a musical play about poker ain’t likely to take my mind off tomorrow.”

His expression gives nothing away, so I take a sip of my wine.

“It’s, uh, a poker game acted out via interpretive dance.” His effort at being impassive fails and mischief sparkles in his green eyes as he lays his burgundy linen napkin across his lap.

My jaw drops.

“Let’s just have a fun evening, how about that?” he suggests.

“I don’t think anything can take my mind off the fact that tomorrow is Thursday. But… ” I say and fight a smirk of my own. “Have you read the reviews? Is this a badly reviewed play?”

He smiles. “Your eyes are dancing. If it is, does this make you happy?”

I chortle. “I told you about that when I was drunk.”

“Maybe.”

I dig into my salad. And it’s delicious.

“I skipped lunch today and didn’t realize how hungry I was. This is good.”

“We’ve got a great chef.” He forks up some salad.

I take a few bites and suddenly, I’m feeling panicky. This feels like a date. Dinner. A bad play because I told him I love going to them?  My heart flares, but then I reprimand it.

No. No, no.

“This place is great,” I say. “You’d never know people are here probably betting money they can’t afford and having their lives ruined.”

His back goes rod-straight as he looks up at me from his salad. “Is it up to me to make sure people can afford to gamble before they come in?”

“Of course not,” I huff. “It’s just that it destroys lives, doesn’t it?”

“Picking a fight with me, Violet?”

He’s right. I am trying to pick a fight now. I know it’s a bad idea while I’m doing it, but I’m doing it anyway.

I’d never pick a fight intentionally with Ray in the past year, closer to two years. That I’m doing this with Killian must say something about me feeling a bit more like myself, feeling like I can safely pick a fight with someone. That I’m trying to pick one with a guy who’s got a reputation of being dangerous? I might be losing my mind.

“Is gambling destroying your life or is it suddenly bringing you a bit of freedom?” he adds.

And then he studies me.

I draw in a long breath.

He’s right, and we both know it.

I exhale. “I apologize. I’m feeling a little blindsided here and…”

“Explain. Carefully.” He gives me a look that I can’t mistake as a warning. Of course he doesn’t want anyone to know the situation here.

“Well, you…” I lower my voice, “are in control of this situation. I’m not. I’m clueless here. And the clock is ticking. But we’re on what feels like another date.”

“It is another date. And my taking control of this situation has gotten you out of what you described yourself as a bad situation. Right or wrong?”

I frown. “You can’t fault me for being worried about the fall-out.” I look down at my plate and stab a crouton with my fork a little aggressively.

He grabs my left hand.

I swallow hard, feeling my body seize tight.

“Violet, look at me.”

I look up but shove the crouton in my mouth.

“Can you please trust me?” he asks, voice gentle, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “You don’t have any reason to, other than what you’ve seen from me so far. Have I given you any reason not to trust me so far?”

I chew what’s in my mouth, swallow, and then take a sip of my wine. I reach for my napkin with my free hand and dab my mouth before I answer. “I’m sorry. I’m being bitchy. Fear of the unknown must be why.”

He shakes his head. “We haven’t connected properly in a couple days. I’m sorry if you’ve been stressed out about tomorrow on top of the stress of worrying about your grandfather. If you hadn’t avoided me all week, you wouldn’t have to feel that way. I could’ve put your mind at ease.”

“But I had to avoid you,” I whisper.

“Why?” he asks.

And God, his eyes are so green.  And his lips look so - why are his lips so sexy? It’s not fair.

“Because… you know why.”

“Because I kissed you?”

I swallow and look down at my plate.

“Because you kissed me back?” he tries.

I nod. “It’s too soon, Killian. I’m not ready for-”

“Violet…”

“Why did you give him that well-paid job in Atlantic City if you didn’t even like him?”

Our dinner plates have arrived.

And he’s staring at me with intensity the likes I’ve never seen.

And I think I have my answer. This has been weighing heavily on me, too.

He sent Ray out of town to give me a breather. He did this for me.

“Still working on that?” Kay asks.

Another server is beside her, holding the two steaming plates.

I shake my head. “No, it was delicious, though. You can take it.”

“Mine, too,” Killian says, squeezing my hand before he lets go.

Kay takes our plates, and the other server sets down our dinner plates.

The smell hits my nose and I begin to salivate.

Kay is quickly back with a fresh drink for Killian and a bottle of wine, to top up my glass.

As soon as they’re gone, I ask, “Did you hire someone you hate just to give me a breather?”

“Something like that.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I don’t know why you bought yourself all this hassle.”

“Let’s enjoy our dinner, Violet. And then go enjoy the show. After that, we’ll try to get some sleep and then we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“It’s not looking good, though. I mean, I’m guessing you haven’t heard from him at all. Are you watching him?” I whisper that last part with my hand over my mouth.

“Shh. Enjoy your dinner, baby. Can you please just trust me when I tell you it’s all going to work out?”

I want to.

“Trust me,” he repeats.

The warm expression on his face tells me he sees that I want to.

“I’ll try,” I whisper and then I slice into my steak.

“Good girl,” he says and slices into his.

How is it that I have so little information but yet I keep trying to just trust him?

***

“That was the worst play I’ve ever seen in my life,” Killian tells me, laughing hard, as we leave the theater.

“I’ve seen one that was worse than that, but yeah, that was bad.”

“Worse than that?” He jerks his thumb behind him.

“Not only was the other one lousy, but the venue wasn’t great either. A rat ran straight by me just before we got to the door. It wasn’t even afraid of people. This place was swanky compared to that place.”

This venue wasn’t exactly spectacular. Our drinks were watered down. There were technical difficulties with their spotlight, and the lead female forgot her lines twice, but it might have been due to the spotlight issues.

But I was in my glory. And I forgot about my problems for ninety minutes.

“How did you find that?” I ask. “So much interpretive dancing!”

“I called your bank teller friend for ideas to take your mind off your worries.”

I bark out laughter and this earns me a smile before he explains.

“She said it was not only aptly named based on our current predicament, but she also said you’d tell me afterwards that it was the second-worst play you’ve ever seen. And that it makes it the second-best play you’ve ever seen?” He tilts his head with confusion.

“Which totally makes sense!” I gesture with a hand at the obviousness of the situation.

“I think you might be a little crazy,” he tells me. “You seek those things out? That’s time you can’t get back.”

I nod uber-fast. “It’s so much fun. It started by accident. I love bad musicals, cheesy slasher films. Suse stumbled upon an article with a list of the worst musicals of all time and we made it a mission to see them all. From there it spiraled into more bad stuff. Anything with a slew of bad reviews, we were all over it.”

He looks at me like I’m nuts.

“Everyone can yammer on about a bad movie in a movie theater because cast members obviously can’t hear you. But you don’t wanna make an actor feel bad, so you sort of pretend you’re not thinking that it’s the worst play in the world when really, you are. We used to go to amateur theater troops, dinner theaters, or when they’d open up big venues to little groups like kids’ school plays or dance recitals with kindergarteners. Love watching imperfections in action and trying to hide our true reactions. And then afterwards me and Suse would go do a post-mortem analysis and laugh our asses off because we’d have to give it a thumbs up and explain all the reasons why we liked it – though we didn’t.”

“Ridiculing those poor performers?” he gives me a look that oozes disapproval, but I’m sure he’s joking.

“All in good fun,” I wave. “And we never mock them to their faces. We also applaud their bravery.”

“You should both be forced to get on a stage and do live improv,” he says.

“We’ve done that. And karaoke, too. Bad karaoke – the worst. And we laugh at ourselves the hardest.”

We’re walking down the side-street toward his car, and when we get to it, his fingers tighten, and I’m twirled until my back is against the passenger door.

He looks down at me.

His mouth descends.

And as soon as his lips touch mine, I melt for him.

This time, I grab his hair with both of my hands and run my fingers through it.

Every strand that glides between my fingers feels like heaven as his lips seek mine out, takes control of them, and breathes life into me.

Life, sensation, the belief of ethereal, divine places that you could stay in forever because they’re that amazing.

“I want you, Violet,” he tells me and then his tongue is in my mouth and his hand slides around my hip to my ass and he squeezes while pulling me to him, making sure I feel his erection.

“Oh my God,” I say against his lips, which then slide down to my throat and move behind my ear as he caresses the shell of my ear with his nose.

“I agree.” The vibration of his lips behind my ear earns him a full body shiver.

“A bad play gave you a hard-on?” I whisper, coquettishly.

“You fucking give me a hard-on. I want you, bad. I want you in my bed tonight.”

I straighten and pull my lips tight. “Oh my God,” I whisper. I’m such a jerk. “I can’t,” I blurt. “I’m such a jerk.”

And the look in his eyes, it hurts to see the flash of disappointment. Because I don’t want to disappoint him. I want – very, very much to make Killian Coulter the exact opposite of disappointed.

I bury my face in his chest and breathe hard. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t yet. That shit with him isn’t even over.”

He lets out a long exhale and I find myself looking at the sexy column of his throat as he puts his chin on top of my head and just holds me for a second.

And it feels amazing the way he’s holding me, the cold air swirling around us, picking up speed and sending a chill through me. Because I feel alive right now. More alive than I’ve felt in a long while.

And then his phone is ringing. He sighs before he takes a half a step back to reach into his pocket for it and I note that his lip is curling as he angrily lifts the screen toward his face.

“What is it?” he asks impatiently.

And immediately after he does, his eyes change. He frowns.

“Frisk him. Watch him like a fuckin’ hawk. My office. Fifteen minutes.”

He tugs my hand so he can get me away from the door enough for him to open it and guide me inside.

“Back to Genesis we go. Apparently Raymond Iadanza is waiting there to see me.”

“What?”

“One sec.” He closes the door, rounds the car and gets in, turning to me.

“What?” I repeat.

“I want you. Very much. You’re not a jerk. Okay?”

I nod but not very convincingly.

“I’m not gonna push you to do something you’re not ready to do. Okay? Please, baby, trust me to handle this meeting with him. Let me do the talking, however it goes. I will not let anything happen to you.”

I nod some more.

“You believe me?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Trust me,” he says.

I nod again, this time with more certainty. “I do.”

He grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth for a brief kiss.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

I pull my lips tight and stare straight ahead.

He makes a call and puts his phone to his ear.

“Sorry, man, I was in a theater. Just heard he’s at Genesis. Any clue what’s up?”

He listens for a minute and then shakes his head. “Right. Not a shock. Okay, yeah. I’m fifteen minutes out.” He hangs up.

I’m in a daze for the entire ride, thinking holy crap.

Ray showing up early? Ahead of his deadline? What could this mean? This isn’t like him. Either he wants to plead his case and work something out for more time or he’s somehow managed to come up with the money.

No. No way.

“What does he owe you?” I ask.

“Just over fourteen k with the vig.”

“There’s no way,” I say. “No way would he have that money.”

“We’ll see.”

“What if he does?” I shake my head in astoundment.

“Remember, you said you’d trust me?” Killian asks.

I nod.

“Then trust me.”

44

Killian

He managed to give Wes the slip for two hours this morning. Wes apologized profusely and I was fuming, I drove over and sat outside Violet’s office building myself until he re-surfaced, watching to see if he would show up while checking all surveillance – Violet’s apartment, Violet’s job.

Wes caught the slippery fuck coming back with the old lady from the building early this afternoon before he went up to the apartment and did nothing, other than fuck around with a new cell phone he had. It was a throwaway, and Wes said he’d need more time to get details on it.

Iadanza also spent a lot of time in the bathroom, where we didn’t have a camera. This led me to the conclusion he suspects the apartment is bugged.

I should’ve put cameras into the old lady’s place the day before. Or even the day before that. He’s been there a lot, sitting with her. Drinking coffee with her. Took out her trash once and changed another light bulb the other time.

Whatever he’s pulled, he did it before Wes got those cameras in today. And I have a feeling he’s played that little old lady into emptying her bank account.

Fucking ass-wipe piece of shit.

***

I lead Violet into Genesis and it’s still busy. I get greetings from staff as we enter, but I nod and breeze by them with Violet, heading directly to my office.

Tony is sitting behind my desk, arms folded, eyes on me as I enter. Raymond Iadanza is sitting there, too, dressed in the suit he wore the night of the opening of Numbers and looking cucumber-cool as we enter.

He rises and holds out an envelope.

I take it. Tony moves away from my desk.

I sit down in my chair, taking Violet by the hand and keeping her behind the desk with me.

Her eyes are on the envelope.

I count the money. Quick flip and it looks like it’s all here.

“And it’s not fake?” I say, holding one of the bills up to the light.

Ray snickers. “That’d be ballsy of me, wouldn’t it?”

His eyes move to Violet.

And I pull her onto my lap.

She squeaks in surprise, but doesn’t pull away.

Clearly, I’m feeling proprietary.

“Now, I suppose our business is done, then, “ I say.

“Guess so. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to make things right, Killian. I appreciate it.”

He’s smiling but I see his unease at her being on my knee. The smugness about him makes me wanna flip my desk over and lunge at him.

Fucker thinks because I let him off when he showed up at her work, when he showed up at my club with a fucking gun means he’s got no real call to be afraid.

He’s very, very fucking wrong.

“Babe.” Raymond crooks his finger at Violet, gesturing for her to come to him.

She stiffens and doesn’t move.

“I have a proposition for you, Raymond,” I say, instead of ripping his face to shreds like I wanna do.

He looks at me. He’s about to refuse. I can see the writing on the wall. He wants her back. Badly. Well, he can’t fucking have her.

“Before you decline, I insist you hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“Pick your game. Blackjack? Best odds for you, right? Double or nothing? Or…”

Her body is tighter than a bow string.

“Or?” he asks.

And now I feel her tremble.

“What about instead of that ten grand you tried to wager if you got her down the aisle, I give you twenty to fuck off? Then I marry her instead of you?”

I wrap my arm around her waist and cup her hip. I squeeze, reassuringly.

“Man, I’ve learned my lesson,” he says. “I’m joinin’ Gamblers’ Anonymous. I’ve registered for my first meeting. Babe, I’m gonna get better, I fuckin’ promise you. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“How did you even get that money?” she asks.

“Okay, what’ll it take then?” I speak loudly, despite what Violet has just asked. “A hundred grand?”

“What’ll it take for what? For me to agree to let you keep her? Nothing. She’s not for sale, man. I love this girl. Three years, we’ve got together. I know I’ve been fuckin’ up lately, Vi, but this is you ‘n me here. We stay as a we through anything, right? Thick or thin.”

She doesn’t flinch. She stares at him and her expression has gone cold.

“Violet, let’s go,” he says and shoots me a look like he’s the righteous one.

“Where did that money come from, Ray?” she asks.

I squeeze her hip. “Baby.”

And then I drop a kiss on her collarbone. She shivers.

Ray’s eyes bounce between me and Tony and he loses the smugness when he sees the smile on my face.

I smile wider.

And now he’s tweaked. Good.

“Kill, I paid you. You have the money. Please, let’s just leave it at that. I’m sorry I fucked up. I will be forever grateful that you gave me the chance to make it right.”

“Multiple chances,” I correct, stroking the column of Violet’s sexy, satiny-soft throat with my fingertips.

Her eyes hit mine and I stare deep.

“Multiple chances. Yeah, man. And I made it right. I wanna take my fiancée and just go.”

“Violet, it’s up to you,” I say. “You wanna go with him?”

“Ray, we’re finished,” she says immediately, leaning into me, eyes still on mine.

Fuck, but I like the feel of that.

“Babe, let’s go talk.”

“No,” she says. “No,” she says again, and it’s loaded with emotion.

“Tony, a minute,” I say.

Tony shoots Raymond a dirty look and then he steps outside my office and shuts the door.

Violet straightens up, her chin pointed high. “We’re over, Ray. Please take your stuff from my apartment, and move on.”

He stares at her with disbelief, before grinding words out through tight teeth. “I fucked up and you have a right to be upset. But Vi, I told you I’d find a way. I found a way.”

“I don’t care. I’m done. We’re done. I told you this multiple times and I meant it. I’m done. Please, go.”

“No way,” he vows. “I’m gonna fix this, fix us.”

I pipe up. “Vacate her apartment, Raymond. Vacate her life. She wants you gone, so get gone. Maybe it’s time you left town. Make life easier for yourself.”

“Leave this to me and Violet, Kill. I paid you your money, I appreciate your kindness, but me and her have shit to work out. C’mon, Violet. Let’s go home and talk it out.” He stands.

Fucker does have a set of balls on him. And that’s by design, really.

Remaining on my lap, Violet’s arms cross her chest. “You’ve got until tomorrow to leave,” she says. “Killian, can I stay in your guest room one more night?”

“Yes,” I say. “Out, Raymond.”

He shakes his head and then he sneers. “Guest room?”

She says nothing.

He shakes his head some more. “You’re telling me you slept in his guest room? Did you keep your hands to yourself, Kill? Violet, if something happened with you and him, I forgive you. We can fix this… I just turned down twenty grand, Violet. He raised it to a hundred. You were right here.”

“Oh my God; shut up,” she snaps.

And pride swells in my chest as his back snaps straight and he stares at her with shock for a minute before talking fast. “You can’t think you’re gonna be with him now, Vi? Do you know anything about this guy? No offence, Kill, but she’s naïve and innocent. She has no clue the kinda life… Babe, if he’s got stars in your eyes over his lifestyle, believe me, it’s not something you’d want; I know you. And if he seduced you, believe me it was a one-off to get back at me. He doesn’t want you to be his woman, Violet. I know this has been a fucked-up situation, and-”

“The lady said shut up. You best listen,” I warn him.

“You’re the fucked-up situation, Ray. And we’re over. This has nothing to do with anybody but you. We had a good first year because you pretended to be someone you’re not. You pretended everything. And then our second year, I started to see where things were going wrong, but I tried. I tried so hard to be what you needed, to love you despite the fuck ups, to try to understand why they kept on happening.”

His shoulders drop and she keeps going.

“Bad shit kept happening to you because of you, Ray. You. Not everyone else.”

His head drops and he stares at his feet, but his lip is curling.

She keeps going. “I gave up everything to make you happy. People you didn’t like, even if I loved them. The things I did for fun. Over. Control of my finances, my life, everything. All to make you happy.”

His fists curl now. She keeps going. I’m ready in case he makes a move in her direction. I have a loaded gun strapped under my desk, under my right knee.

Gimme a reason, Ass-wipe.

“The more time went on, I realized you took so much from me. You gaslit me because you wanted to make sure I didn’t think I could possibly leave. You took my sense of self-worth and crushed it. My family. My friends. And all I had was you. You and your moods. You and your temper. You and your excuses for why everything was always going wrong.” Her voice hitches and I feel her take a deep breath. She keeps going, no tears, voice steadying like she’s gotten stronger while digging in to find the words. “You dragging me down to make me think I was lucky to have you, that no one would want me. You turned me into someone I don’t recognize. Got me into debt. Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep? Do you know how awful it felt when you ruined my credibility at my job because I kept having to go to them for advances when you messed up with money?”

She takes a shaky breath.

“And then when you smashed my grandmother’s doll out of spite, knowing how much I loved it, how much I missed her and how it was the last thing she ever gave me? That was the last of it. Cold hard truth stared me right in the face. When you smashed the wall beside my face and then told me days later that you should’ve hit me since I was acting like you did? I was already done at that point. You did beat me. Emotionally. I was your emotional punching bag for well over two years, Ray, and I’m done. I’m so done.” She stops, glares at him, and delivers her parting shot. “I don’t love you. I haven’t loved you in a long time. Loving you took so much from me and I want it back. I want me back.”

Damn. I want to kill this guy. I want his blood seeping into the earth.

“You paid Killian back his money, which is good, though I have no idea where you came up with it, but that’s on you. Not me. I don’t know; and really, I don’t care. I don’t ever wanna see you again. If you come near me after this, I’ll file a restraining order. You thought you lost me temporarily to gambling in Atlantic City, but you lost me a long time ago. We’re done. Have I finally made it clear enough for you?”

Ray lifts his chin and stares her in the face with a glare. He glares at her not like his heart is breaking, it’s like he’s turning to stone. He wants to hurt her, and the expression on his face, the curl in his lip, the way his fists are clenched has me ready to rip his fucking head off.

I reach up for my gun and am about to pull it from the strap, but Violet’s voice interrupts me.

“Killian? Can we end this now, please?”

My eyes meet hers and I see how ready she is to be done with this. My eyes move to Iadanza.

“You paid me, Ass-wipe. You’re off that hook with me. But she doesn’t wanna be with you; you need to respect that. You be gone from her apartment tomorrow and you stay outta her life. You don’t, I’ll make you sorry. You leave her be or I’ll be your worst nightmare.”

He bares his teeth, but his eyes are aimed at her, not me.

Fucking piece of shit.

I raise my voice. “Think of me as Violet’s attack dog. One word from her or the barest notion you’ve fucked with her, I attack. Anything happens to her, I attack. Tell me you get me, or I attack here and now.”

“Yeah. I get you.” He stomps out but looks over his shoulder at her with a hateful glare that chills my blood.  The hate coming at her surprises me.  That he would look at her like that? I know what she’s said about him, but to see him react like that with her? I really don’t fucking like the way it makes my gut feel. And there’s another thing that’s crystal-clear right now. Iadanza is not afraid; he’s got some false confidence right now.

Tony jerks his chin at me from the hall.

“Shut the door; I’m good,” I say and give him a hand signal I know he’ll recognize.

He nods and closes the door.

Violet tries to get up off my lap, but I grab her and hang on.

“It’s over. Yeah? It’s all good.”

She begins shaking.

“You did good, baby. I’m proud of you.”

She starts bawling; she buries her face in my neck and I wrap my arms tight around her, smelling her hair, feeling the tears hit the hollow of my throat.

“It’s okay. I’ll take you home, run you a bath, and you call in sick to work tomorrow, okay, Violet? You did so good, baby. You were strong. You are strong, yeah?” My voice has gone gruff.

She nods and burrows in deeper to me.  And the feeling in my chest, it’s powerful.

“You probably only let him have 10% of what he deserved but it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to waste your breath on somebody who no longer factors for you. Right?” I drop a kiss on her head.

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder,  letting out a shudder. Fuck me, but it feels good the way she’s melting into me.

I’d prefer to carry her to the car, have someone drive us home so I can keep her attached to me just like this.  But she pulls free of me and lifts her chin up, grabs a Kleenex from a box on my credenza, and dabs her eyes. She squares her shoulders and it makes me even more proud of her. She’s about to head through the club, but I grab her hand and redirect her out the back door, so she doesn’t have to see more people than necessary. I put her in my car and start it up.

“One second, Violet,” I say and then I tap out a text to Wes.

“He delivered the cash and left. Follow him tonight and tomorrow. You’re on the job for another day or two at least. Possibly longer. Figure out the old lady situation and trace the money.”

I wait as I see he’s read the message and is responding.

Wes: “Got it. He’s in a cab now. I’m tailing.”

I start the car up.

“You just left that money on your desk,” she whispers.

She’s dabbing her eyes with the Kleenex.

“Like the fourteen thousand dollars didn’t even matter.” She looks at me with confusion.

“It doesn’t. Not really,” I say.

She studies me like I’ve just given her a riddle. A riddle I don’t think she’s ready to unscramble.

“My staff’ll take care of it,” I say quickly. “Tony knows it’s there. He’ll either lock my office or he’ll give it to Alana. Not a worry.”

“You would’ve given him a hundred thousand dollars to go away?”

“No. I read the situation, his confidence, body language. It was just part of the game, baby.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Thank you?” I query.

“If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d have had the guts to let him have it like that. I’d have run away and hid. Or tried to do it gently and have him just bulldoze over what I want to get what he wants. Or something equally pathetic. Thanks to you, I had the courage to do that. I knew I could safely do it.”

“You’re welcome, Violet.” I reach over and squeeze her knee.

“I can’t believe it’s over. He’s… God, I hope he just goes and never bothers me again. Could it really be this easy? I mean it hasn’t been easy. It really, really hasn’t. But could it really be over? I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around that.”

I say nothing, because I know she’s processing and needs to just babble after all that, the build-up, and the shock of him showing up with that money tonight.

But he won’t be bothering her again; I know that much.

Because from here on in, she’s mine.

And nobody fucks with what’s mine.

And also, nobody tries to fuck me over without feeling my wrath.

He thinks he got off easy. Is probably thinking I’m too legit now to fuck him up, that the legends are fake or that I no longer play dirty. That I’d offer him a fat wad of cash to leave her alone – because I’m weak?

No. He has no fucking idea who he’s dealing with.

45

Violet

I’m all jittery. I think it’s adrenaline. The fear of what was coming in 24 hours, the shock that it was coming to a head early. The astoundment at Ray coming up with over fourteen thousand dollars. And then getting to let him have it verbally. Getting to tell him we’re over. Doing it from Killian’s lap, of all places, was strange, but the way I saw it, he was making a statement that he was protecting me.

Or maybe he wanted Ray to think he and I were something – I don’t know, I haven’t been able to translate all my feelings into coherent thoughts quite yet.

But I had the strength to really, absolutely, make sure Ray knows. We are done.

I’m single.

I’m officially single.

No more limbo. It’s done.

Tomorrow, I can go home. Start my life over.

Finish healing. I finally feel like I’ve already made a good start.

I look at Killian as he pulls into the underground of his condo.

“I couldn’t have done this alone. If you hadn’t sent him to Atlantic City in the first place, it would not have been easy to get rid of him. I probably would’ve had to run and hide or file a restraining order. I maybe would’ve even ended up dead. Because he was at the end of his rope with the debt he had with the other guy and things were sketchy there for a bit. Really sketchy. He was really, I think, near the end of his rope. Thank you for helping me. I know you probably feel like you got stuck helping me, but-”

“It’s my pleasure, Violet.”

His eyes are on me and they’re emitting heat and emotion. I have trouble tearing my gaze away until he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

I snap to reality and unbuckle my own belt, then as I’m reaching for my bag from the floor, and he’s already opening my door for me. I smile up at him. “Such a gentleman.”

He gives me a look - I think it’s a sexually charged one that tells me he disagrees with that statement. My belly swoops. Definitely sexually charged.

Uh oh.

My head feels swimmy and my knees wobble.

He’s got my hand and he’s leading me to the elevator.

A dozen questions are flying through my brain about where Ray got that money, what he might do next, worry about whether or not he really will leave me alone, plus the strange sensations that feel like they’re coming through the connection of my hand inside Killian’s hold.

Questions and white noise fill my head until we’re inside his apartment and I’m feeling strange. Like I’m missing something. Or forgetting something. Or maybe that this really can’t be over. Can it?

“You’re not going to hurt him right? If he leaves me alone, you’ll let it all go?”

There’s a long moment of silence while Killian studies my face.

“Is that what you want?” he finally asks.

“It is. I don’t want violence, not because of me, ever.”

“Want a drink?” he asks, as he takes his jacket off after disarming the alarm.

I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.

He stands there, looking at me. And I take him in. All of him. His height. His muscular build. Those sexy eyes. His strong-looking hands. That mouth.

That sinfully sexy mouth.

“Violet?” he asks, in that deep and sexy voice.

It’s husky right now as his eyes travel my face.

I’m suddenly tripping over my own feet to connect with him. I grab his jaw and drag his mouth to mine. There’s a quick inhale of surprise from him before he takes over. He’s suddenly in charge, pulling me to him with his arms around my waist. His right hand slides from my hip up my torso, over the swell of my breast until he’s got my jaw cupped.

He makes a husky groaning sound as he spins me around and puts my back against the wall.

“Fuck,” he groans. And then he lifts me by the waist and kisses me again. I’m off the ground and he’s grinding me down on his erection. Holy moly. I whimper and before I’ve had a chance to fully process, he shifts me into his arms and heads down the hallway with me.

Oh shit. What have I done? I know where this is headed.

And I’m panicking.

“Wait. Wait!”

He stops and his eyes lock with mine.

“I… I’m sorry. But I… I…” He sets me on my feet in front of the door to the second bedroom, the one between my room and his.

I flatten my palm against my chest and try to catch my breath.

His eyes search my face.

“Um…” I chew on my bottom lip.

He shakes his head, letting out a long breath. “It’s okay.” He looks so disappointed. So. Disappointed. “I misread the signal.”

“I’m a little scrambled, so, I-”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, heads down the hall, palming his face with body language that screams frustration and then he closes the door.

I gulp. I stare at his closed door for a minute before I head into my room. I lean against my closed door and close my eyes.

Shit. That was cruel of me. Really cruel. What was I thinking?

Maybe I was just thinking it’d be a kiss. But that’s stupid of me. I should’ve known. I should’ve known he’d think it was all green lights and arrows pointing to his bed.

I’m too emotional right now; I can’t think straight.

I should call Susanna. Tell her it’s over. I should celebrate. But right now I’m just feeling like my body is vibrating. Like I don’t know how to feel. What to feel. What to do. I need to de-stress.

I go into the bathroom, peel off my clothes, and stand under the hot water, staring at the tiled wall for a long time.

After I’m dressed for bed and in my robe, I slip out and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Everything is quiet; I still quickly get back into my room, so I won’t run into him.

There’s no light shining from the gap under his door.

***

It’s well after midnight and my brain won’t stop twirling around things. So many things.

I typed out an email to my boss, telling her I have a personal emergency and can’t be at work on Thursday. I apologized, telling her that if she can’t get things covered for me, let me know and I’ll login remotely and do at least the bare minimum from home.

The alert startles me when she replies a few minutes later. She tells me not to worry about it. She’ll have someone cover for me Thursday and Friday. Tells me to take some personal days. Then she asks if my grandfather is okay.

I reply that it’s not him, that my relationship ended, dramatically, I say that if she thinks it’s a crappy reason to call off work, I’ll get my butt in there in the morning. She responds and tells me not to worry, to take the days – says I almost never use my personal days allotment and I’m making everyone else look bad. I smile at this attempt to cheer me up. She also tells me to take Monday if I need to. And then she sends a long email about her last breakup, which was really ugly. Her guy cheated, was abusive, and she caught him and then he tried to keep the apartment and all her stuff. She ends it telling me to take care of myself and to let her know if I want to bend her ear, catch a movie, or if I want some company over the weekend.

I always figured Shara liked me, but she’s acting like we’re friends. And it makes me smile in the dark at the screen.

I have more friends now than I had for a long time. Scratch that, I’m finally letting myself have friends again. And it feels good.

It starts raining and by the time two o’clock rolls around, I find myself perched on the desk by the window, in the dark, cross legged, watching the water make trails down the window.

I’m startled again when the door abruptly swings open, and I see Killian’s shadow. He climbs into the bed and feels around. He moves erratically, disoriented.

He’s sleepwalking. And I think he’s looking for me and becoming agitated that he can’t find me. He pats the bed and then he’s digging through my blankets. He groans out a horrible sound of distress, so I hop off the desk and move to him.

“Killian?” I call out, touching his forearm.

He grabs me. He roughly pulls me to his body, gasping with what sounds like relief as his arms wind tight around me.

“What’s wrong?” I breathlessly ask.

“Violet?” His voice is panicked.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay? You sleepwalking?”

His hands are in my hair and he’s breathing hard. The tip of his nose grazes mine and my heart takes flight.

“I couldn’t find you,” he mutters, his palms travel down my shoulders and then to my elbows before skating back up until he’s cupping my jaw on both sides. “Couldn’t find you,” he repeats and I’m standing there with goosebumps all over.

“Sorry,” he mutters, releasing me.

I sway unsteadily.

He turns and sort of stumbles out of the room.

I stand there, heart galloping in my chest.

He was driven to protect me again. He was frantic in his search in the blankets for me.

Probably because of how amped things were tonight. Probably because Ray looked at me with that death-stare that has always chilled me to the bone.

And Killian made me feel safe. This has my heart in my throat.

Before I can calculate what I’m doing, I’m padding barefoot down the hall to his bedroom.

I can’t think over the sound of my thundering pulse, and this might be a good thing, because my brain would surely talk me out of what I’m about to do.

As I get to the bench at the foot of his bed, he jackknifes to sitting.

“What’s wrong?” he demands.

46

Killian

“What are you doing here?” I fire another question at her after she doesn’t answer my first one.

“I’m not sure,” she says, timidly and breathlessly.

My blinds are open, and it means enough light comes in to make out she’s wearing next to nothing. A short nightgown with spaghetti straps. With cleavage. And it clings.

I can’t tear my eyes off her body in the moonlight. And she’s standing there visibly trembling. I see the hem of her nightgown shaking.

“Unless you want me all over you, you better go back to your bed. Now,” I warn.

She stands up straighter. Have I shocked her? Good. Because I’m serious. Serious as a god damned heart attack.

“Killian,” she breathes in a way that does her no favors because I want her to say it again like that, right into my mouth while I’m burying myself inside her.

“All over you, Violet,” I warn gruffly. “My hands, my mouth, my cock – which is rock.” I grind out the rest, “Fucking. Hard. I’ve been holding myself back, I’m at the end of my chain, baby, and yet you’re in arms reach so you’re about to get it if you don’t go.”

“I don’t know how to feel,” she breathes and clasps hair at both sides of her head. She shifts from one foot to the other, but doesn’t move farther away.

“Then go. Because looking at you here at the foot of my bed, in what you’re wearing? I know how I feel.” I twist sideways to reach the bedside lamp and turn it on.

I level her with a serious gaze as I get to take in more of her.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” I tell her.

She sucks on the side of that delicious-looking bottom lip in contemplation as pink stains her cheeks.

The pale pink, nearly sheer silky nightgown she has on… I can’t tear my eyes off her. She’s breathtaking.

Her nipples are erect, poking at the fabric.

“Are you staying or going?” I demand.

She frowns.

“Violet,” I growl. “I’m warning you. Go right now or you’re in this bed and it might not go gentle.”

She plants both hands on her hips. “That’s not a real nice way to ask a girl to spend the night in your bed.”

I whistle low, feeling my temperature rise at that sass. I just might rip that little pink nightgown up and slap her ass.

“You don’t walk away right now; you’re not goin’ anywhere. You don’t walk away and go back to your room, you’re gonna be in this bed and you’re getting fucked. Fucked like you’ve never been fucked. And I don’t just mean once. It might not ever stop.”

47

Violet

I need to swallow, but holy crap – I can’t. Because my throat is like a desert right now. Why is that so sexy? He looks angry. Why am I turned on if he looks angry? He looks like he wants to devour me. And I’ve never been more aroused.

If this were Ray acting like this, I’d be shaking, cowering. I’m not afraid, though.

I stand, like a deer caught in headlights for a second before I manage, “That was blunt.”

“And with that said, are you still not sure how to feel?” he asks, voice gentler. A lot gentler. His eyes haven’t lost their edge though.

I swallow hard. “I think I know how I’m feeling.”

He says nothing for a minute, neither do I.

Finally, he asks “And?” Now he looks like his patience is hanging on by a thread. Half a thread.

“And I think I’m frozen in shock. I’ve got a few weeks of holding back emotion too. With you… with all this crazy stuff happening and you’ve made me feel… well… let’s just say I’ve been holding back hard. I’ve been so afraid to let myself really feel what I’m feeling; I’m not sure I know how to let go of that.”

“Two weeks?” he bites off, “Try three years.”

“Huh?”

He crawls down to the bottom of the bed and stays on his knees, facing me. Close. Not more than a few inches between us.

And I feel a magnetic pull. I sway.

“Wanted you from that first night, three years ago.”

I flinch.

“Saw you on that dance floor, Violet. I probably saw you first, before he did, and something hit me right in the fucking chest.”

I draw in a sharp breath. “You left.”

“I left.”

“Why?”

Now, he flinches. His face… it looks like he’s in physical pain and this leaves my chest feeling hollow.

“Do you want me too, Violet?” he asks.

Emotion overpowers me to the point I feel my knees buckle as I nod, and then I’m practically floating through the air as he lifts me up and puts me on my back on his bed.

And then he is on me. His lips crash into mine and it’s the most beautiful collision I can imagine.

In his big, warm bed. Under the heat of him.

“Violet,” he rasps.

I swallow, overwhelmed at how right this feels, how beautiful. My fingers weave into his hair at both sides of his head; my whole body is out in goosebumps.

“To get this on the table right here, right now,” he adds, “I don’t just want you for tonight.” He speaks directly against my parted lips. My chest rises and falls rapidly. “I mean going forward.”

“That’s… fast,” I say, “I just got single and it’s probably not a good idea to-”

“You’ve been outta love for a year. Seems to me you’ve been single long enough.”

He kind of has a point.

“But I don’t want you to be a rebound, and –”

“Calling me a rebound suggests I’m not light years ahead of him in terms of appeal and baby, I’m kinda insulted.”

I laugh. “When you put it that way…”

I’m about to say something else, but then his lips are on mine. He kisses with hunger. He tastes me like he has been waiting three years for this moment, me under him, in his bed.

I soak it all in as he expertly ravishes my mouth, sounds coming from him that are so sexy I want to tattoo everything about this moment on my brain.

This feels important. This feels like a beginning. It feels like I’ve been waiting a lot longer than two weeks for it, too.

My nightgown gets unceremoniously whipped over my head and he reaches down to my hip and finding no panties to yank off, he makes a sound that I think equals approval. His fingertips slide between my thighs and he finds me ready. Very.

His fingers drive in without hesitation and then slowly, he pulls them back, and glides them up to my clit. He lifts up a little and stares at me down there, then puts pressure before his fingers do a little twirl.

God, that feels good. But I feel so exposed; his lamp is still on. And he’s watching what he’s doing, paying such close attention.

“Killian,” I whisper, and then our eyes meet. Lock. For moments, years – I have no clue.

“Fuck, Violet.” His mouth moves across my face, down my jaw, then he nibbles on my throat, making my back arch as he works his lips down to my breasts, not letting up with that delicious finger twirling while he dots kisses across me and takes little nips at my skin on the way.

He finds his way to my breasts and as his mouth closes over a nipple he takes a pull on it. The pulling sensation feels amazing. Awareness blooms – he’s erect; I feel that pressing promisingly against my leg.

I’ve been so caught up in this I’ve just stayed still, taking it all in, staring at the boxed architectural detail on the ceiling while sensations and heat fill me. I definitely want to touch him, too, more than I want oxygen at this moment, so I reach down and palm his cock, then squeeze before sliding my hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs and freeing him. I fumble to get those boxer briefs down enough to get my hands on all of him.

God, he feels good. His skin is hot, and the lamp is still on, so I look down. Yeah, he’s beautiful, all right. All of him. And there’s a lot of him.

Killian’s fingers sift into my hair as he tilts my head so that he’s got access to my mouth again. He kisses me softly, but then I’m sliding down the mattress, being repositioned. He grabs my ankles and hooks them over his sexy shoulders.

“Oh my gosh,” I breathe before I cover my mouth a second later to make sure I’m not embarrassingly loud while his mouth is down there.

“Ho wow,” I think I say aloud; I have no idea if I say it or simply lie there soundlessly just thinking it.

He kisses down there, tongue and suction are both involved, and it has my body jolting and arching in seconds, chasing what I know is about to be a huge release.

It goes from amazing to somehow even better when a finger, no two fingers thrust inside me and Killian pumps in and out, not letting up on the suckling of my clit.

Ten or twenty seconds later, I’m coming so hard my toes are cramping.

He picks that moment to press a digit against my back entrance and breach it a tiny bit.  That intrusion rockets a cry from my lips and then my body contracts. It feels like it clenches everywhere, including me clenching a handful of his dark hair in my hand.

Nobody has ever done that to me, and I’m probably pulling too hard on his hair as my orgasm levels up.

He climbs up my body, reaches to the side and I hear a drawer slide open.

I let go and put both hands over my face. That was… holy shit…

Tears prick my eyes. I blow out a long breath.

“One down, now let’s build up to it again,” he says, and smiles at me. “This time slower. You’re beautiful when you come, Violet. I can’t tell you how happy I am that I’m gonna get to see a fuckin’ lot of that.”

I stare, chest rising and falling as I try to recover from that, as I process what he’s just said – how hot it is to hear something like that, and then I watch as he rips the corner of the condom package with his teeth. He holds my eyes captive as he rolls it on and lines up.

Slamming his hips forward, he’s seated deep inside me.

And the look on his face… wow.

A primal sound escapes my mouth as I grab his shoulders. A tear slides out of my eye. An emotional tear. He hefts me up by my bottom and knee-walks forward until my back is flush against the high cushioned headboard. He must have a whole heck of a lot of upper body strength to do that so effortlessly.

He drives up into me over and over. The plush headboard cushions me, thankfully, as I’m slammed back repeatedly, the power of his hips along with gravity making this feel completely amazing.

Why did I fight this?

This… it’s incredible.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod.

His thumb swipes away the tear that’s now on my cheekbone and he kisses me.

I hold on tight with my arms, my legs, and clench around him as he holds me between the velvety headboard and his hard, hot muscled body. I’m rewarded for that Kegel clench with a groan and then he’s pinching my nipple as his tongue dips into my mouth.

I can taste myself and I taste him, too. It’s beyond hot what he’s doing to me – all of what he’s doing to me.

My hands rove his chest, his shoulders. It’s surreal that I’ve got my hands all over this man. This man that I first lusted after what feels like a lifetime ago; this man that has been the focus of my daydreams for the past month. This has to be the sexiest chest I’ve ever touched.  Pinching his nipples earns me a hard thrust forward before I’m spun again and my back is then on the mattress, one leg gently pulled up over his shoulder, the other one off to the side as he pounds inside me like a man enthralled, driven by nothing but carnal need.

Two more tears fall, and he kisses me again.

His eyes are on mine and they’re communicating something as he pins me by one leg, then grabs my face with his other. He caresses my face in a way that communicates, too; it communicates he’s happy that we’re right here right now and he’s definitely wanted this for a while. And he’s enjoying it. I don’t know how I know all this, but there’s a synchronicity between us that I just feel. I feel it like this was always supposed to be.

For me? It’s the best sex I’ve had. Ever. It’s been a while since I had good sex, but I don’t think I’ve ever had anything that compares to this.

This is physical and it’s emotional. We’re connecting on multiple levels. The eye contact, the caresses, the sounds, I love this. I don’t want this feeling to ever end.

God, the way he looks at me. It’s amazing.

“Killian,” I whimper, digging my nails into his back. “God, you feel so good.”

His mouth forms an O and then he powers faster for a few strokes and then surges forward and lets out a deep, manly growl as he comes.

Damn, is he ever hot when he comes.

He briefly buries his face into my chest, then lifts up to drop a kiss on my lips before rolling so that I’m sprawled across his body. He yanks blankets over and covers us, then reaches over and grabs a remote.

There’s no television in here. It takes just a second for my unasked question to be answered when fire springs forth in his fireplace at the opposite end of the room.

I smile.

He tosses the remote, kisses me, squeezes me, and then gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom.

I watch until he disappears, acknowledging that he has got to have the sexiest naked ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. His thighs, too. Muscled and sexy.

I lay still, floating in post-coital bliss for a minute before he returns, still naked and no longer wearing the condom.

“Want a drink?” he asks, leaning over, touching my face.

“Apple juice,” I say and smile.

“Apple juice,” he parrots, then he drops a kiss on my nose, chuckles and then leaves the room, still naked.

My smile widens and is fixed in place until he’s back with a tall glass of chilled juice for me, a water bottle for himself.

I’d seen the big jug of the juice in the back of the fridge every time I opened it in my two weeks here, and it just hit me that I wanted it.

I drink it back; tasting pure, potent, cold nectar infusing me with something awesome and then it hits me. “Is this juice in your fridge for Alana’s kids?”

His shoulders shake as he swallows while putting the cap back on his water bottle.

“Yep.”

“I suck.”

His chuckle becomes audible.

“It’s a good thing I haven’t touched those biscuits, the cookie dough, or the other junk then otherwise those kids are gonna wanna put a price on my head.”

“You should touch it. It’s for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. Stuff I thought you’d like. I keep juice and cereal on hand for when she pops by with the kids, maybe some cookies occasionally, but most of the junk food was stocked with you in mind. I told Patricia you liked donuts and bagels for breakfast so said to get you carb-ish snacks.”

“That’s sweet,” I say.

“What can I say? I’m here to please.”

“With junk food?” I can’t believe a throwaway comment about what I eat was something he took to heart in trying to make me feel comfortable at his home.

“Do you like junk food?”

“Have you seen my ass?”

“Oh yeah I have,” he says as he grabs it. “I mean… I might’ve noticed. But let me get a better look.” He takes my glass and sets it down on the bedside table.

I tilt my head curiously but then I squeal because the comforter has been thrown back and I’m being flipped onto my belly. His face is mischief-filled while he does it.

Hot palms skate over my rear end before Killian leans over and nips my right cheek playfully with his teeth. He immediately kisses that spot and flips me back over. I gasp, laughing as he pulls the blanket back over us, a beaming smile on his sexy face.

“So, I get junk food, nice décor, chauffeur service and crazy-ex protection services?” I ask, putting my chin on his shoulder.

“And…” he adds, leaving it dangling with a sparkle in his eyes.

“And stunning orgasms,” I whisper.

He pulls me closer, kisses me long and sweet, making an mm sound against my mouth, and then asks, “Stunning?”

I nod slowly. “Completely.”

“You taste good,” he says, licking his lips.

“Who knew apple juice was such a perfect post-sex beverage?” I ask.

“You want another stunning orgasm?”

I can’t help but smile.

“Dimples,” he says and shakes his head. “Gotta say, I see pulling out all the stops often in my future to earn me these.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip while heat blooms in my chest.

He gives me a look loaded with sexiness as his fingers slide between my legs.

My sharp intake of breath releases my lower lip from my teeth, but then abruptly, Killian changes his mind and flips me up onto him so that I’m sitting on his chest, straddling his face.

“Whoa.” I reposition myself a little more comfortably, but I can’t move much because he’s got my butt in his hands and he’s going crazy down there with moves I’ve never experienced, moves that have me jolting, whimpering, and finally, rocking into the motion. It doesn’t take long before I’m shamelessly grinding into his face, crying out with a handful of his hair in my hand.

I can’t help but look down to watch him do that. It’s fascinating. He’s enjoying what he’s doing, too. Judging by this being the second time tonight, it’s not a chore for him like some guys I’ve been with. He reaches up and cups one of my breasts, rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger.

I fall face-first into the cushioned headboard, just about to crest over the edge of sensation when it hits me that I don’t wanna be selfish here and come alone, so I reach behind me and greedily grab for his cock.

And it’s a rod of steel. I twist around so that I can get my lips to it. He loses access to between my legs, as now I’m all about getting my mouth on him. He flips me, putting me on my belly across his torso with his head between my legs, and my mouth closes around his cock.

“Sixty-nine. What a delicious number. Now we’re talkin’ my language,” he informs, and then sucks hard on my clit.

I whimper around his cock, then jolt with the slap that rings across my ass, coinciding with a deep groan coming from his mouth. And I know it’s a happy groan, so I apply myself and do my absolute best work sucking him off.

There’s a lot of him, so I use my hands, my mouth, and my boobs to lavish attention on his cock, his balls, and all the while, he’s licking, sucking, biting, and fingering between my legs.

I’m crying out, coming before he is and so I try to keep going. I try hard, but I know it’s lost some of its luster. It’s okay, though, I think, because he rolls me to my back and then he’s thrusting into my mouth, not making me do all the work while I try and fail because I’ve got googly eyes right now from climaxing so hard. I grab his ass cheeks with both hands and do my best to suck. And then he’s coming down my throat.

My head is at the wrong end of the bed. My eyes are closed and I’m smiling, big. I can’t move. I’m just… boneless.

“Dimples,” he utters, then drops a soft kiss on first the left, then right corner of my mouth. “Hey.” His hands reach under my armpits and I’m turned so I’m back up at the top of the bed.

“Hey,” I return and then I manage to sit up. I reach for my glass of apple juice and I drink the rest back before collapsing onto the pillows. Killian pulls me by my waist toward the other side of the bed. Spooning me.

His arms are around me, I’m nestled into him, and I am completely blissed out.

“Sweet dreams, Killian.”

“Tonight? Definitely,” he says and kisses my jaw softly.

I close my eyes.

“No sleepwalking,” I tell him.

“Nope, not happenin’. Got what I want right here.”

I shiver. It’s a good shiver, and it’s made even better when his arms go tighter around me.

48

Killian

She’s attached to me while she sleeps, and I love every second of it. I wake three or four times abruptly, but having her here in my bed with me… I fall back asleep easily each time.

***

The weekday seven o’clock alarm I set two weeks ago for getting her to work begins to sound off. I groan while stretching over to make it stop.

Her eyes pop open.

“We don’t have to be up,” she says. “I called in sick.” She snuggles in and runs her nose along my jaw, making a sexy, purring sound.

That sound she’s making is an alarm clock for my cock.

“Actually, today I do,” I say.

“Oh.” Violet looks up at me and pouts.

Fuck, she’s in my bed. Naked. Warm, sweet, and I’d bet she’s wet, too. Ready to be fucked again.

“But I’ve got an hour to kill before I need to leave.” I roll her to her back and pull the bedside drawer handle, which glides open so I can fetch a condom.

She thrusts her fingers into my hair while she kisses my throat, making tingles hum straight up my spine, pulling goosebumps to the surface on my arms and legs.

This girl. She’s fucking gorgeous in the morning. She’s in my bed, her hair everywhere. It’s still mostly straight from the way she wore it yesterday, but already I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and see it again all over my sheets – hopefully in those corkscrew curls of hers that I’ve been dreaming about.

She’s got a beautiful body. She’s soft, curvy, sexy. The tits and ass on her were carved by a generous deity who seems to like me right now. She smells good. She tastes great. She’s got a tight pussy and she makes sexy sounds when she comes.

Violet gives fuckin’ great head, and although I take a moment while I roll the condom on to let myself reflect briefly on that, my thoughts do not stray to that fuckhead and his words about it for long. Because she’s mine.

He doesn’t fucking factor into who she is or what she’s gonna be to me.

The only thing that matters to me is that he’s out of her life.

Do I want to rip his face off for all the times he’s hurt her?

Fuck, yes.

Do I want to make sure he never sets eyes on her again?

Yes, I do.

But she asked me not to hurt him. As much as it chaps me, something about Violet makes me want to do what she wants.

Right now, I don’t wanna think about Raymond Iadanza.

Right now, I plan to start my day off right by fucking Violet.

My Violet.

She’s whimpering into my shoulder as I fuck her like I’ve got something to prove. Like I’m making sure she gets that she’s mine, like I’m proving that she’s gonna get to come again and again in this bed, because I’m gonna be the man for her. The man who gives her everything she wants. Anything she needs. All of it. Stunning orgasms. Beautiful things. Foot rubs. Back rubs. My protection. Everything I have. She’s mine. I’m hers.

This tight, hot pussy is mine. These beautiful double D’s? Mine. The long, sexy legs, the full lips, the gorgeous and satisfied look in these chocolate brown eyes, these adorable dimples?

All. Fucking. Mine.

***

“So, you can’t get out of your day?” she asks me after taking a long drink of the glass of juice I’ve brought her.

I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off her. I could watch her all day. “Unfortunately, no. But I’ll get back here to you as fast as I can. Get some sleep. I have energetic plans for this evening.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

“But… what about you? You didn’t get much sleep either.”

She looks exhausted, well-fucked, and blissed out in my blankets, her eyes sleepy. I’m showered, shaved, dressed in a suit, and on the edge of the bed. She’s stroking my thigh as she talks to me and it needs to stop because she’s waking my dick up again. I’m talking myself out of fucking her one more time before I go. I’m about to be late.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Don’t die!” She pokes me in the chest.

I kiss her nose.

“I have tomorrow off, too. Do you have to work tomorrow?” she asks.

“Tomorrow night I need to host a team meeting at Numbers. Why don’t you meet your friends after work in the bar for a drink and then bring ‘em over to Numbers. Have some fun. I’ll set up a VIP booth, load players’ cards for everyone, get a driver to get you all there, and then the driver can take them home and you and me can end the night back here.”

“That sounds like fun. Thank you. ”

I like that there’s excitement in her eyes.

“Let me know how many to arrange it for and I’ll get the details to Craig over there. My meeting with them is for an hour after close. You can wait up in my office for me.”

She smiles. “You’re awesome.”

“See you later, baby. Rest up and I’ll be awesome again when I get home.” I kiss her one more time and stand up.

“I plan to sleep a little, but later I should go to my place, get my mail, make sure he hasn’t…” She makes a face of distaste.

“Leave it for a couple days. Where’s the key? I’ll send someone over to check your mail. You need anything else from there before the end of the weekend?”

“Not urgently. My keys are on the desk in your guest room.”

“Today, I’ll make sure he’s vacated, grab your mail, and you and me will go over together Sunday and survey it.”

“Okay. Leave my car key in case I need it today?”

“No problem, but stay away from that apartment, okay? Until I know he’s vacated.”

“Not to worry. I have no desire to run into him.”

“You worried he’ll fuck with your stuff?”

She ponders this while wrinkling her nose. “No. I don’t think he will, not with knowing you’ve told him to leave me alone. If he does… it’s just stuff. He could get vindictive though with my photo albums. Hm…” She looks torn. And then she gets a look on her face that might be panic.

“I’ll make sure he vacates,” I tell her.

“No violence, please,” she says.

All I want for that guy is violence.

“I’ll get your mail. Maybe get someone to bring your stuff over here.”

“That’s not necessary, I…”

“Or pack up your shit and put it in storage. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” I reach for my phone.

“What? Storage? I don’t-”

“We can either go together and you can look everything over, or I can just hire some movers to go in and get everything.”

“Wait.”

I stop talking.

“Movers?” she asks.

Her eyes are wide.

“I’m jumping the gun, I know I am. I also know what I want. I want you, Violet.”

“Let’s take this one step at a time, Killian.” Her face has gone red.

I flex my jaw, feeling mildly frustrated. “Baby, okay, how about this… I pay for you to keep your place for three months, but anything important comes here. We’ll review again in –”

“I can pay for my own place.” She folds her arms over her chest.

“Keep the apartment for a bit and then you’ve got it there if for some reason you decide you need space, but I’m telling you right now, I’m gonna make it so you don’t want it.”

She blows out a breath and I see panic in her eyes. I want it gone. Her hands are trembling.

I feel like shit for being the cause of this.

“Whoa. Let’s back up,” I suggest.

She looks completely flipped. “This is too f-fast, Killian. My head is spinning.”

“Violet.” I take her hands into mine and squeeze gently. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m pressuring you here. That’s not my intent. Let’s table all this for now.  Okay?” I lean over and kiss her.

She shivers.

“Okay?” I repeat.

She nods.

“Get some sleep. I’m gonna go, deal with my day. What do you wanna do for dinner tonight?” I tuck her hair behind her ear.

She says nothing. She’s just staring at me with that panic in her eyes.

“Forget everything for now. I’ll go do my thing, you get some rest, and then we’ll have dinner tonight. Today is a good day. Day one where you wake up not worrying about that schmuck. Okay? That’s all.”

She pulls her lips tight.

“What do you want to eat tonight?” I ask and play with a lock of her hair.

She considers this. “What do you feel like?”

Relief floods me at the change of emotion, at how her face relaxes.

“How about I make pizza?”

Light sparks just a little in her eyes. It’s enough.

“From scratch?”

“Yeah. From scratch. Or mostly. I don’t have time to make dough today, but I’ll put it together with my own two hands.” I wiggle my fingers.

“Very capable hands, from what I can tell, I must say.” She shows me her dimples and I can’t help but grab her and pull her tight to me, relieved that the mention of me cooking for her has canceled out her panic. “You gonna sleep for a bit?” I ask this into her hair, taking in her scent, her warmth.

She nods, melting into me. “I’m so sleepy.”

“Okay, baby. Text me when you wake up.”

49

Violet

I roll out of Killian’s bed at 11:35. I’m shocked I was able to fall asleep after he left.

The fireplace is still going. The bed feels ridiculously cozy. And I’m naked.

I’m naked and I’m smiling.

Wow.

WOW.

Okay, so, I don’t want to get freaked out too much at him wanting me to move my stuff here, obviously meaning he wants me to live here, but can’t help that it makes my heart race with panic.

But despite that, I feel like I’m floating. I float to the master bathroom and use the facilities and then I run a bath and soak in it. I float in hot bubbles with a huge smile on my face as I recall in delicious, vivid detail all the dirty things he can do with that mouth. Those fingers. And that gloriously thick, long, skilled part of him.

The sounds he makes when he’s coming. The attentiveness to me. The eye contact. How he makes me feel beautiful.

And then cuddling. Spooning. After he gets me a drink.

I soak for a good while, then I head into his shower to shampoo my hair. I find a bathrobe on the back of the door and decide to wear it.

It’s a soft, dark blue robe that drags along the floor with too-long sleeves as I float to the kitchen where I get coffee and sit down with a big smile on my face as I continue to think about him.

Eventually it hits me that I should check my phone. I get it from my room, noticing my car key is there but the rest of my keys are gone.

I bite my lip thinking about that, about a life with him, here, in this place. Permanently. Too soon to think that way. Isn’t it? I look around at the surroundings. Could this be my life? I’m not materialistic, but this home is beautiful. And Killian… Killian is something else. Something I lusted after for a hot minute three years ago. When I saw him on that third anniversary, I never imagined sleeping with him, never imagined feeling like this so fast.

And then my mind strays to Ray. Is he gone? Did he leave town? Is this really, truly over?

I text to Killian:

Good morning again
and then I return a missed call from Susanna who called just fifteen minutes earlier. It’s probably her lunch hour, so I dial and she answers on the first ring.

“Hey. Good. Hey. You’re not at work.” She sounds hyper.

“No.  I took a couple personal days,” I say, and I’m about to continue talking, but she cuts me off.

“So, I’m coming over after work so I can be there with you for the waiting game or whatever it’s gonna be. What if dickhead doesn’t come up with the cash? What then? Have you had the nerve to ask Killian? Because I’ve thought a lot about this and maybe it’s better that you don’t ask. I don’t wanna say too much over the phone because anyone could be listening, but maybe it’s better to never ask questions. All that matters is that the son of a bitch is out of your life for good, right? You don’t need to know how that happens, you-”

“Whoa. Hold up there, SusieQ. Can I talk for a second?”

“Violet, listen to me… the dickhead is poison. He might be better off put out of his misery, and face it, there’s a good chance that’s how he’ll eventually wind up. Face down in a gutter. So, whether it’s now or later – don’t ask, don’t tell. Okay?”

“It’s already over!” I blurt, loud, so she’ll stop talking for a second.

“It’s what?”

“He showed up at Killian’s club last night with the money.”

“He what?”

“Yep.”

“What? Money? Like… non-Monopoly money? Actual cheddah? How much was it?”

Susanna sounds baffled. And rightly so.

“I know; I don’t know where it came from, but that’s what happened. Fourteen g’s. It was weird and awful and also amazing, because I told him what I thought of him. He thought I was actually gonna go back home with him and pick up where we left off. Can you believe that shit?”

“Holy shit.”

“Right? And that’s not all…” I take a sip of my coffee.

“What? Tell me! What?”

I smile.

“What, Violet? What?”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Out with it, bestie, so help me…”

“I jumped Killian’s bones when we got back.”

Dead air for a second. I’m about to ask if she’s still there when I hear background noise.

“Sorry. I had to sit down. Keep talkin’,” she finally says.

“Then I tried to escape, thinking I was losing my-”

“You didn’t! Now I’m standing up again.”

“Only temporarily.  I came to my senses sometime between midnight and dawn.”

“Oh? Oh! Are you saying you spent the night with him?”

“I am.” My face splits into a smile.

“And?”

“And he wants it to be the beginning, not a one-off, so… it’s the beginning.” I’m smiling so wide. “And do you wanna come to Numbers for a fun night tomorrow night,” I add. “I’m gonna call a couple of the girls from work.”

“Not that and. And how was last night?” She sounds so annoyed with me.

I sigh heavily. “I’m on cloud nine,” I tell her. “Cloud ninety-nine.”

“He’s good in bed? I knew it. The way he walks, the way he carries himself, girl… I had a feeling. Please tell me he exceeds expectations.”

I sober. “Well…”

There’s dead silence on the other end of the line as she waits, but I can feel her deflating.

“I’m surprised I’m walking today. I should be on medical bedrest,” I whisper.

Susanna giggles and then sighs. “So it was good.”

“It was better than good. It was everything, Suse. It was intimacy, eye contact, feeling special, feeling like there was no one else he’d rather be with. And then…”

“And then?”

“Spooning.”

She makes a sound like she’s about to expire.

“I know!” I exclaim. “Twice last night and then again this morning before he left.”

“Girl, I’m a peanut butter ‘n jelly sandwich right now! Big and beautiful?”

“Oh yes, very. Suse, I’m telling you – he is amazing. I haven’t told you the half of how amazing he is because I’ve been-”

“On dat River de Nile?”

“Yeah.”

“Dickhead Dumbass Deathray broke you. Dreamboat’s fixing you,” she says.

“I gotta fix me, though. You know?”

“You will. I’ll help. He’ll help. Group effort.”

“I love you. I’m so sorry I let Ray get between us,” I say.

“I know. And I love you too. Let’s look forward, okay? Let’s make his name a swear word. But not an every day one. The name Ray is like the c-word … we only use that cuss when we absolutely need to.”

I cackle. “Gotcha.”

She laughs, too.

“You mean the world to me, Suse,” I tell her.

“Right back atcha babe. I gotta get back to work. Text me later. Or tomorrow. I’m totally in for tomorrow night. And I’m happy for you. So happy.”

“Perfect. And thank you.”

“Hey, you mind if I invite Brit? I want you to meet her.”

“Oh. Uh… okay,” I say.

“She’s great. You’ll love her. But hey… Violet?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my bestest bestie. You. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say again, and I know she heard the difference between the okays. I hear it myself; I certainly feel it.

She knows I feel guilty. And jealous.

We say our goodbyes and I get a text.

Killian: Good morning, beautiful. In the middle of something but I’ll call you soon.

I decide to do a group text chat with Cammy and Tara from work to ask them if they can come tomorrow night. I tell Cammy to invite Debbie.

Cammy adds Debbie to the chat and Debbie informs that she has a date, but says she’ll come to McHop’s, though adds she’ll have to skip Numbers. And it makes me wonder if that’s because of the bad blood between her and Killian. The other girls are in and Cammy wants to bring her cousin.

I text Killian telling him how many are coming to Numbers tomorrow, mentioning we can all pay our own way instead of getting special treatment and add no rush to get back to me, that I’m still lounging.

50

Killian

That old lady, Mrs. Catherine Shear, cleaned her account out of all but seven hundred dollars. She handed nineteen thousand bucks over to the man she thought was her son “Danny”.

Raymond hadn’t left Violet’s apartment as of twelve o’clock. When I logged in to check the camera feed, he was crashed on the couch. I looked back and surveillance showed him getting in after his trip to Genesis before he drank himself into a stupor in the dark, then he opened the window and whipped the empty bottle out, hitting Wes’s car, showing he knows he’s been tailed.

This was followed by ten minutes of him pacing and bawling like a fucking kid, regretting what he just did, and then whimpering like a toddler who had his toy taken away, and then the goof passed out cold on the couch. He rolled over and puked on the rug beside himself at five o’clock in the morning before passing back out.

I put Tino on Wes last night and he had someone watching the building to make sure Ray didn’t leave and also that he didn’t fuck with Wes. Wes clocked he’s being watched and acted insulted that I’m protecting him. I told him he can go, case closed, because this afternoon, Iadanza’s getting picked up by the cops.

I’m taking care of some business at twelve thirty when I get a text from my old friend Dario. We haven’t connected properly in quite a while; he couldn’t make it to the Numbers opening, but our friendship goes way back so it shouldn’t be surprised he wants me at his wedding.

“Hey Kill. Getting married next Saturday.  Really like it if you’d come. It’s a small wedding, but it’d mean a lot if you’d make the time. Invite will be couriered and should be there tomorrow.”

I reply to tell him I’m happy for him and I’d planned to be out of town, but I’ll absolutely be there. I used to be pretty jaded about the concept of marriage.

I’m finding that today I’m not feeling that way.

Funny how it goes. He was, too. Marriage sounds a lot different when it’s about spending your life with the person you feel is perfect for you.

A few minutes later, Violet texts me and tells me about the plan for Numbers. I’m sure Deb Pugliese will be one of the girls showing so I decide to reply to Dare again to say my girl has become friendly with his ex because they work in the same office building. I want him to know this before he has us at his wedding.

He phones me instead of replying by text and it’s like no time has passed. He asks me about my girl and I tell him about Violet. I tell him almost everything. The history, how I cornered Raymond Iadanza into owing me money, which he laughs about. And he gets me. He remembers Ray, though barely, and tells me he’d be torn, too about what to do about the Ray issue since Violet doesn’t want me to hurt him. Then he tells me not to worry about Violet being friends with Debbie, that nothing is going to put a cloud over his wedding day.  I tell him about the speech I overhead and he does not give any fucks about his ex. He’s in love.

He doesn’t say much about his new fiancée, but the sound of his voice as he tells me he’s found what he needs and gives no fucks about Debbie says it all.

I’m happy for him.

***

Things don’t go as smoothly with my afternoon as I’d hoped, so I send a text to Violet.

I’m running a little late. I’ll still be home to make pizza for us, but I need to know if you’re up for running to the supermarket to grab whatever we don’t have in the fridge for it. If you don’t wanna hit the store, we’ll order food in instead.

She replies immediately to say she’s happy to do that. She asks me what I like on my pizza and I tell her to surprise me. I list off a few ingredients that are must-haves for my sauce and I tell her which dough and cheese to buy. The rest is up to her.

She texts an hour later.

Violet: What about dessert?

Me: Whatever you buy for dessert, I plan to eat it off your body, so keep that in mind when you choose.

Violet: So… sticky is out.

Me: It probably doesn’t matter. Plan to get you sticky either way.

My texting activities are interrupted by Tino Rossi arriving in the restaurant I’m at, so I wipe off what feels like a goofy grin that’s typically not me and write one more text to Violet.

Gotta wrap my day up. Be home as soon as I can.

Violet: Ok.

Beside her OK she put a sideways lips emoji.

I couldn’t help myself; I watched her sleep for a bit this morning on my surveillance app. And then I caught part of her telephone conversation with Susanna.

It made me consider the fact that a lot of guys could use that as a tool to glean information from their women in order to know how to act in a relationship. And not gonna flex the macho card; it felt good to hear the things she said, to see the look on her face as she said those things. To see her wearing my robe. She’s into this in a big way and I am, too. It’s nice to know what page she’s on instead of wondering if shit is on the up and up. It makes me wish I’d put other women I’d dated under surveillance. It could’ve helped me waste less time on a fair few of them.

Then again, if I followed my grandmother’s philosophy, she told me every failed relationship was a lesson in what you didn’t want. If you can learn from it, it’s not a total waste.

And the way Violet has me feeling, I’m thinking I can take those cameras out.

She’s trustworthy.

Though, there is the security element to this that puts my mind at ease. Maybe I’ll leave the cameras in for the time being.

51

Violet

The beeping of Killian’s security system grabs my attention.

He’s got a frown as he approaches me at the kitchen counter. I’m chopping red onion.

“Hi!” I flash a smile.

His frown melts and then his mouth is on mine and my face is in his hands. The kiss, like all Killian’s kisses I’m learning, is hungry. I drop the knife on the cutting board and then I’m clutching his shirt as he lifts me up and puts my butt onto the opposite counter.

“Keep that alarm armed when you’re home, baby, especially if I’m not here,” he says against my lips.

“Oh. Woops. I forgot,” I say against his mouth. “Sorry if I taste bad. I’ve been sampling the toppings.”

“You taste great,” he tells me and kisses me again.

“I ate some raw onion by mistake,” I tell him, crinkling my nose. ”It was hiding under an orange pepper.”

“Don’t care,” he kisses me again and then backs up, takes a piece of onion and then pops it into his mouth. “There. Now I taste like onions, too.” He kisses me again and I giggle as he lifts me off the counter and stands me on my feet.

“You didn’t turn the oven on?” he asks, staring at the dark oven.

My belly drops and I cover my mouth. “Oh damn. I forgot.”

My heart is suddenly stampeding in my chest.  He messaged me and asked me to turn it on to five hundred at a specific time, saying the oven needed to preheat for an hour with the pizza stone in it. I got sidetracked chopping toppings and completely forgot.

He turns the oven to five hundred degrees, opens a drawer and lifts out the large tile he told me about and slides it into the oven. He turns his back to the oven and surveys all the ingredients I’ve got out in piles on the wooden cutting board.

“Did I buy enough cheese?” I ask, feeling my heart slow down. Ray would’ve flipped if I’d screwed dinner up by an hour. Totally flipped.  Killian doesn’t seem to care that much.

My body is in flight mode. I try to will my heart to slow down.

He flexes his jaw and looks at the large bag of shredded pizza mozzarella. “Okay, I shoulda said… don’t buy pre-grated cheese for pizza. It has to be grated just before we use it.”

My heart drops again.

“Whatever,” he waves his hand. “This won’t be my best work. Just know that.”

I chuckle nervously. “Oh. Oh-k-kay.”

“No. For real, Violet. My old boss, Mr. V would’ve skinned me alive if he caught me taking this shortcut.”

My shoulders relax. “It’s a time saver. And cheese graters are a manicure killer,” I advise.

He snickers. “Guess I’m the cheese grater in this relationship, then. I can deal with that.” He shrugs.

My heart flares. Relationship. I’m in a relationship with Killian Coulter. It’s gonna take a while to get used to this reality, as is getting accustomed to not feeling like I’m on alert all the time.

How long until I react like a normal person again?

“I gotta get the sauce together.” He throws his suit jacket to the couch and then he’s back, rolling his sleeves.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks.

I manage to follow his eyes despite that I think my heart has stopped. “What?”

What did I do now to screw up this dinner?

He turns the tap on and soaps up his hands.

“Pineapple?” He looks at the chopped fresh pineapple in the pile beside the diced peppers.

“Yeah,” I smile, thinking here we go. People either love pineapple on pizza or find the thought abhorrent. It’s never really in the middle, from my experience. And I love it.

He shakes his head. “Fuck. And here I thought you were perfect. Fruit doesn’t go on pizza, baby.”

I gasp in mock horror and then pop a chunk in my mouth. “Mm.”

I then hold a piece out and offer it to him. He winks and accepts it by playfully biting my finger as he takes it.

“See? It’s good.”

“Good on its own, good in a fruit salad or an upside-down cake, but not on a fuckin’ pizza.”

“Fine. Just put it on half,” I offer with a shrug.

He makes a face of distaste and then pulls out a pot and opens the jar of strained San Marzano tomatoes I picked up.

“And technically…” I inform, “Bell peppers are a fruit and so are tomatoes, so your fruit argument does not hold water.”

The left side of his mouth goes up and he gives me a shake of his head. “Pour us some wine, baby?” He lifts a knife and runs it through a pile of fresh herbs on the chopping board.

“Of course. How was your day?” I ask, wandering over to the wall of wine.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to be here with you,” he tells me, reaching into the fridge for the tube of minced garlic.

I bite my lip and smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Your mail will be here tomorrow. And all your photo albums,” he adds, casually. “He’s been arrested.”

I nearly drop the bottle of wine in my hand. “What?”

“He fleeced the old lady in your building for that money. That was the biggest chunk of my day... dealing with that.”

I jolt in surprise.

“He told the cops she gave it to him as a gift, but we’ll see what happens. She thinks he’s her son who died fifteen years ago. She came out while he was being arrested and the cops saw themselves what her state of mind is with him. Obviously, he took advantage of that. He’s in jail right now at least.”

Wow. I’m shocked.

I knew there was no way he came by that money in a way that was honest, but poor Mrs. Shear.

“Cleaned all but seven hundred bucks out of her account. What he owed me and five g’s besides.”

“Poor Mrs. Shear.”

“She’ll get her money back,” he says.

“How?” I ask.

He gives me a look. “You think I’m gonna keep that money he stole from her? You don’t think much of me, Violet?”

“No, not… no. Ray owed you that money,” I say.

“I don’t want it when he stole it from an old lady with dementia, Violet. I can stand to lose it a fuckuva lot easier than she can.”

“Of course,” I say. “Sorry. I’m just… wow.”

I swallow hard. I’m relieved and sick to my stomach in equal measure. I’m relieved he won’t get away with it. Holy! The depths he sank to. I gave three years of my life to a guy that would do that? I gave everything to that guy. I gave him more than I had, so much that I lost myself.

And that Killian would not keep the money? That says a lot. And if I’m honest, if he did decide to keep it, it would’ve probably messed with me once I thought about it. It would speak volumes about his character. I’m glad that he’s not keeping it, though I hate that he’s out all that money.

“I want to pay you that money,” I blurt. “Even if it takes time for me to do it, I’ll-”

He shakes his head. “I’m not worried about it.”

“You can’t exactly hand it to the cops, right? Not without getting asked a whole lot of questions…”

“Sure I can. If I hand it to the cops and say he fucked me over for money working for me. I have an employment contract that he signed, Violet. And then he broke it and fucked off.”

I blink in surprise.

“I’m not runnin’ some mickey mouse operation, baby. He signed that contract.”

“My name wouldn’t come up? The… uh… marker arrangement?”

“That shit stain is stupid but let’s hope he’s not that stupid. If he is, we’ll deal with the stupidity then. But I probably won’t fork that cash over to the cops unless he does show that stupidity. It’ll get tied up with court and mean a lot of questions. I’ll find another way to make sure she’s okay. I already had a conversation with your super. Oh. And remember the gun he got his hands on?”

“Yeah.”

“He pawned that old lady’s diamond ring. That’s on security camera at the pawn shop. My private eye got that yesterday. Lots of shit stacking up against him.”

“Whoa. And wait, my superintendent?”

“Leave it to me,” he says. “Don’t want you worrying about any of it. Just know he’s not gettin’ into that apartment even if he somehow magically makes bail or gets away with this. Your super won’t let him in and if he’s spotted on cameras, he’ll be escorted off the property.”

“I’d really like to pay you back that money,” I whisper.

“Say that one more time and your ass is getting spanked. Forget that money, Violet.”

52

Killian

I was never worried about that money. It was a cost of doing business. That business being me making Violet my business. Though I’m not about to say that and cloud the waters here.

She goes quiet as I stretch the dough, staring at my hands, but I can see she’s somewhere else.

“Alana texted as I was coming up in the elevator. It’s her who’s over there packing up your pictures and some of your other stuff, so you know. I didn’t send just anyone in there.”

“Okay,” she says softly, worrying her lip with her teeth.

I can’t get a read on her right now.

“Wanna turn the stereo on?” I ask.

She nods and does that. And then she watches, fascinated as I finish stretching the dough and form it into a circle. After I spread sauce over it, she hops down off the stool and rounds the counter to help me put on the other toppings. She looks like she’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders, though, and now I’m wishing I hadn’t bothered to tell her he’s in jail.

I sat in my car across the street from the building and smiled at him as he was taken away in cuffs.

He saw me. And he looked like he was shitting his pants.

And he’s gotta know now, that he was dead wrong when he thought he got away with the shit he pulled with me.

Coming to her work when I told him to stay away. Showing up at my club with a gun.

With Raymond Iadanza, I didn’t even need to get all that creative. The stupid fuck did all this to himself.

The old lady was out there calling, “Danny? Danny, what did you do? I’ll bail you out, Danny. He’s a good boy, officer, it must be a mistake.”

Wes told me he found a niece of the old lady who’s gonna step in and help her get things sorted. I talked to her on the phone, and he’ll be meeting her tomorrow on my behalf.

“You put that shit on your half. There’s the line.” I point. “Do not cross it. I ain’t havin’ no part of that blasphemy,” I grumble, and this earns me dimples from her and a giggle as she places chunks of pineapple on one half of the pizza, going right up to the invisible boundary line I drew.

I kiss her and steal her last piece of pineapple from her fingers before it touches down on top of the pie.

“Hey!” She’s fake-outraged.

I kiss her breathless and then pop the pie in the oven.

“It didn’t preheat a whole hour,” she says.

“I know. It’s all right. It’s got shortcut cheese, a premade dough, and fuckin’ pineapple on it so it won’t be a masterpiece, but I’m starved.”

An hour later, we’re on the couch with the rest of the pizza on the coffee table while we watch a movie she put on that’s kind of idiotic, but she laughs her ass off and I can’t help but find her laughter infectious.

She ate three slices of pizza and moaned as she ate, telling me how good it was.

What matters most to me is that she’s not thinking about him. She’s not worrying about him sitting in a cell or about her apartment. She’s here with me, eating food we made together in that kitchen that I now know was picked for her. A kitchen I want to fuck her in.

I take her feet into my lap and give her a foot rub as we continue watching stupidity that I really don’t mind enduring because it makes her smile and laugh so much.

She moans at the foot rub and those moans make my cock harden.

As the credits finally roll, she gets up to take the leftovers into the kitchen, and I follow her in there.

I watch Violet wipe down the counters, thinking about the fact that I’m not done with Iadanza yet, either. I have connections inside. His life behind bars is gonna be no fuckin’ cake walk.

If he doesn’t go down, I’ll find some other way to make sure that a) he pays for fucking her over for all that time and b) that he never fucks with her again.

She made it clear she doesn’t want violence, and I don’t like it but will do my best to respect her wishes.

That said, all this doesn’t mean I’m done with him.

53

Violet

I’m at the kitchen counter, putting leftover sauce into a container when I feel warm hands slide up inside the front of my shirt over my belly. I look down and smile. Killian’s heat is at my back. His hands move up to cup my breasts while he takes my earlobe between his teeth and grinds into my backside.

Eyes drifting shut, my head drops back as I absorb the feel of his fingers slipping into my bra and yanking the cups down. I shiver as he suckles my earlobe and then releases it and nips my throat playfully. He’s hard and I’m ready to help him with that.

I draw in air and then blow out slowly before setting the ladle down and gripping the counter with both hands. I rotate my hips slowly in a figure eight, undulating against him.

Letting out a sexy growl while his right hand slides into the front of my jeans, his fingers walk their way down into my panties where he finds me slippery. Ready. Very ready.

“Mm,” he rumbles appreciatively against my throat. “I wanna fuck you in this kitchen, then I wanna fuck you in your bed. Thought about fucking you in that bed every night the past fifteen nights.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “I thought about you fucking me in that bed, too.”

“You touch yourself while you think about me?” he asks, tonguing my earlobe.

I jolt tight. And then I chortle. “That’s a blunt question.”

“You did,” he murmurs. “Didn’t you?”

I shiver.

“I fucked my fist in my shower every day the last two weeks thinking about you,” he tells me in that sexy, husky voice.

Wow. That’s hot.

I shiver again and he laughs low. It’s clear he likes that he draws that reaction from me.

“Gonna fuck you hard in that bed,” he confirms. “And then your room becomes the guest room, because you’re gonna be down the hall in my bed.”

Holy smokes.

“Killian…”

“Gonna fuck you here,” he says, grinding against me again and pushing a finger inside me. He crooks it and hits my g-spot.

A rush of air leaves my mouth with a whimper.

“Killian,” I say again, and this time, he doesn’t ignore the tone or the fact that I’m trembling. His hand leaves my pants as he turns me around.

I’m trying to clear my expression as I turn, but he notices.

“Talk to me,” he requests, eyes soft.

I bite my lip. “That’s fast. Really fast. I’m not sure we should move that quickly.”

“I don’t care,” he tells me and the heat in his eyes is hot enough I can feel it.

His hand wraps around my lower back and he puts his lips to mine for a brief kiss. “Don’t care a bit how fast it seems,” he says. “This past two weeks has felt like a year.”

I wince.

“Okay, let me back up,” he says. “I care what you think. I do. I just don’t wanna go slow. I feel like the past two weeks has taken forever. Life is short, baby.”

I blow out a breath.

He kisses me again and whispers against my mouth, “Soon we’ll talk him out of our systems, and he’ll be a blip in the history books. That’s all.”

God, that’ll be nice.

“Barely a blip,” he adds, squeezing my shoulders, “Because I already know, this fast, that I want a future with you. It’s not playing it cool by laying that on the line, but you’ll learn pretty quick that when I say I mean something, I give no fucks. I know what I want. I want you, Violet. I knew that the night I met you and I felt it in my gut that night in your apartment when I came back with him.”

“It’s easy to think that way right now with things being as crazy as they’ve been, but we really should take things a little slower and-”

“No fucking way,” he snaps, and I jolt back, but there’s nowhere to go. “I’m gonna find a way to undo the bullshit he did to you. I know that doesn’t sound realistic but watch me try.”

My heart races. He keeps ranting.

“You’re no longer in limbo as you called it with him, don’t wait to be happy. Life’s too short, Violet. Look what he took already; don’t let him take more by being guarded with me. Shed his bullshit like an old skin.”

His face then changes and he leans in. “Hey? I’m not likin’ that you’re shaking. You shouldn’t be afraid of me, Violet. Ever.”

I’m breathing hard. He tags my hand and directs me to the couch. We sit and I catch my breath.

“You scared of me?” he asks.

I shake my head and will my body to stop trembling.

“Sorry. You just got amped there and I just flipped out a little.”

“I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Violet. Never will I use those intimidation tactics you told me he used. That’s not what I was doing. I just mean what I say. I felt strong about what I was saying and maybe you mistook that.”

“I know,” I say, grabbing his hand.

His face is filled with remorse. I know he wasn’t trying to scare me.

“I’m sorry, Killian. It’s The Ray Effect. I’m feeling like I’ve still got PTSD from being with him.”

“You’re no longer with him. You’re mine now, Violet. That means it’s time for The Killian Effect.”

I snicker.

He’s serious. He doesn’t crack a smile.

I moisten my lips. “What does that look like?”

His harsh expression melts into a smile that makes my heart skip a beat. He drops a sweet kiss on my hand before pulling me onto his lap. “Dimples.”

I smile, shyly.

He pokes my cheek. “Like those. And orgasms. Smiles. Happy Violet. Even happier Killian.”

“Stunning orgasms?” I ask.

His eyes light up playfully. “Like you won’t believe…”

“I already don’t believe…”

“Then let me show you,” he leans in and kisses me.

And things quickly get heated as his mouth moves over mine, as his sounds and touch excite me. I pull back to catch a breath.

“But is warp speed necessary? This is hard to explain, but I’ve been through what feels like a war or time served in a prison. I need to figure out who I am now. I’m changed. And I’ve been dying to just have time to figure out who I am now.”

“So what are you saying?” He props his elbow on the back of the couch and rests his cheek on his palm.

The look on his face has my heart feeling like it’s caving in.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you. You came out of the blue, unexpectedly. Like a hero.” I’m feeling emotional. My chin wobbles. “You’re like an answered prayer, a wish blown on a dandelion coming true. But I’m a little scared.”

His eyes flash with something I don’t think I’ve ever seen. It just about knocks me over. “Nothing to be scared about,” he says gently. “I’ll slay all the monsters, Violet. Every one of them. You might say we can’t see the future but I’ve gotta tell you, I feel like I can. I feel like it’s you and me, all the way.”

Oh my God. This guy truly is a dream come true.

“I don’t wanna fuck it up because of how fucked up I am.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got all the patience in the world for you, for what you’ve been through. Could’ve been us three years ago, all this time. Let’s not waste more time.”

I blow out a long breath. “I don’t wanna be fucked up, afraid, I wanna find my voice again, Killian. I just wanna make sure I don’t screw up with you by us taking things too fast. I wanna maybe get a little bit of counseling. Take things slow, so I fix myself instead of jumping in with you and going too fast and doing this the wrong way. I lost myself with him and I don’t want to be lost anymore.”

“Do you, okay, baby? I’m here. I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t wanna wait. I’ve already lost three years and I don’t wanna play games with this. I want you to know where I’m at.”

I smile and put my hand to his cheek. “I know you’re not him. I just need you to be a little bit patient with me.”

“I can do that. Don’t go back to that apartment, though. I don’t want you there. Don’t want you in that place that felt like a jail cell for all that time with him. You’re not ready to move in with me right away, let’s get you another place. We’ll take it slow if you really need that, but just don’t go back there. It’ll keep me up at night thinking of you being in that place with those memories. I want you to be able to forget all the bad shit as soon as you can. That way, it’s you and me movin’ forward, whatever the pace, but just you and me. Not you haunted by memories of him.”

I nod. “Let’s take it a day at a time right now, okay? I won’t go back there, but I can’t promise I’m ready to fully move in yet. Maybe I can move in with Susanna temporarily, or…”

His face has dropped. And I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I change tact.

“Let’s talk about it at the end of the weekend. How about that? We don’t have to figure everything out immediately, do we?”

“Okay, baby. I don’t want you to feel pressured. But I also don’t want you to wonder where you stand with me.”

I nod. “I appreciate that.”

He leans in and kisses me. “Can I fuck you in that bed now? Or do you want it in the kitchen first?”

I bite my lip and nod slowly. “Bed.”

He lifts me up and carries me into the mouth of the hall and then pushes the door open.

My eyes land on the Make a Wish art on the wall and I smile.

My wishes are absolutely coming true these days. And it feels amazing. But terrifying. I’m going to try to live in the moment here. After all the sadness, I want to let myself feel a little bit of happiness.

“I’ll fuck you in the kitchen in the morning,” he adds.

I bust up laughing.

“No. You don’t know how monumental that is, Dimples. The kitchen-fucking thing is important. On second thought, maybe I’ll wait until you’ve officially moved in.”

I laugh. “What if I want the kitchen sex sooner?”

He gives me a devious look. “No, it’s decided. You want that counter sex, you move in officially.”

I fake-pout, badly because I’m unable to stop myself from grinning. “That’s no fair.”

“Sure it is.”

“If I eventually officially move in, this photo needs to go either to your bedroom or another prominent place in this apartment.” I gesture at the dandelion art on the wall.

“Yeah? You like it that much?”

“I really do. I wanna see it daily.” I look up at his face and he’s smiling at me. His smile is so beautiful, so pure, I almost want to agree right now to move in officially.

And then his smile changes as he puts me on my back and crawls up, taking his shirt off on the way.

I take my own shirt off as he unbuttons my jeans and then pushes them down. I arch my back to help, and this results in him kissing between my breasts and then reaching back to undo my bra. I fall back onto the pillows as my jeans are pulled the rest of the way off and then he drops everything he’s got on below the waist while kicking off his shoes and socks.

My underwear are the last article of clothing to go as he hooks into them with both thumbs and shimmies them down my legs and off.

“Fuck. Condom. I’ll go get one.”

“I’m covered for birth control,” I tell him.

He freezes.

“Should get tested before we go there,” he says.

And it’s like cold water thrown on my libido.

“Because he might’ve cheated,” I whisper.

It never occurred to me that he might have. But what do I know?

Regret slashes across his face. “And me. I’ll get tested too. It’s not just about you, baby. It’s just responsible for the both of us to do in this day and age.”

I nod but there’s a lump in my chest. “Debbie heard you don’t ever go where your friends have been. Do you think I’m…”

“I never did before, no, she’s right about that, but fuck.” He looks angry. And my heart is racing. “Did I put my mouth on you last night? This morning?” he demands.

I jerk in surprise.

“My mouth on you, me in your mouth, Violet. I think nothing when I’m fucking you except that I’m fucking you, that you’re with me, giving me access to your beautiful body. When I’m fucking you, he does not factor and he won’t. It’s just responsible for both of us to be careful until we get tested.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’m sorry to ruin the mood.”

“Who says my mood is ruined?” he asks. “Right back.”

He leaves, naked, and then returns a minute later, rolling the condom on as he approaches the bed.

“I hate that there’s drama already in this thing with us just a day into it because of Ray. I didn’t mean to make it about him. I don’t want him to be this ugly thing between us, but-”

“What drama? And he won’t be. He fucking won’t be if you stop saying his name while I’m ready to fuck you.”

He stands there and puts his arms across his chest.

“Shit. Sorry.” I grab my cheeks and shoot him a remorseful expression.

He shakes his head as he crawls up from the bottom of the bed, then grabs my ankle and I fall to my back again. He pulls me down under his naked body and then his mouth comes down and collides with mine.

He kisses me with what feels like anger.

“Don’t be mad. If you’re mad, we should stop.”

“Are you asking me to stop?” He looks down at me.

I shake my head.

“I’m just kissing you, so you stop saying shit to make me mad.”

I gasp in shock and then I laugh.

He smirks and quirks his eyebrows up. “That all right with you?”

“It seems like a great way to shut me up,” I tell him.

His annoyance melts away.

“Okay. Kiss me again then. Don’t stop kissing me.”

“Iadanza doesn’t come between us, Violet. Especially when I’m touching you. Okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. It’s not your fault. None of that is.”

He grinds his teeth.

“God, I’m such a screw up. Now I’m crying.”

“I don’t ever wanna make you cry,” he tells me.

I nod, smiling. “Happy tears. For you. You’ve been amazing, Killian.”

“I don’t mind giving you those kinds of tears, beautiful, but not right when I wanna be fucking you. Tears are kinda a boner killer for me.”

“Boner?” I roll my eyes.

He gives me a stern look.  “You on a quest to not get lucky tonight, Dimples?”

“Okay, I’ll stop talking. Kissing me might help.”

His mouth comes to mine and I’m on the verge of an ugly-cry, because how come he’s so perfect? How did this happen? Two weeks ago I was in the depths of despair.

He’s lifted me out of that awful place, taken me up high in the sky into this beautiful apartment and treated me like a princess.

What did I do to deserve this?

Is karma apologizing to me right now for what I endured with Ray and now I’m getting rewarded for all that?

I have no idea.

All I know is that Killian is touching me like I’m a prize he’s not just won, that I’m someone he prayed he’d get to win. He’s looking at me like he wants me, making me feel like a new version of who I used to be. He’s helping me sand away the veneer of ugliness that built up on me while Ray hurt me again and again.

I don’t wanna move too fast and screw this up. I also don’t wanna push him away and screw this up.

I need Susanna. I need girlfriend time. I’m glad I’m getting that tomorrow.

I’m under him, things are hot and heavy as he puts his mouth on my breast and kisses his way up to my lips, as he wraps my leg around his hip and then locks eyes with me as he slowly slides in. A muscle jumps in his cheek and then his lips part as pleasure envelopes his face.

“Lookin’ forward to this after we get tested, baby,” he says.

I nod. “I’ll do it as soon as possible.”

“I will too. Can’t wait.”

I cup his jaw in both hands and pull his mouth toward mine.

And then he rolls and I’m on top. He pulls both my knees tight to his side and orders, “Ride me, Violet.” He then lets go of my legs to grab my boobs.

A whimper escapes my lips as I adjust to the depth, at how this feels – so deep, so full. Killian’s hand drifts down my boob, whispering its way across my ribcage until his thumb is between us, toying with me as I rock back and forth with him inside me.

This feels incredible.

“Do the thing,” he whispers.

“Hm?” I ask. “The thing?”

“Make your pussy squeeze me.”

Tingles spread through me at his dirty-talk.

I tighten around him and the sound he makes – it encourages me to do it again. And again. I squeeze around him as I rock, as his fingers pick up pace. I grab the top of his headboard for better leverage. Once I have hold of it, I rock with more force onto his cock, against his fingers, watching how he looks at me, how his chest rises and falls with his breathing, how his throat moves as he swallows, the way his neck muscles strain as he loses himself to the sensations he’s getting from me. My breathing pace quickens, and I’m fast-tumbling over the edge toward an orgasm, my head lolling back and my eyes losing focus.

“Come, baby. I wanna see it, though. Look in my eyes when you do,” he orders.

I look down at his face and it’s a beautiful sight to behold as I fall over that cliff into a blissful state of euphoria. His eyes scorch me, his touch owns me.

Before I’ve come all the way to the other side of it, he’s turning me to my back so he can power into me over and over, staring into my eyes, holding my face. I wrap my legs around his middle and cry out a garbled version of his name as my orgasm turns into a second one, a deeper one because as he spills into me, eyes on mine, mouth just inches away, he grunts my name and then collapses onto me, face buried beside my ear.

My heart is beating so hard it feels like it might explode out of my chest.

I breathe, like I’ve been running for my life. I try to catch my breath and stop myself from bursting into tears again because sex has never been this good, never been this intimate. I’ve never felt so seen, so wanted before.

“Apple juice?” he asks, his voice a rumbly murmur into my ear.

I nod. “That sounds amazing. I think you killed me. Apple juice might bring me back. Maybe.”

“You look alive and well to me,” he tells me.

“Killed me,” I whisper. “Kill killed me with his killer. That’s what I’m gonna name it. Killer.”

“Please tell me you’re not naming my dick Killer.”

I nod and rasp out, “Apple juice. Hurry. Revive me so I can think of a better name.”

He kisses my shoulder as he rolls away from me to go deal with the condom and get me a drink. He looks over his shoulder on the way though and the smile on his face, the amusement and affection in his eyes? Gosh… I’m falling for this guy hard and fast.

54

Violet

“Yep,” I tell Susanna. “I have no idea what’ll happen from there, but eight boxes of my stuff got dropped off at Killian’s apartment, so I have almost everything except my kitchen stuff and my furniture.”

We’re in a booth at McHop’s.

“You should definitely move in with him.”

I take a long draw on my straw and I’m shaking my head as I swallow.

“No, what I should do is move in with you, date him for six months, and then maybe move in with him.”

“Nope,” she tells me, then bites into a pretzel.

My coworkers, their friends, and Susanna’s friend Brit haven’t arrived yet. We decided to meet an hour early, just us, so I could catch her up on some stuff and get some perspective.

She’s been super supportive – of Killian’s efforts to have me move in. Not at all supportive of my fishing for confirmation I should go slow.

A tall blonde heads for us and I recognize her as Brit from Susanna’s social media. She has the face of a model, has to be six feet tall, and she’s built like a personal trainer. She’s beautiful and I’m feeling intimidated.

Half an hour later, I’m feeling a bit better because we’re all a little tipsy, Brit is bubbly and hilarious. But she’s now ganging up on me with Susanna in trying to convince me to move in with Killian and claim then fill that empty half of a giant luxury walk-in closet I’ve told them about.

Brit also tells me I should get pregnant immediately and get that hunk to put a ring on it.

“I showed her pictures of you two from that new club of his and filled her in about the dickhead. The basics,” Susanna says, letting me know she didn’t reveal anything too personal.

“Get yourself in there, girl. He is super-fine. And rich. And Susanna said he helped you get away from a scuzzy ex that gave you a bunch of crap the last couple years.  This guy sounds like a knight. A knight who swooped in to help you and started falling for you right away. If you leave that penthouse without him asking you to, you are craycray. When are you having us over to see it?”

“Um… I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Girls’ night in. ASAP,” Susanna adds.

Tara, Cammy, Debbie, and another girl who I guess by the family resemblance must be Cammy’s cousin Esther approach the table.

And our night is off to a running start when Brit orders a round of shooters.

They’re all giddy when I explain that we’re being picked up by a driver, taken to Numbers, and that the whole night is on Killian. Players’ cards, dinner, drinks, and of course everyone will get a ride home.

I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted that he wanted to do this for me – give me a fun night to celebrate with my friends.

“You’ll be the one getting a ride, though, at the end of the night, won’t you?” Cammy elbows me in the side, winking exaggeratedly.

I told them in the text that I broke up with my ex and that I was now seeing Killian and got all sorts of emojis and squees from Cammy.

Deb replied with a giant eggplant picture and a question mark.

I replied with “100/10, would definitely recommend.”

That got LOLs and laughing emojis all around.

“You sure you can’t come to Numbers, Deb?” Tara asks.

She shakes her head. “One drink and I’m meeting my new beau for dinner.”

“Or you’re avoiding Killian because you think he doesn’t want you there. He really doesn’t mind,” I throw in.

She shakes her head. “Earlier this week, me, Tara, and Cam were at the park at lunch and we saw her. Dario’s new girl. The fact that I’m even here and not in bed eating my feelings says a lot, believe me. I’m not interested in seeing Kill and feeling my nose get more rubbed into it,” she says.

“I have other news, related news,” I tell her.

She stares me dead in the eye.

“They’re getting married next weekend. Killian got invited, so I’m gonna be there.”

Her eyes are dead. Not a flinch of emotion. Deb is a tough girl and I suspect her showing weakness would be an extremely rare occurrence, probably not something she’d do in front of a bunch of girls. Only alone, where no one could see.

“I need another shooter. A double,” Debbie says without her face changing.

I wave at the bartender.

“I had to tell you. I’m not the kind of person who likes to keep secrets from my friends.”

She nods and swallows. “I need a drink and then I’m stepping out for a smoke.”

“Hurry!” Cammy shouts at the bartender. “I’ll go get ‘em,” she adds and dashes that way.

The bartender, Corey, the one who flirted with me a few weeks ago comes over with a drink tray, smiling at me.

I smile in a friendly way but look away quickly. I don’t want to give anyone any mixed signals.

***

Cammy and Esther are climbing into the car in fits of giggles. We’ve had a lot of fun tonight at Numbers.

Tara and Brit hug me next and climb in as well.

Susanna gets in last, blowing a kiss at Killian, who is standing behind me. He wraps his arm around me and I lean back, happy, feeling like I’m glowing.

My friends are all smitten with him. And this makes me happy.

I cuddle into him and wave bye to them all.

When we arrived, we were fed drinks and food and then given players cards to do the video games, which was a hoot. We then bowled two games and when we went up to the bar for karaoke. Brit, Tara, and Esther did not waste any time getting up there to do a Spice Girls number.

Killian showed up while me and Susanna did the Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow Picture duet. He showed up right in the middle of the song and me doing the Kid Rock part. We always did this song at Karaoke bars and it took us a few minutes tonight to figure out whose turn it was to do Sheryl’s part.

And I’m drunk. I’m the world’s worst singer, though, drunk or sober, and my first instinct was to hide under a rock when Killian stepped into view, but I managed to keep going, though I turned my back to him.

“Good night, ladies,” Killian says, leaning into the limo.

“You’re awesome, Killian Coulter,” Cammy says. “And you have a kickass name, too.”

“Thank youuuu,” Esther and Tara sing out together.

“Take good care of my girl, tonight,” Susanna advises. “She needs to drink water before she goes to sleep. And take Ibuprofen.”

“Gotcha,” Kill says.

“Thanks. Great night!” I hear Brit tell him.

I’m shivering. It’s definitely getting colder out. It feels like it’s going to snow.

And I’m feeling just a little sobered up from the fresh air.

Killian leads me to his SUV and opens the door for me.

I stumble a little getting in and giggle.

He lifts me up and puts me in, a smile on his face.

“You okay, there, songbird?”

I nod. “Way more than okay. Take me to your place and hurry, Killian; I really wanna have dirty, drunk sex.”

His eyes go wide. “Dirty, drunk sex?”

I giggle.

“Dirty?” he repeats, looking very intrigued.

It’s been such a great night. His meeting started after closing, so me and the girls had drinks and snacks up in his office, looking down over the whole place. They were uber impressed.

I nod. “Yup. Dirty as we can get. Let’s hurry.”

He jogs around to his door, making me laugh, and then we squeal and fishtail out of there.

I’m laughing my head off while he drives like Mario Andretti.

When Ray drove fast, it scared me. That’s another thing he’d do – drive fast when we were arguing, like scaring me would mean he’d win the argument. And it worked.

Killian driving fast? I’m fine. Not triggered at all because I feel so safe with him.

“You’re so handsome,” I tell him. Touching his hair.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, smiling.

“Like, movie star handsome,” I say.

“Glad you like what you see. Believe me, I feel the same about you.”

“And I can’t believe you like me. I’m feeling like I’m dating way above my caste.”

He shakes his head. “Not remotely. You’re a fuckin’ knockout. You make my dick hard, Violet. Even when you sing. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

I bark out a laugh.  “Do you give my singing two thumbs down?”

“Naw. I’m glad you had a good time tonight. And that confidence was sexy, until you spotted me and tried to hide. Then it was cute.”

“I had a great time tonight. Celebrating. Celebrating what might’ve been my newfound freedom, but better. Because I’m not just free of those shackles, I’ve got you. And you’re … you’re great.”

“I got shackles for you too, Dimples.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “If you want the drunk sex to be extra dirty.”

My mouth drops. “Don’t think I forgot about you bein’ into kinky stuff. Deb said that day she heard that girl in the pedicure chair say you were way too kinky for her. How kinky are you?”

We stop at a red light.

He laugh, but he’s scratching his eyebrow thoughtfully. ”Depends on the girl. Some girls make me wanna be extra kinky.”

“What girls?” I narrow my eyes.

“You. Plannin’ to get extra dirty with you. Breakin’ you into my kinda kink slow. Are you worried I’m too kinky for you?”

“Not likely.”

“Good to know,” he says.

“Like, kinky sex in the kitchen? With food ‘n stuff?”

“That’s one possibility,” he says, looking deep in thought.

“And sex toys? Bondage?” I ask.

He smiles wide. “Yeah. That’s fun, too.”

“I’m down,” I tell him. “Take me to your lair, cuff me to the ‘frigerator, and do me there. Have at me while you feed me pineapple pizza.”

He laughs. “That’s a shade too kinky.”

I laugh harder.

“You’re cute when you’re loaded, baby.”

“I’m happy,” I tell him with a big smile.

“Good. My goal is to keep those dimples on your cheeks.”

“My goal? To get your dick hard every day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep,” I reply.

“Relationship goals are good to have,” he says and parks the car.

Oh. We’re here.

I unbuckle my belt.

He comes around and as I’m hopping down, he grabs my ass. “You wait for me to open your door unless I’m dropping you at a curb, which is probably only happening when you go to work.”

“Okay. If I don’t, you’ll grab my butt like this?”

He looks down at me with a dark expression that has my heart pumping a little faster. “You the type who plans to be naughty to get my attention?”

“Mayyybe. If it’s something you like, of course… I wanna make your cock hard, not your life hard.”

He moves me sideways, closes the door and then puts me against the door.

Oh. What?

“And I want you to mess up my lipstick, not my mascara.”

He smiles. “What if I wanna mess up both?”

“You said you didn’t wanna make me cry.”

“I don’t. I have other ways of messing up your mascara, Violet.”

I purse my lips, deep in thought.

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration, I think.”

His hand slides up inside my dress, slipping into the back of my panties.

I’m wearing a black dress tonight. A sexy one that he bought me on that first shopping trip. With silver strappy shoes, also bought by him.

“Oh!” I gasp, surprised. There’s no one here, but this feels very naughty. I decide to tell him so.

“Mm,” he kisses my throat and leans into me and I feel the evidence of how the naughtiness has affected him.

“Killer’s awake,” I muse.

“Mm hm.”

“Are there any cameras down here?”

“Not in this corner.”

“You said underground garages have cameras everywhere.”

“Not this corner. Trust me?”

I bite my lip and reach for his erection.

We’re sandwiched between his SUV and a concrete wall. If anyone comes in, I’m pretty sure we’ll hear them before they see us. And we’re well-camouflaged.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He’s got a condom. Oh wow. We’re actually going to have sex in the underground parking garage. My eyes boing halfway out of their sockets. And it’s a good thing I’m drunk and riding the high of the past two days because I am so down for this.

A minute later, he’s gloved and fucking me against his car door. I’m not touching the ground; my legs are wrapped around him, and I’m trying to be quiet, using his shoulder to muffle my sounds, because a) This is hot, b) He feels good, c) I get louder when I’m tipsy during sex d) He’s rubbing my clit while he fucks me against the side of his car and f) What’s not hot about that?

Oh, I forgot e. Whatever.

I come, crying into his throat.

He coos at me, “Yeah, baby, fuck, you like that?”

“Oh yeah, I do,” I tell him and clamp tighter around him. He lets go of my clit and pounds his hips against mine. He does it so hard, I feel the side of his car buckle under the pressure.

Oh my God. We’re denting his expensive SUV.

Right as he roars out an orgasm, which sort of echoes in here, I hear a car coming.

“Eek,” I squeak and try to shrink into nothing.

He sets me on my feet, rights the back of my dress, and pulls the condom off, ties it in a knot, and sticks it into his pocket. He zips his pants and grabs my hand.

“Next up, we mess up that mascara. Upstairs, though,” he whispers.

“Oh. Okey dokey. I think we broke the car.”

“We’ll get a new one,” he says with a wink and I laugh.

He’s got sparkle in his eyes when we reach the elevator. As I reach to press the button, I catch my reflection in the mirrored finish and my cheeks are bright pink, my eyes are definitely showing that I’m tipsy, but I look happy. He looks happy, too.

I press that button as an older couple, dressed to the nines, comes in and greets us.

“Killian, hello there. How are you doing?” The older gentleman asks.

His wife smiles at me.

“Hello Arthur. Mrs. Ramsay. How are you both doing tonight?”

“Very well, thank you, Killian,” Mrs. Ramsay says, “Just back from a lovely gala.”

“Excellent,” Killian replies.

The man nods in my direction and then the four of us get onto the elevator.

“How are you this fine evening, young lady?” the man asks.

“This is Violet Gates, my girlfriend,” Killian says.

And I smile so big my face hurts. I can’t help it. “I’m fine, thank you. Nice to meet you,” I reach out and shake each of their hands.

“I love your curly hair,” Mrs. Ramsay says to me. “You have so much of it! I used to have lovely hair. It doesn’t stay so nice as you get older. ” She looks self-conscious as she pats at her short grey bob.

“Oh, I think your hairstyle suits you very well, Mrs. Ramsay,” I tell her. “And you have lovely eyes.”

She beams at me. “And you have a beautiful smile, Violet. A lovely name. I had a cousin named Violet.”

Her husband smiles. “Lovely name for a lovely lady.”

I smile big at him.

They get out on the seventh floor, saying goodnight to us. I wave at them.

The door closes and I ask, “Damn, did I seem drunk?”

Instead of answering me, Killian is kissing me passionately. He kind of just jumps me.

And I’m all-in.

He’s got me against the wall, holding my face, grinding into me and he’s already hard again.

I gasp at how much passion he’s kissing me with. He’s nibbling along my throat; he’s got my hair in his hand and he pulls it back a little roughly to attack my throat. This makes me groan out a supremely pleased gasp as he suckles my throat.

“You’re gonna give me a hickey,” I tell him.

“Damn right I am,” he mutters.

“I have dinner on Sunday with my family.”

He releases my neck and looks disappointed.

“Wanna come?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he says, and he gives me a gorgeous smile.

“You can gimme a hickey somewhere they won’t see it if you want,” I offer.

He laughs and grabs my hand and puts it to his mouth.

The elevator doors open, and he tugs my hand and then I’m up in his arms. He kisses me all the way to the door and then once we’re inside it and the alarm is disarmed, he pulls me into the kitchen and I trip and we go tumbling to the floor while ripping one another’s clothes off.

“I haven’t officially moved in yet. How come we’re having kitchen sex?”

“Officially moving in means kitchen counter sex. Kitchen floor sex is the prequel.”

55

Killian

She’s drunk and I’m drunk on her.  I have no idea how dirty the sex will get when I’m drunk right along with her, but I can barely wait to find out.

She had fun tonight, and this makes me happy. Watching her let loose with her friends, but then be completely in tune with me when I entered the space she was in tonight was a great feeling. Our eyes meeting across the room, her stumbling through singing a song, hiding with shyness, not at the hundred and fifty people listening to her sing, but hiding from me.

And then coming straight to me when the song was over, burying her face in my chest all embarrassed. She was cute. And then she introduced me to her friends and I had a drink with them before I walked them up to my office so I could go do my team meeting. They waited there with more drinks and food and then I sat with them for half an hour before we left, giving them my time, seeing her beam with joy as they spoke to me.

They were a nice bunch. I was glad Dario’s ex wasn’t with them but would’ve dealt for Violet’s sake if she had been.

They seem like a great group even if that tall blonde eye-fucked me for a minute.

Violet told me before the night began that she was nervous about meeting that one, feeling like that was her replacement with Susanna while she’d been in her funk with him.

Speaking of the shit stain, he has no one, no cash, so nobody to pay the bail that was set, letting me feel comfort in the fact he’ll be in there until he goes to court again. He’ll have a public defender and little to no chance of getting off on the charges. And I know somebody who is making offers to the public defender to make sure things go a certain way.

I met Wes after he met with Mrs. Shear’s niece today. The niece wants to put the old lady in a senior’s assisted living building with access to help as her condition worsens. She’s suspected as having Alzheimer’s and there’s a specialist appointment set up. The niece apparently wasn’t close to her aunt so unaware of how bad it’d gotten but is stepping in now and staying at her apartment with her temporarily.

I told Wes to offer her the money that was taken. She wants him to pay it straight to the facility when she gets her aunt in, which makes me feel good, like she wants to do the right thing, not benefit off someone else’s poor health.

I’ve seen my share of louses out there who would take the money and leave the aunt flailing, so I’d already had Wes do a background check on the niece.

I’m satisfied with how all that’s gonna go.

I’m not entirely satisfied with the Raymond situation yet because I’d really like to play much dirtier than letting his own karma deal with him, but I’m also interested in being a good man for the woman I’m falling for.

She didn’t want me to hurt  him, she just wanted him out of her life and that’s how it looks like it’s gonna go.

I still can’t help but wanna wrap my fingers around his throat every time she gets jittery or shows signs of the damage he did. But in my non-professional opinion, she’s doing well, all that considered. She’s having fun, going out, she’s into me and this thing we’re building even if she’s telling me she wants to take it slow. I have no doubt in my mind that I’m ready for a commitment with her and that she’s ready for one with me.

I’m gonna give her everything she wants. And if that means letting him rot in jail instead of making his life the living hell I’d rather make it, I can deal. I’ll be able to sleep at night because I’ll have her in my bed.

After fucking her in the parking garage and then again on the kitchen floor, I lift her up and carry her to my bed.

“Is my mascara ruined?” she whispers.

“Not quite. Break you in slow for that…” I tell her.

“Oh, I get it,” she says. “It’s a blowjob thing, right? Deep throating so my eyes water?”

I smile wide.

“I’m down…” she tells me. “I’m pretty good at the deep throating thing. Even if your cock is the thickest and longest I’ve had so far.”

My smile goes even wider.

She’s cute. Leaning toward innocent but completely corruptible, which is a perfect combination in a woman as far as I’m concerned.

She insists she needs to wash her face and brush her teeth, so she goes and does that in the guest bathroom and comes back and then she’s out like a light in less than five minutes, snuggled up to me.

I sleep straight through the night, a rare occurrence for me since the night sleeping in her living room when she was still with him.

I wake up first and move all her stuff over to my bathroom and my closet while she sleeps, looking like an angel in my bed.

A snoring, drooling angel. And I’m pretty sure I’m done for. In love for the first time in my life.

56

Violet

Sunday Night

I had an amazing weekend. I’m on top of the world, actually.

Saturday, I slept late and had a hangover. Killian made me coffee and a bagel and coaxed me to eat the bagel and drink a sports drink, then I slept off and on until mid-afternoon. When I woke up, finally feeling human enough to get up, I opened my eyes to the wish picture over his fireplace in his room.

I almost cried.

He also moved the television over from the guest room and said he was going to buy a mount for it. Temporarily, he’d moved over the coffee table from the conversation nook and put it there.

We spent Saturday night eating Chinese food and watching Halloween movies in his bed.

I almost had heart failure when I went to go to my room to get comfy clothes to change into prior to dinner, but found the closets empty. I knew immediately he’d moved all my stuff over to his closet.

“Um, Killian, where are my clothes?” I’d asked anyway.

“You’re not officially moved in, but you are officially mine, so your stuff isn’t in the guest room, it’s here. Don’t get sassy about it, either,” he warned.

“Officially yours?” I quipped with my hands on my waist.

“Yes. Mine.” He grabbed me and planted a hot and heavy kiss on me. “Got a problem with that, Dimples?”

Killian’s warning was laced with playfulness so I just bit my lip and then I stepped into the master walk-in closet and marveled at how huge it was, at how many pairs of shoes I could potentially fit in the giant shoe section, and how cool it was to have my clothes across from his.

And then I told myself not to burst out and tell him that I’d gladly move in, because really, it’s too soon for that.

I grabbed my best yoga clothes, feeling like most of my stuff was too ratty for this space, and soaked in the heat in his massive shower, taking extra time to shave everywhere that was getting stubbly.

Fast forward to now, Sunday night, and we had a great afternoon at my parents’ house having dinner with them. It wasn’t the whole family with aunts and uncles and Grampa, but we did get to hang with my parents and my brother. I had a side-conversation with my mother to tell her Ray and I were officially done, that he’s officially out of my apartment. I didn’t bother to say he was in jail because that would’ve led to questions I didn’t need to answer.

Dad and Killian got along great. My brother wasn’t around much, other than during the actual meal and they seemed to get along well, too. I heard them talking about chess. Cody challenged Killian to a chess match next time they get together, and it dawned that their conversation in that afternoon amounted to more words uttered between them than Cody and Ray in three years. Ray had no time for Cody and Cody made no attempts to hide that he thought Ray was a dickhead.

Killian was sweet, attentive, and affectionate with me around my parents and they were both friendly with him. And me? I’m having a hard time believing how much my life has changed in a few short weeks.

***

“I like your family,” he says as I open one of the boxes that have been put into his third bedroom. This is the only one not taped up for some reason.   It’s one of eight large boxes and two large wardrobe boxes that were dropped off containing my things.

I also know Alana packed for me and I felt a little embarrassed about it because I have no idea what condition my apartment was in and no clue what she thinks of the fact that I appear to have moved in with her boss (even though I really haven’t, not officially).

“I think they like you, too. And you should definitely be prepared for a Thanksgiving dinner invite. If you’d rather not, that’s okay, too.”

He smiles. “Never been much for holiday meals, not since I was a little kid. Do you think they’d be cool with Will coming, too?”

“The more the merrier with my family. I’m glad you don’t seem to mind.”

He shakes his head. “Got a lot to be thankful for. I’ve always been a guy who likes to show gratitude. I’m fortunate.”

“You also work hard. That’s why you’re fortunate,” I point out, lifting out a brown envelope and feeling relief that I found this. Boudoir photos I had done for Ray for our first Valentine’s Day together. I’m glad to know where they are. There’s no nudity but they are definitely risqué enough that I don’t want them just floating around. I wonder where they were? I didn’t see them when I packed his stuff up.

Heat climbs up my face as I tuck the envelope into the back of another photo album and turn to Killian. His eyes are on the envelope.

“What’s that?”

“Just some pictures,” I shrug.

“Lemme see.”

“You don’t wanna see those,” I say.

He grabs my hand. “I’ve already seen them.”

I jerk back. “You have?”

He nods. “When I went into the apartment and got the chopsticks. They were on the coffee table, so I guess he was lookin’ at them. I recognize the envelope. If it’s the same envelope.”

“Pictures of me in lingerie?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says without inflection. “And nudes.”

“They’re here?” I look into the envelope again. What a relief. The stack of Polaroids are in the bottom. I dig in and see all five pictures are there. “Oh thank God for that.”

He growls. And it makes the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.

“I don’t exactly want these floating around. Oh my God, I hope Alana didn’t see them.”

“I have a confession,” he says.

I look at his face.

“I saw them when I picked up the chopsticks. I put them aside then. Popped them into this box yesterday.”

I’m dumbfounded by this news. But also grateful. I’m glad Ray no longer has these.  Killian gently takes the envelope out of my hand and flips through the boudoir photos. I look over them with him.

My hair was a bit shorter, my face was three years younger, and I probably weighed ten or fifteen pounds more than I do now so my cheeks and hips show it, but I was full of confidence.

“Beautiful,” he says. “Even if they were for him.”

“Back when I thought he was who he claimed to be,” I say.

“I’m gonna burn these,” I say, nabbing the Polaroids. “Right now. Got a lighter?”

“In the kitchen.”

He follows me and watches me burn them in his kitchen sink. Watching my face (and other body parts) melt isn’t a whole lot of fun, but I’m relieved these are now gone. After I turn the water on to douse the flames and rinse the ash out of the sink, I turn to him.

“Why’d you leave that night he and I met? You were gone the minute he approached me.”

He sifts his fingers through my hair and studies my face for a moment, not letting go of me with the other arm.

“I wish I’d had the chance to talk to you. Maybe I would’ve exchanged numbers with you instead,” I say.

He touches my face, and his eyes… they’re almost haunted.

He hasn’t said anything so I say, “I noticed you guys standing there and I was hoping you were the one who would buy me a drink or ask me to dance.”

“I had no choice,” Killian says, gravely. “Couldn’t watch him come onto you.”

“Why?” I ask, tilting my head curiously.

He continues to look at me without speaking.

Finally I prompt him with a jiggling of both of his shoulders. “What happened? Did something happen that night?”

“I broke my rule,” he says, his expression dire.

“What rule?”

“I took a bet.”

I frown.

He lets go of me and backs up. Then he heaves out a heavy breath and looks at me with an expression. A remorseful one. He swallows hard.

“I had my eye on you. He and I are havin’ drinks with a couple guys from the old neighborhood. It was a bit of a reunion, one of our buddies called everyone to go out and celebrate, found out his girl was pregnant with twins. Most of the guys were headin’ out to a strip joint after that club. A couple of us took a pass. Raymond and I wound up in conversation and he saw me watchin’ you dance. He made some remarks, I laughed it off, and then he wanted to flip a coin and see who got to make the approach.”

My eyes bulge.

“I never take bets, Violet. It’s not my style. I make my living knowing people have a fifty percent chance of losing, often not even that good. But I fucked up.”

“You… took a bet?”

“I gave him the right body language that made him flip the coin. I don’t know how the fuck it happened, it was just the night I guess, everyone laughin’. Drinkin’. Hadn’t seen Iadanza in a couple years and got caught up with everything but then it was over. He won the toss and then he was headin’ in your direction with a smug fuckin’ look on his face and I couldn’t watch. Couldn’t watch because I felt something when I saw you that night, like I told you before, hit me right in the fuckin’ chest. And then I realized how much I’d fucked up, but he’d already flipped it and he was headin’ for you.”

Killian swallows and pulls his lips tight.

My jaw has dropped.

After a beat, he continues. “Saw him a month later and couldn’t believe the shit comin’ out of his mouth about how you were it, how he struck gold with you and was gonna put a ring on your finger. Fucker tried to bet me right there on that, lookin’ to get a payout if he got you down the aisle, and I wasn’t about to get bit twice.”

I shake my head. “A coin toss. Wow.”

“You pissed at me?”

Killian’s eyes look haunted. He looks afraid that I’m going to be upset.

“Because I’m pissed at me,” he adds.

I put my hand to his cheek and rub. “Of course not. You didn’t know me. I’m just sort of sad that you took that bet.”

“Me too, baby. Fuckin’ believe me. More than sort of. That’s why when I ran into him last month and he said you were still together, I had to see for myself, had to see if I was wrong about that feeling I had with you because I really couldn’t wrap my head around you still being with him because I knew, growin’ up in the same shitty complex as that guy what he was all about. Honestly, I was hoping I’d see you and realize you were a loser too.”

I smile sadly. “I was.”

“No. You aren’t. He’s always gotten ladies based on his looks, but he lied and fooled you into feeling something for him before he showed who he really is, and you hung in there because you’re loyal. Like Susanna says. She told me you’re the most loyal person she knows. That’s not on you, it’s on him. I just wish I could go back.”

“He fooled us both.”

“You, yeah, he did. But he didn’t fool me, I just fucked up. I got caught off guard.”

I shake my head with dismay. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but… he fooled you with that trick, Kill.”

He straightens up. “Explain.”

I roll my eyes. “I found them the first time I did his laundry. And it wouldn’t be the last time. He kept one in each pocket. One coin with two heads and one with two tails. I had thrown them into a change jar, actually, but he got me to empty it and we dug until we found them. He said he used them for pranks. He’d ask someone to call it, or he’d call it and grab the one he needed. Two-headed coin in his left pocket, two-tailed coin in his right. Or the other way around. Can’t remember. Sorry, but I gave him shit for the trick and he said he barely used them, that they were just for gags. Guess Ray treated us both like chumps.” I reach into the fridge for two waters.

When I turn back around and see Killian’s face, he’s still. Statue-still.

“Nothing we can do about that lost time. At least we finally did connect.”

I can see by his face that he’s processing what I just told him. And he’s furious.

I set the bottled water down and wrap my arms around his waist, propping my chin on his chest and looking into his eyes.

He’s perfectly still except for one muscle jumping in his cheek. As I eyeball it, his chin twitches like he’s fighting off a scowl. Or a roar.

I hear my phone ringing from Killian’s room.

“Shit. That’s my mother’s ringtone. I better get it.” I let go of him and jog down the hall.

***

Mom wants to talk about how much she loves Killian. She’s going on and on and on about him. She starts asking Ray-questions, but I dodge them. She tries to bring it around again and I finally say, “Mom, he’s gone. I don’t think he’ll bother me again.”

Susanna is power texting me now too, sending each sentence as an individual text with all sorts of exclamation marks, so I let my mom go and quickly scan Suse’s tale of a guy she saw at a dog park that she thinks is her future husband.

Me: But you don’t have a dog

Susanna: I saw him go there with a dog so I kind of followed him.

I forward a laughing face and she phones me.

Killian comes in and heads around the corner to the nook with his desk.

I decline the call and text, “One minute.”

I want to check on Killian after running out in the middle of that conversation.

“Are you okay?” I ask, phone still in my hand as I round the corner.

He’s seated at his desk, doing something on his phone.

“No,” he answers immediately and flexes his jaw.

I’m rounding the desk, but then I’m pulled into his lap before I’m all the way around.

His right hand tangles into my hair and he pulls me to his chest. His body is trembling.

“Hey?” I ask. “You’re not okay?”

“No,” he growls.

I blow out a breath. And it’s insane, because he’s furious about the thing I just told him, but I don’t fear him. I feel safe, too, which is a switch for me when I’m around an angry male.

My phone rings again and this time it’s my grandfather.

“He never calls me,” I say, looking at the screen.

“Get it,” Killian says.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Can you take over the shoppin’ and bring me some real food?” Grampa greets.

“Uh…hi Grampa. How are you doing? You okay?”

“No. I’m not. Sara’s buyin’ me garbage. I need real food, kiddo. Can you help?”

Because I’m on Killian’s lap, he can hear the conversation, I’m sure, so surmising everything is okay with my grandfather, he squeezes me and I know he wants me to let him off the chair.

I stand up and he leaves the room with his phone, so I sit at his desk and talk to my grandfather for a few minutes where he moans and bitches about my mother and aunt who are bringing him healthy food and steaming and boiling things instead of frying them.

I tell him I’ll come over and make some healthy meals with flavor for him that’s in between on the scale of what he was eating and what his doctor, daughter and daughter-in-law want him to eat.

He warns he’ll try it and see but that he’ll happily drive himself to his favorite diner for all his meals if we don’t make sure he has flavor. And then he asks me about my new fella and wants to know when he’s going to meet him.

I can’t remember the last time my grandfather called me to shoot the breeze. So I revel in it, happy that I’ve got an opportunity to talk to him. We’re on the phone for the longest I’ve ever talked to him on the phone – at least a good ten minutes before I promise to pop by and make him some meals.

When I hang up, Killian is leaning in the doorway, looking at me. He has his coat on.

“I have to run out. Emergency at Exodus.”

“Oh. Okay. Is everything okay?” I get up and approach him.

“Some bullshit, the night manager needs me, so I gotta run down there and close. See you in the morning. I’ll drive you to work.”  He leans over and kisses me.

“Hey? You gonna be okay?” I ask.

I feel an extremely negative vibe coming off him.

He’s pissed about the double-sided coins.

“No clue.”

“Good thing my ex is in jail or you might put him in the hospital?” I ask, wincing.

“Something like that,” he says in what’s very nearly a growl.

“You told me you wouldn’t hurt him,” I say.

I give him a serious look.

He says nothing.

“It’s better to just put it behind us, Killian.”

“You get some sleep. They need me at Exodus. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

He kisses me again. He kisses me deep, with passion that has my belly swooping, and then looks into my eyes for a long moment before he backs away and leaves.

I blow out a long breath. He’s really angry. I can’t blame him.

I am, too. If he had asked me out that night instead of Ray… we might have gotten together, might still be together. I wander back to the bed and my eyes stop at the dandelion wish-art over the fireplace.

By now, we could be married, maybe even be talking about having children. Or maybe we wouldn’t be anything, but I wouldn’t have wound up with Ray. Wouldn’t have become the slow-boiled frog.

I shake it off.

No point thinking long about it. It’s done. Ray Iadanza is a liar. And a scammer. A liar and scammer who robbed poor Mrs. Shear, but this time, he got caught.

At least he’s out of my life.

“Violet?” Killian’s head pops back in.

I look at him expectantly.

“Sleep naked. I’ll be waking you up when I get back.”

I smile and squirm with excitement.

He smiles, too, giving me a look of promise, but his eyes don’t look right.

I let it go, though. I get into bed and curl up with the remote, deciding to binge on a rom com series. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to watch something with romance. Probably because my own love life was so lacking for a while.

57

Killian

I get to Exodus, ready to close for my manager, Paul, who has a black eye and keeps having dizzy spells. He got knocked in the back of the head in the parking lot when he went out to take out some trash. The dishwasher was off to the side, having a smoke and happened to see it and chase the guy, dressed in a balaclava with a crowbar in his hand. The guy in the balaclava was fast and gave him the slip. I’ve decided the dishwasher is getting promoted for that.

Paul tries to tell me he’s fine, but I get one of the bartenders to take him to the ER.

Alana was supposed to have the day off and I called her, but she’s got two puking kids and I’ve got people covering for her already at Genesis, so she’s no use tonight.

Tony, my head of security at Genesis and me are in the office at Exodus, going through security footage when I get a text from my manager at Law that a brick was thrown at one of our waitresses as she left. Hit her in the shoulder.  She’s okay, but shaken up.

I call Craig over at Numbers to make sure everything’s good over there, but he’s not answering. Numbers closed an hour earlier so it’s not unheard of to not get ahold of my manager. He might be already home and in bed.

I get an alert from our security company. Someone tried to break into Numbers. I head over there and arrive to two broken windows. We comb the place to make sure nobody got in.

Someone has targeted me tonight. Who the fuck is it?

And why?

Things finally go quiet after that and there’s nothing to do but get the windows boarded, get extra security to watch the location until repairs can be made in the morning, and try to figure out who is responsible for this.

We’ve got nothing tonight, so I decide to head home but on the way, my brother calls me to tell me someone threw a brick through his front window with a note taped that said,

You fuck people over they’ll fuck you back.

My brother’s fine. And he’s got surveillance of the license plate of the car that pulled up, rolled down a window and tossed the brick so we have a make/model/license plate. Those turn up squat – other than that the plate doesn’t match the car and has been reported stolen.

I have logged into my own security system no less than two dozen times tonight to make sure Violet is okay and that my apartment isn’t part of whatever is going on tonight. I alerted the security guard in the building to be extra vigilant. Whoever is targeting me may think I still live at my old house where my brother lives. Or, they haven’t figured out how to get past security in my building yet.

***

By the time I climb into bed, I’ve also had a call that bricks got thrown through two windows at Genesis.

Climbing in with Violet in my bed settles me immediately. It takes the coldness out of my gut that’s been sitting there all night.

She snuggles in. “Hiya,” she whispers, sleepily.

“Hey,” I say, kissing the ridge of her ear.

“What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

“Oh shit. Long night.”

“Yeah, shit night. But coming home to you feels good.”

She turns over so she’s facing me and snuggles in, tucking her head under my chin.

She’s naked, as per my instructions. And fuck, this makes me happy. I reach into the nightstand for a condom and roll it on.

I fuck her slow, savoring every minute, loving every whimper I earn, wishing I’d had this for three years instead of the last three days.

I can’t think about that now, or I’ll either lose my hard on or I’ll be too rough. I’ll think on that later.

I make her come quickly and I’m not far behind her.

***

I pull her tight, the condom dealt with, her empty juice glass on the nightstand, and the sun beginning to rise.

“Move in with me. Please. I need you here when I get home. I need to know you’re safe. Shit happened tonight, someone sending strong messages that they’re targeting me. I won’t sleep if we’re not in the same place.”

She tenses.

Shit. I shouldn’t have done this right now. She’s already a little spooked.

She caresses my jaw. “Killian,” she says, and her word is my answer. She’s not ready.

I grind my teeth. “Forget I said that for now. We’ll talk later.”

She snuggles in. “I’ll drive myself to work. You need sleep.”

“No. Some shit happened tonight. Security problems. I’m concerned about safety. I’ve got Will coming and driving you.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. He’ll be here at eight, he’ll let himself in so you’re not even walking downstairs alone. Can you eat lunch in your office? Don’t go anywhere tomorrow? Today, I guess.”

“Okay. Wanna tell me what happened tonight?”

“Can I tell you after I get some sleep? Exhausted, baby. But someone’s targeted all four of my bars tonight and thrown a brick in the window of Will’s house. Two of my team members got hurt.”

“Oh no! Are they okay?”

“Yeah. They are, but this shit has me tweaked.”

“Of course it does.” She leans up and plants a kiss on my chin and then snuggles back in. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

I let out a sigh. At least she’s here now. At least I don’t have to wonder if she’s all right.

But if she thinks she’s gonna be out of my sight any time soon without security to watch her, she’s wrong.

“No. But I’ve got people working on figuring that out.”

“Good. Try to rest. Okay?”

I lay there for a while holding her, while she rubs my shoulder with affection, before her pace slows and finally, her hand flops as her breathing evens out and she’s fallen back to sleep.

I’m thinking about that shit she told me tonight about Fuckhead with his double-sided coins. I can’t think about it without feeling like a bull, ready to charge.

All tonight’s bullshit got in front of that temporarily, but back here, holding her in my arms, thinking that I could’ve had her in my bed every night the past thousand plus nights?

Or that maybe at the very least she wouldn’t have faced years of abuse with that shit stain?

I am not okay.

I’m so far from okay, it’s unreal.

58

Killian

Six Days Later – Dario Ferrano’s Wedding

I’ve known Dario Ferrano since we were teenagers. We didn’t go to school together, he was fourteen and I was sixteen when we met, plus I lived in a different neighborhood, but we met at the pizza place I worked at.

His father used to do business in the back room there and sometimes brought him along, sent him into the kitchen to help prep. He was a good fucking friend and wise beyond his years. He joked about his father giving him and his brother grunt jobs to build character.

But I respected that, especially seeing some of the assholes that’d hang out with their friends, full pockets, little to no work ethic, and empty heads. The kinds of guys that started making me enough money to build my empire.

Dario watched how I conducted my bookie hustle and went to his father with the idea of bankrolling me. Mr. Ferrano helped me take my bookie business to the next level, where men twice, even three times my age were placing bets with me. His father, rest his soul, saw my ambition and gave me great advice as well as access to certain useful resources when I needed them. It’s down to him I opened Genesis, the beginning of my new life. After I paid him back, we rarely spoke, though I won’t ever forget what he and his sons have done for me.

Really though, rewinding back to after my mother died, that’s when my new life started. Mr. Ferrano helped me and Will avoid CPS, and Dario, his older brother Tommy, and their crew took my back when I needed it most, when I made Max pay for what he did.

I’d done a few favors for Mr. Ferrano over the years, too. Not always easy ones, but he was always fair with me and taught me a lot.  One of his daughter’s husbands now runs the pizzeria, a guy that started working there not long after I left. I try to eat there once a month and Dario and I stay in touch.

Watching Dario in that little church with just his family and a small group of his closest friends marry a gorgeous redheaded knockout in a strapless white gown that he was clearly in love with, who was absolutely looking at my friend like she was marrying the man of her dreams when he lifted that veil and looked into her eyes, it was beautiful. It hit me in the feels.

And I watched Violet watch them with the purest smile on her face, her eyes going bright with tears as they made their promises. Dimples on display. Fuck, she’s beautiful. And I’m talking on the inside, too.

She’s friendly with a girl who’s hung up on the groom and yet she watches the ceremony with nothing but pure happiness for the couple.

This girl, my girl, has a heart of gold.

This week with her – unbelievable. Better than I could’ve hoped.

I’ve been busy, extra busy with all sorts of bullshit, but to have had her beside me each night this week has been a soothing thing. An empowering thing. We’ve shared a couple meals, spent a bit of time together, and most nights this week I’ve made it to bed before she got up for work.

I know – know for a fact that she’s the one for me. It won’t change.

I’ve had a metric fuck-ton of shit going on this week including shit I do not want her to know about. My goal right now is to do my absolute best to make sure that I give her the life she deserves. A worry-free, abuse-free life after what she’s been through.

No, I’m still not okay about all of that shit with the coin flip, but as it happens, I’ve found a therapeutic way to deal with it.

***

After the ceremony, I introduced her to Dario, who introduced us to his bride, Angel. I said hello to Dario’s brother Tommy, met his new wife, said hello to a few of the guys I know from my old bookie days, and then we left, heading to the hotel where the reception is being held.

As good of a week as it’s been in some ways, it’s also been a bloody exhausting week with a fuck of a lot of running around, and I’ve been looking forward to kicking back and enjoying the wedding reception.

Turns out Amber, my former thieving waitress was the catalyst for all that bullshit last Sunday. It was her thug dealer boyfriend getting up in my shit with all that drama across my clubs, breaking Will’s window, too. All that was not only an attempt at retaliation for me letting her go, they were also trying to find a way to rob me.

I’ve dealt with that bullshit to the extent I have no concerns about that thug and Amber’s in the wind, but she’ll turn up like the cockroach she is.

As for tonight, I’m planning on having a good night.

Violet is smiling, and looking beautiful in a gorgeous blue dress that she bought earlier this week on a shopping trip with Susanna. She asked me to pick her shoes for tonight, so I chose one of the pairs I’d bought her for the Numbers opening and they make her legs and her ass look amazing. I’m looking forward to the end of the evening, maybe getting a little drunk and dirty, so I decide I’ll tease her during the wedding reception. Time to get the anticipation going.

59

Violet

We haven’t had all that much time together; he’s been insanely busy with work, and it’s meant a lot of late nights, but the time we’ve had together has been amazing.

And because he’s been busy a lot and I’ve had time to myself, I’ve gotten space to feel like maybe it isn’t too soon to get serious with him. I don’t feel suffocated or overwhelmed. On the contrary, I’m finding myself hoping he’s not always this busy. But if he is and life with him is like this, it’s still more than enough, because he’s amazing.

Sexy. Demonstrative. Generous. Great in bed. Beyond great. He listens when I talk. He asks me what I think. He smiles at me like he’s smitten with me – every time I smile or laugh, he looks happy – like he’s accomplished something.

I’m falling deep. And I don’t even care anymore that it’s so soon after Ray, because it feels right.

This wedding reception takes place in a beautiful hotel banquet room with an absolutely gorgeous couple after having been in the cutest little church for a simple and elegant wedding ceremony and this is the kind of fun I need. Seeing someone’s happy ending play out. Even if I don’t know them, I do know by seeing how they look at one another, that this is definitely true love.

As for the groom, Killian’s longtime friend, I can certainly see why Deb is hung up on him. Dario Ferrano is male-model gorgeous. Tall, built, blond, with stormy blue-grey eyes and tanned skin.

I’ve sworn off blond men but he’s the kind of guy that’d make a girl reconsider her preference of dark versus fair hair.

One look at his face when the beautiful redhead with the blue eyes walked down the aisle toward him and I knew Deb didn’t have a chance. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anybody as in love as those two.

Maybe mine and Killian’s love story will play out well too and one day I’ll be in his arms in a pretty white dress.

It’s way too soon for this but with the epiphany of Ray cheating him on that coin toss, I can’t help but fantasize about what might’ve been. What might still be, thankfully. I feel like we’re incredibly lucky we got this second chance.

It’s a small reception, but the banquet room has beautiful people, including Dario’s older brother, who is celebrity hall pass material in the gorgeous department. He has a beautiful wife, too. Everything was picture-perfect for the couple.

While Killian has been busy with his security problems for his clubs, I’ve been keeping busy with my job and my newfound social life, not to mention my love life. He’s made time to get up early and drive me to work all but twice and we’ve only had dinner together twice this week, but once was last night at his club by the airport that I hadn’t been to yet. He had a driver pick me up from his place and drop me off to him.

I haven’t gone back to my apartment. I haven’t said anything else about moving into my own place and neither has he.

I’ve just been swept into this new life that feels like a fantasy.

Monday and Wednesday, Killian’s brother Will drove me to work. He’s a super-sweet guy and I like him a lot.

The other day, Susanna picked me up after work and we went shopping for me to buy a dress for this wedding as well as for dinner and a movie and then she came up to see the apartment and say hello to him.

She loved that Killian gave me a credit card, insisting I buy a dress for the wedding because I felt like none of the ones he bought me already were right for the wedding. Too sexy, I thought. I wanted to make a good impression on his friends. I didn’t love the credit card so much, especially when I saw it was in my own name, but it was something he’d get the bill for. But he insisted he wanted me to have pretty things, waving it off.

“What if you and I don’t work out?”

“Then I’d cancel the card. But why wouldn’t we work out? You ready for greener pastures?” he teased.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “I’m not like that… looking to spend your money frivolously.”

He kissed me as he stuck the card in my back pocket and then swatted my butt, telling me to use the card for whatever I wanted.

“You said Raymond put you in debt? I want you to use your paycheck to pay off your debts. Anything else you need or want, use that card.”

“No. I’m not doing that; I’ll pay my own way.”

He notched an eyebrow. “You want a spanking?”

“Maybe,” I said, not meaning it in a sexual way, but then it went sexual, because he slapped my butt and then went down on me.

Just before I was ready to climax, he stopped and looked up at me. “Buy a dress. Use the card. Pay your debts off.”

“Kill…”

“Or maybe I don’t let you finish…” he teased, kissing my hip.

I laughed.

And then he made me come.

I’m not planning on using his card for anything other than the dress. Spankings or not.

When Susanna and I got back to his place after dinner and shopping, he was home from work, on the couch, his laptop out, in just a pair of sweatpants. I thought my bestie was going to expire on the spot. She grabbed my hand and gulped in air.

“Put a shirt on, sir, or your girl’s best friend might lose control and attempt to ravish you. Then my bestie would throw me off your balcony. Hurry. Quick.” She covered her eyes and waited while Killian did what he was told, looking at me with mischief in his eyes.

Between the condo and my shirtless new guy, Susanna’s eyes bulged repeatedly as she gave me looks – looks that I knew how to decipher. She was not jealous. Susanna was ecstatic for me. She wanted this for me.

He invited me to take her on a tour. When she and I stepped into the walk-in closet in the master bedroom and she saw my clothes taking up less than a quarter of the space on the hers side, she grabbed me by both shoulders and said, “If you try to slow things down with this relationship, I will drug you, bound and gag you, hide you in this massive closet, and take your place. I am not joking. You’re nuts if you don’t soak every bit of this in.”

I laughed. Because she didn’t mean that. She definitely loved this for me.

“I will feed you and hose you down once in a while, you know, when I’m not busy getting sexed by your delicious man.”

“That’s enough of that.” I hit her with a pillow.

We dissolved into fits of laughter and Susanna flopped on the bed, spreading her arms and legs and doing a snow angel motion, messing up the comforter. I plopped down beside her.

“I don’t wanna backtrack,” I told her, soberly. “I’m falling in love with him. I can’t believe this is actually my life. He’s amazing.”

She smiled big, got tears in her eyes, and hugged me.

“How could you not? When you two get married,” she whispered in my ear, “I better be your flower girl.”

I gawked at her. “Flower girl? You mean maid of honor.”

She shook her head and sat up, wiping happy-tears from her eyes with her fingertips, her ringlets bouncing, and said, “Nope. Fuck that. I don’t want all that work that goes with being a maid of honor. All that planning, and showers, and shit. Just give me a pretty dress and let me walk down the aisle showering everybody with petals.”

Laughing, I hugged her hard. “You’re totally going to have to throw me a shower and be my bee-atch while I plan my wedding. But we’re jumping ahead. We’ve been dating a week. How can I be feeling this way so fast? Is it because he essentially rescued me?”

She busted up laughing.

“It’s more like he’s essentially the catch of the century and is treating you like the queen that you are, Violet.”

I smiled. “And really…” I added, “When the time comes, I don’t need all that glitz and pageantry. I just need the man and the preacher and the promises. I just need us looking into one another’s eyes and knowing down to the bottom of my soul that we both mean it.”

“You’re so right, girlfriend. Some day my prince will come, maybe.”

“I thought my prince turned out to be a toad, but now I’ve got a knight. I’m more than happy to have a knight.”

She looked around. ”The guy has money, Violet. He’s a stacked knight. I mean, I could get fired from my job for telling you this, but he’s got millions. Plus I’m sure he’s got to have investments I can’t see with other banks. And profits coming in fast and furious from that gambling website. That business account isn’t even with my bank so who knows what it’s worth. What if he wants a prenup? Is that going to burst your bliss bubble? Guys who are business-minded tend to be businessy about that shiz.”

“I don’t care about his money. I’d sign it. All I need is the way he looks at me to know he loves me. I mean… if we get to that point.”

“You will. You might already be there.”

“He acts like he loves me, Suse. If he hasn’t even fallen yet I can’t imagine how great things would be if he does. But if he lost it all tomorrow and wanted to go live in the woods with nothing but a knife and his wits, I’d feel confident that man could shelter and feed me and keep me safe as well as make me happy.”

“Oh my God. You’re giving me a toothache.” She rolled her eyes. “You feel this way that fast?”

I nodded. “God, did I really just say that?”

“You did.”

“Yeah. Pretty sure I do.”

“So, you’re ready to make it official and move in?”

I shook my head. “Not quite. It’s been a week. I think that’s a little crazy.”

“Maybe a little bit of crazy is just the thing you need.”

When Susanna left, I ran a bath and Killian joined me there, holding me, being quiet, but kissing me non-stop. And then he made love to me for at least two hours in his bed.

I wondered if he’d somehow overheard me, with the way he was acting.

We still haven’t used the kitchen counters yet, but I feel like if he asked me again if I wanted to stay, I’d be tempted so that he would lift me up on those counters and fuck me there like he wanted to do so much. He hasn’t brought it up. He’s just spent the week taking every opportunity, though they weren’t excessive as he was so busy, that I’ve got no choice but to be falling for him. Because he’s incredible.

Even if he’s in super late, he’s pouring me that coffee in the morning.   One day, I talked to him mid-afternoon and told him I was having a shitty day of putting out fires and when I got back, he’d ordered in dinner and ran me a bubble bath.

After we ate, and we prepped and cleaned up together, he gave me a foot rub.

I feel like I’m taking more than I’m giving and it’s not what I’m used to. I feel like I want to show my appreciation more.

At the start of the week, he was really stressed about his security worries but then told me he knew it was down to the girl he fired for stealing.

And this probably helped me fall a little more, because that’s the girl from the night he first took me to Genesis and the fact that she’s causing drama because he fired her means he only fired her, didn’t hurt her like I first worried about.  This is much more preferable to what I thought… wondering if he ‘disappeared’ her.

He said she hooked up with a drug dealer and he’s a) trying to screw him over in the name of revenge for firing her and b) trying to take an opportunity to profit from that.

It made a huge wave of relief crest over me and honestly, made me feel even better about my relationship with him.

I said as much to Killian when he questioned why I looked relieved about the fact that someone was trying to fuck him over.

“No, no, don’t get me wrong,” I’d said, “It’s awful you’ve dealt with this but… I have to admit, I wondered what happened to her.”

“Explain,” he requested.

“I didn’t really know much about you then. I only knew what you-know-who had suggested… that you made people who crossed you pay. The fact that you fired her and let her off with a warning says good things to me about you.”

He threw his head back, laughed, and then pulled me close, whispering against my lips. “Did you think I made her sleep with the fishes for pulling a couple fifties out of my till?”

I rolled my eyes. “Never know nowadays. There’s plenty of that type of crime here where we live.”

“True enough,” he shrugged.

“How are you dealing with these guys?” I asked. “A sting with the cops?”

“It’s probably better I don’t bog you down with the details,” he replied.

That made me bristle. I found myself fretting about the fact that he wasn’t talking about involving the cops. I’d had a bit of a relief with the way things had happened with Ray and Mrs. Shear – the police being involved. It had me thinking maybe he wasn’t that dark businessman straddling the line between the law-abiding world and the criminal underworld like Ray suggested, but the comments he made about how his guys would be dealing with the drug dealer had me concerned.

I’m beginning to think Killian deals with criminals in a different way than he deals with the law abiders like Mrs. Shear.

Maybe it was better to leave that stuff in the column of not needing to know. For now.

As for Ray, I haven’t heard a thing about him since finding out he was arrested.

I asked Killian on Wednesday night if there was any news and he shrugged it off.

“You’ll let me know if you hear anything, right?”

“Of course,” he said and then kissed me and changed the subject.

But the look in his eyes at the mention of Ray’s name chilled me.

Obviously, Ray is a sore spot, would’ve been in general, but after the double-sided coin conversation – there was a different chill coming off Killian whenever his name came up. I was thinking it’d be a good idea to do my best to just not bring it up. For my sake as well as Killian’s.

***

We’re seated at a table at the wedding reception with two couples Killian knows. Bianca and Nino, as well as Luciana and Ed. Luciana is the youngest sister of the groom and Killian tells me that her husband Ed runs the restaurant that used to be the pizza joint he worked at as a teenager. It’s now a fine dining establishment and Ed jokes that Killian can still come make pies, that they still use the old recipe.

And then it turns to teasing as Killian tells Ed that I like pineapple on pizza.  Ed tells me we should come by for dinner and he’ll make me a dessert pizza, which is where the pineapple really belongs.

Killian introduces Nino as a business associate and I ask, “Oh, what business are you in?”

The big, burly guy leans in, looking me straight in the eye before deadpanning, “I’m in waste management.”

His wife slaps his arm and rolls her eyes. “Get me another drink, Tony Soprano.” He laughed heartily and kissed her, then winks at me. “Need a refill, too?”

***

After the bride and groom’s first dance to the old seventies’ song Make Me Do Anything You Want, the DJ announces the next song is for all couples. Who You Love by John Mayer and Katy Perry.

Killian grabs my hand and leads me to the dancefloor. Our first dance ever. He’s light on his feet and the way he holds me feels amazing as we move to the song.

My eyes touch on all the other couples dancing too and it feels like there’s so much love in this room that if it could be bottled those vials would sell for a mint, traded for souls even.

I try to calm my racing heart because of some of what I’m feeling this fast, and also what’s coming at me from the man whose arms I’m in. The guy who is helping me find myself again. The guy who is doing a great job of making me fall head over heels for him.

I feel confident with him.

I feel sexy and desirable with him.

I don’t feel like I have to hide, camouflage myself.

I’m still not one hundred percent the old me, and maybe I never will be, but I really love the direction my life is heading in. And it’s thanks to him.

He seems to get a kick out of my klutziness instead of rolling his eyes, making cutting remarks about it, or getting annoyed by it.

When I screw up, he doesn’t lose it on me, doesn’t belittle me.

He indulges my taste in corny movies. He’s tidy and kind to his employees and their kids.

It’s happening fast, the emotions I’m feeling for him.

I wanted to be cautious. I wanted to give myself time to heal. I am praying that I’m doing the right thing here, letting things happen organically with Killian.

Work is good. Life is good. My family likes him. My family is more than happy to have me in the fold again. And I have friends.

“I wanna go away together,” Killian whispers in my ear. “You think you can get some time off work?”

I nod. “I have vacation to use up. What about right after Christmas?”

“That works,” he says. “Pick a place. We’ll go.”

“What kind of place?”

“Someplace where all we need are swimsuits and toothbrushes.” He twirls me around as the song ends and then leads me back to our table. “What about Christmas?” he asks. “What’s the plan?”

I smile. “For my family, same as thanksgiving. Dinner at my parents’ house. Or maybe my Grampa’s. They’re talking about doing it there. He’d be ecstatic having us all there.”

“Am I invited?”

I smile big. “Significant others are always welcome.”

“Is that what I am? Significant?” He kisses my ear.

I snuggle in and he kisses me again.

“I’d love to spend Christmas with you, Killian,” I tell him.

Our eyes lock and the emotion in his eyes is so disarming.

It’s like everyone and everything else just disappear.

The other couples aren’t back at our table yet, so I find myself watching the head table. The bride throws her head back and laughs with three beautiful women, one of them Luciana. Another lady holding a baby leans over and kisses the bride on the forehead and her eyes get even happier. She’s definitely a glowing bride.

The song Macarena comes on and the four girls all dash to the dance floor together.

I don’t know them, or I might’ve run up, too.

The lady with the baby sits and for a second, I consider going over to offer to hold the baby so she can dance, but I see she’s surrounded by kids so surmise she’s watching all of them so their moms can enjoy themselves.

I catch Killian’s eyes watching me as I smile at the kiddie table.

I give him my full attention.

He’s smiling, too, looking genuinely happy. Relaxed.

He’s had a difficult week, so it’s a really nice thing to see, such a wide smile on his face, relaxed posture.

I lean forward and whisper, "I really love these shoes you picked out for me, Killian."

"Good," he says casually, but then leans in and his breath whispers across the skin behind my ear, making goosebumps erupt as he informs me in a way that is not at all casual,  "Glad you like them. You'll still be wearing them later when I bend you over and slip my tongue inside you."

I gulp. Wow. That was… wow.

I see the bride waving me over, then waving at the table beside ours that has another few couples that I don’t know and then all the girls in the place are moving toward the dancefloor together.

“Go,” he says. “I love watching you dance. And while I do, I’ll be thinking about all the dirty things I’m gonna do to you later.”

I bite my lip, feeling a whoosh of wet heat between my legs. I somehow manage to compose myself as I rise, smoothing out my dress. I do my best to give him a sultry look before I join the girls.

Killian watches me for a minute doing the macarena, which isn’t a super-sexy dance, but the way he’s looking at me you’d think I was stripping for him. Finally, he rises and approaches the bar and stands there with the groom, groom’s brother, and the guys from our table. Each with eyes on their women as we dance our butts off.

I dance for three or four songs with those girls, having a fabulous time and catching Killian’s eyes on me repeatedly, feeling a little bit like that first night I saw him, knowing he was watching me dance, only this time, Ray isn’t there beside him.

Killian takes my picture with his phone as I dance, surprising me. I blow him a kiss and he takes another one and then winks as he tucks his phone into his pocket.

***

We step out of the hotel. The bride and groom have just had their last dance before he whisked her away to their honeymoon suite with a look in his eyes that revved my already running motor because Killian has been giving me looks of promise all night since his comment about bending me over. I’m ready to go back to his beautiful condo and have some drunk sex. Dirty sex.

He texts his driver to come get us.

“He’ll be here in ten minutes,” he tells me as we’re exiting the banquet room into the front lobby of the hotel. His eyes are a little glassy and he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.

“Wanna take a walk around the property while we wait? It’s so pretty here,” I suggest.

“Yeah.” He grabs my hand, kisses it, and then we decide to stroll around the perimeter of the hotel, which looked like a fall portrait during the day. Now the pathways are lit so we can easily stroll through the small maze of hedges.

He’s holding my hand. It’s a little nippy out, and leaves are falling around us. But the alcohol and his presence has me feeling toasty inside.

We exit the little maze and walk across a romantic stone drawbridge over a pond before we get to a pretty fountain that’s still running and backlit with color-changing lights. The chill in the air and the steam from our breath makes it feel even more romantic to me.

“Fuckin’ wish I hadn’t taken that bet, Dimples,” he says, and my smile vanishes.

His eyes look so sad.

I feel a burst of affection at seeing that expression.

I’m feeling so lucky right now. Lucky we found one another. Lucky he saved me from the tragic tale my life had become.

We haven’t talked about this since Sunday night. But I’ve felt like it’s been weighing on him. Me, too, but I don’t think as heavily because I feel lucky we got to meet and start, even if it took time to get to it.

“I know. But that’s what happened and here we are,” I say. “It could be worse. You might not have run into Ray that night you came over. We have a chance now, at least, right?”

“My grandmother told me I should be patient in life, wait for what waits, work for what I want. Work hard, be patient about things not in my control.”

“Sounds like good advice.”

“But it feels shit that I had to wait three years for you and that you had to go through bullshit. I feel like I could’ve stopped it.”

This is the first time he’s talked about his family, other than his brother.

“Maybe we’ve both been through what we’ve been through so that we could be where we are right now and appreciate it,” I say, shrugging.

“Maybe, Violet. But I fuckin’ hate it.”

I squeeze his hand.

“Maybe I had to wait,” he says, thoughtfully. “Maybe I wasn’t ready and wouldn’t have been what you need,” he shakes his head. “Guess we’ll never know about that, but what I don’t get is why you had to get hurt so bad. You shouldn’t have to get hurt to get a chance to fix yourself by being with me. Maybe I should’ve had to wait to be in a place where I could be the man you want, a man who deserves you. But why the fuck did you have to get hurt so badly first? You didn’t deserve that.”

I snuggle into him. It doesn’t seem like it comforts him, though he puts his arms around me.

“I had a pretty easy, pretty charmed life before him, though, Killian,” I say.

He looks down at me and cups my face.

The wind picks up and I feel it, especially having a dress on. I shiver, but continue.

“Great family, friends, happy life. The only really bad thing that happened to me was when my grandmother died. Lots of people around me have hard stories. A life of pain. I think I’m pretty lucky.”

He strokes my cheek, eyes actively searching my face.

“Maybe my time with him was the hard part of my story, Kill. Maybe to get a really good happy ending, you have to face some trials along the way.” I shrug.

He lifts my hand and kisses it, still studying me.

“I learned a lot about myself along that journey, too,” I tell him. “A lot about what I don’t want. About what I don’t deserve. He hurt me, but I let him, and I won’t make that mistake again. I won’t allow myself to be led into that kind of position again. I lost a lot of time in that pain, in that place I let myself be put in. Nobody’s going to ever have that power over me again.”

He touches my face. “Good. You’re stronger today than you were then… the night we officially met in your apartment. You’re doing great. I see it. You’re blooming like a flower, Violet.”

“In large part because of you. Thank you. If I’m like a flower, I need sunshine and nurturing and affection to grow and you’re giving me that, you know? Thank you, Killian. So much.”

His phone’s text alert goes off and he uses his free hand to pull it from his pocket, keeping his other hand on my face.

“Driver’s pullin’ up. Let’s go home. Time for some dirty, drunk sex.”

I giggle. “Are you drunk?”

“A little,” he admits.

“It was a beautiful wedding,” I say.

“It was,” he agrees softly, his voice husky. His eyes meet mine and they sparkle. It makes me wonder; does he see himself married some day?

I don’t ask.

We’ve been together a week, we’ve known one another a month, though known of one another for over three years, but I’m the one trying to say we should go slow. He’s obviously intent on showing me the value of fast without putting pressure on me, and I appreciate it. It’s too soon to talk about anything serious.

We round the building, hand in hand, and leave the fenced-in garden area. Across the street, there’s a car idling at the curb.

“That’s him,” Killian says and then we’re heading that way when suddenly shadows move in from multiple directions and I see Killian fall forward as someone hits him on the back of the head.

I scream as Killian falls face first onto the road.

A guy in a dark coat, a hood hiding most of his face, has a shovel in his hand. He hit Killian with that shovel!

I’m pulled back by someone and a car goes by, swerving to miss us and squealing on the brakes.

“Throw her in the back!” One of them in the car yells, and the back door is opened.

I struggle, screaming as two other men jump out of the car and are kicking Killian. They’re hoofing him in the legs, in the gut, and then I’m released and they’re running in multiple directions as a gunshot sounds. A man runs over, Killian’s driver, Stan. He shot his gun up in the air, I think.

“Call an ambulance, call for help!” I shout, dropping to my knees and putting my hands on Killian. He’s unconscious. His face is bleeding. “Oh my God!”

I’m vaguely aware of Killian’s driver on the phone with a 9-1-1 operator.

60

Killian

Noise pulls me from darkness. I can’t open my eyes. My lids are glued shut. Why? It’s noisy and dark.

Violet!

I was swarmed. I was knocked unconscious.

Where’s Violet?

Fucking where’s Violet?

Don’t let them have hurt her.

Who the fuck was it?

Why did I let my fucking guard down?

“Killian, it’s okay.”

That’s her voice. Why can’t I open my fucking eyes?

I hear a groaning sound. I think it’s me.

Floaters are behind my eyelids. Red ones. White ones.

“Violet?”

Is that my voice? It sounds weak.

“You’re in the hospital,” she says, and her voice sounds wet. She’s crying as she squeezes my hand. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Killian.”

“Baby?” I call out.

“It’s okay. Shh. Just rest. You’re okay.”

I smell her. I feel her holding my hand tighter, but I can’t unglue my eyes.

“The doctor’s coming in a minute. Just hang tight. Try to rest.”

I pry my eyes open enough to see the slivers of light, then they get so bright, and it hurts but I search for her anyway. I need to.

Big, scared dark eyes are at me. Wet eyes. Red eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

I squeeze her hand.

Fuck, my head feels fuzzy.

“Who hit me? What the fuck happened?”

That bullshit with Amber. Is that what this is? Can’t be. Can it?

Violet leans in and looks about to speak, but then I hear a male voice and see a guy in a white coat moving behind her, over me. A doctor. Behind him, I see my brother in the doorway.

At least my brother’s here. He’ll know to take care of Violet, to keep her safe.

But it’s my job to do it. Mine.

“Keep her safe, Willie,” I groan. “Call Nino or Tino.”

“Yeah, man. On it. It’s all good,” he responds.

“Violet?” I call out.

My voice sounds funny. Weird sounds echo in my ears. A nurse moves in past Will and my vision goes spotty with more floaters.

“Violet, I love you,” I say before I sink into darkness.

***

She didn’t leave. She’s sleeping in a chair directly beside me. She looks uncomfortable.

I don’t know how much time has passed. It’s dim in the room, but the sun is rising, I think.

“Hey,” I rasp.

She jerks awake, though I know my scratchy voice didn’t get loud.

“Hey baby?” I say. “What happened?”

She leans over and rubs my hand. I grab hers and tug, wanting her closer. Chair legs scrape across the floor as she scoots closer.

“We were walking toward your driver and three guys swarmed us. One hit you with a shovel, one held me and two more guys got out of a car and they were kicking you and Stan shot his gun into the sky, I think. They took off.”

“You hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Nobody hurt me. The one guy just held me back. How are you feeling?” She cups my cheek with her palm. I lean in and sigh.

“Like somebody hit me in the back of the head with a shovel and like three guys took the boots to me.”

Her face crumples and she’s crying.

“Hey,” I call out, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb. “I’m all right.”

“I was so scared.”

“I’m okay,” I assure, kissing her palm. “What happened then?”

“Um…” She stretches to grab a Kleenex from a table and dabs at her eyes and nose with it. “The ambulance took you and your driver brought me here, stayed outside the door until your brother got here. He phoned your brother and he came right over. I gave a statement to the police. They said they’ll come back this morning to see if you’re awake to ask you some questions. Tony came, from your club. He’s outside right now and Will and another guy are in the cafeteria meeting with someone. I think Will said his name was Rossi. I have your phone, wallet and keys in my purse.”

A nurse pokes her head in. “Ah. Sleeping beauty awakens,” she says with a smile, approaching the bed.

61

Violet

We’re back at Killian’s place and I’m carrying a tray holding a bowl of chicken and rice soup, a single-serving bottle of ginger ale, and a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. He’s talking on his phone, but eyes me with a very serious expression as I approach.

“Yeah, we’ll talk then. Thanks. Bye.” He puts the phone down and warmth floods his expression as I set the tray on the nightstand.

“Try to eat a little?” I suggest.

“Yeah, okay.” He lifts the sandwich and takes a bite.

His jaw is swollen, he’s got a goose egg on the back of his head, and his torso and legs are bruised from the kicking, but all in all, his injuries aren’t too terrible, considering how badly it could’ve gone. Though of course, I’m still shook by how terrifying it all was.

I was there when he gave his statement to the police, stating he didn’t remember anything, before he was sent for some scans at the hospital, then discharged.

“Any idea who it was yet?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He finishes chewing and swallows before answering. “It’s being looked into. Cops are checking camera surveillance in the area.”

“Was that the police on the phone?” I ask, passing him the ginger ale bottle with the straw in it. He leans over and sips it and then puts his head back on the pillow, shaking his head as I set the drink down on the table beside him.

“That was Tommy. My guys are looking into it, so are his. There’s a possibility it has nothing to do with me.” He winces and gets more comfortable.

I caress his arm. “Want some pain medication? You’re allowed to have some now.”

He shakes his head. “No. Hate that shit.”

I tilt my head curiously. “So, nothing to do with you? It didn’t seem random.”

It seemed highly personal to me the way they kicked him over and over.

“There’s a guy that’s being a thorn in the side of Dario’s family because of stuff that has nothing to do with me. Remember the asshole in Genesis that made a scene the night I first took you there?”

I nod.

“Think it’s the same guy. Sounds like he has old intel, thinks I’m still affiliated. Their family were my original investors, but I bought them out. This guy’s goin’ around to anybody affiliated with them and making their lives difficult. He’s making a point.”

“Oh?”

“Or, I wasn’t the target and they mistook me for Tommy Ferrano. We’re not sure which.”

Tommy Ferrano, Dario’s brother, is tall and dark haired like Killian. His wife is dark haired, though her hair isn’t as dark as mine and hers is straight where mine isn’t. Is it possible it was a case of mistaken identity?

“Not a hundred percent, but it’s a good chance it’s who they think it is and if that’s the case, it’s not mine to deal with, though that chaps my ass.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if it’s their issue, they’ll deal. I don’t like letting other people deal with my problems, but if it was a case of bad intel or mistaken identity, they’ll want to deal with it themselves.”

“What about the police?”

He looks at me in a way that I instantly know comes from him thinking I’m naïve. And I guess I am, because to me, you let the cops deal with stuff. That’s what you’re supposed to do, anyway.

“The police aren’t likely to figure any of this out before the Ferrano family does. They’re well-connected and the cops tend to stay out of their way unless it’s something they really have to wade into. If this situation is what it’s looking like, it’s theirs to deal with and the Ferrano family will deal with it.”

I frown.

And there’s silence stretching between us. It’s like he’s looking me over for a reaction.

“What’s on your mind?” he finally asks.

Okay, out with it then.

“Are you into organized crime, Killian?”

He grabs my hand. “No.”

I search his face. I don’t think he’s telling me everything.

“Are you keeping me on a need-to-know basis?”

“Yes,” he immediately says.

I frown some more.

“Trust me,” he requests and the look in his eyes stops me cold.

I say nothing.

“You have become the most important person in my life quickly, Violet. Can I ask you to trust me?”

The most important person in his life? I’m shocked.

He cups my jaw and caresses the apple of my cheek with his thumb. I lean in and feel my eyes drift closed, emotion engulfing me as he adds, “I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t put you in any dangerous situation. Can you trust me? Please? Even if that’s hard?”

“It’s not hard,” I reply instantly. “I trust you, Killian.”

Tension leaves his face.

“Do you want some soup?” I lean over and lift the spoon and put it in.

“Not too hungry.”

He sits up a little, so I lift the bowl closer and hold the spoon out. “Just a little? I made it for you from almost scratch.”

He gets a twinkle in his eye as I feed it to him.

“I like this,” he says after swallowing, his voice dropping to a lower octave.

“My soup?”

“Yeah, but not just that. This.”

“Me taking care of you?” I ask.

“Yeah. Waking up to you. Having you here. Having you look after me. Nobody has ever done that. Not since my grandmother. But she didn’t baby me. She knew the family I was born into, I’d have to learn self-sufficiency. So I did.”

“No? Not when you were sick?”

He shakes his head. “My mother wasn’t motherly.”

“That’s sad. Every child needs some babying, at least sometimes.”

I get a slightly sad smile and a shrug from him. Killian doesn’t feel sorry for himself; it’s clear he doesn’t blame his upbringing on his problems. Unlike Ray. Ray used any crutch he could as an excuse. What polar opposites they are.

“Another bite?” I offer.

He opens his mouth and I spoon some in and then he leans back.

“That’s awesome, baby.”

“Glad you like it. I used wild rice instead of noodles. Makes it more interesting, I think.”

“One more bite and that’s all I can manage.”

I give him that, then tuck him in a little bit and I kiss his forehead. His fingers tangle into my hair briefly before he kisses my mouth, holding me there an extra-long beat.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“For what?”

“For what you went through last night,” he says softly, eyes fiery with emotion.

I can’t tell if it’s anger, pain, or what, but it makes my heart skip a beat.

“It’s not your fault. You gonna sleep for a bit?” I ask, rubbing my nose against the side of his.

“Gonna try,” he replies softly. “Climb in with me. Put something on television.”

“Halloween movie? Beetlejuice?” I suggest.

“Whatever you want. Just wanna feel you here.”

I climb in, snuggle up, and kiss his jaw on the non-bruised side, doing my best not to touch anything that might hurt.

“I called my boss,” I say, “Told her what happened. She says I can work remotely for a few days this week to take care of you.”

“Yeah? In that case, tomorrow we should drive to my other place.”

“What other place?”

“Got a place right on the water near Tillamook. We can relax there.”

“Is there Wi-Fi?”

“Yep.”

“Then I can do that.”

“Cool,” he says, eyes lighting up. “We’ll go in the morning. I’ll have Patricia get it stocked for groceries.” He grabs his phone and taps out a message.

“Okay.” I nuzzle in. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s a pit. Bought it a few months ago, but haven’t got far. Spot is gorgeous. House is huge and has good bones, but needs a lot of work to update it. Large lot. Water right there. I think you’ll like it. There’s a barn, big workshop, room for a garden. Maybe even a vegetable stand at the end of the driveway…” He lets that hang and when my face goes hot, he smiles and wiggles his eyebrows.  He’s talking about my little girl dream of having a place like that.

He chuckles. “Don’t look so freaked, Violet. I’d love your take on décor. Already got work underway in the basement, but the main floor and upstairs, could certainly use a woman’s input.”

“Let me guess… man cave basement?” I ask.

He smiles wide. “Completely. Well, it will be when it’s done. Already got construction started.”

“So typical,” I roll my eyes lightheartedly.

He chuckles again and then groans and grabs his side.

“Rest. We’ll tell jokes later,” I say and kiss him.

He turns into me as I search the TV menu for the movie and a moment later, I look over and he’s asleep, mouth nuzzled into my shoulder.

I bite my lip and snuggle in some more.

He’s just too perfect.

And when he was mostly unconscious at the hospital, he said, “Violet, I love you.”

It’s too soon for that. And he had a head injury so I can’t take much from it – or I shouldn’t.  But, I have. I’ve taken a lot from it. His first thought when he woke in the hospital was me. He wanted to know I’m okay. He wanted his brother to look after me.

It’s definitely too soon for the L-word. But I can’t help but be excited about the idea of him saying it again.

I feel like I’m about to burst into tears. I’ve been holding it together as best as I can since last night, but it was terrifying, seeing him get swarmed, hearing the sound of the shovel hitting him, watching him fall to the ground. Getting yanked back by an unknown man.

“Throw her in the back!”

Sound of gun cocking… (I think)

“Not him…”

I hear it now in my mind and it dawns. They were going to take me.  It didn’t even fully occur to me until now, things happened so fast.

Thank God for Killian’s driver or maybe he would’ve been left on the road for dead. Or even shot. And I could’ve been taken. Where? Why?

Was it a case of mistaken identity where we were mistaken for Tommy and Tia Ferrano? Was that really a gun I heard being cocked?

I’m shaking and that wakes Killian. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I’m startled that he was so tuned in to the shift in me.

“I think it was a case of mistaken identity,” I say. “They were going to throw me in the back of the car. I heard one of them say that, and I heard the cock of a gun and then someone said ‘not him’ before your driver fired a gun and scared them off.”

He sits up sharply.  “Anything else?”

I shake my head. “It just sort of came back to me now that I’ve relaxed I guess. It all happened so fast.”

“Nothing else? You sure?”

I comb through my  memory.

My phone making noise pulls me from my daze.

“That’s all I remember,” I say.

“Okay.” He kisses me and pulls me tight to him for a minute before he rises, taking me with him.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Calling Tommy Ferrano. Dario’s gone on his honeymoon. Gimme some privacy for a minute, baby?”

I grab my phone, seeing I missed a text from my mother, asking how he’s doing. I’d called her from the hospital this morning to give her the basics of what happened. I head out of his room to the living area and sit down to reply to her, tell her he’s home and he’s okay.

It feels like that wasn’t a random attack last night, but the news that it might have to do with organized crime, that’s not exactly settling. Killian’s words about not being involved, though? I’m not sure how to feel. I do trust him; he’s given me no reason not to. It’s good he’s calling his friends to warn them, just in case whoever that was decides to try again. But I’m also wondering how smart it is of me to let myself be on a ‘need to know’ basis.

***

Monday

We’re pulling up to an old sprawling waterfront home.

I’m driving Killian’s SUV and I’ve packed enough clothes for us for a few days along with both our laptops. Killian told me Patricia placed an order with a local grocer who would deliver between five and five thirty. On our way, I’ve stopped at work and grabbed my laptop as well as stopped at my apartment to check my mail.

We arrive at five twenty and I see a teenaged boy is unloading grocery bags from a pickup truck.

I take in the sights and I’m in awe of it. The house is a sprawling one and a half story white board and batten home with a massive wraparound porch. I can see it’s sprawling as it’s been added onto, though just on the main level. The original home is a typical farmhouse. There’s an upper floor balcony overlooking the water. Behind it, there’s a big modern garage and an older barn. And lots of property.

“Hey. You Mister Coulter?” The teenager calls out. “You want this stuff brought inside?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” I answer instead. “He’s just out of the hospital and I don’t want him carrying anything.”

Killian steps out of the passenger seat of the SUV. “First, she drives my ride and now she’s tryin’ to stop me from carryin’ shit. You got my balls in your purse, too, Violet? I might want ‘em back later.”

He smiles. He’s teasing me.

The teenager laughs and Killian passes him a key to open the front door.

“I just disarmed the alarm. Straight down the hall and to your right. Just pile it all on the counters, man.”

“Sure thing,” the boy says.

I reach into the back seat for my laptop bag and overnight bag. Killian takes the overnight bag from me and scorches me with a look as he carries it and his overnight bag with him toward the house.

He’s moving like he’s not injured but I’m sure he’s got to be feeling it. His body is so covered in bruises it can’t possibly not hurt.

He would only let me give him Tylenol at dawn when he was restless and couldn’t sleep.  And not even the Tylenol with codeine; just regular old Tylenol. He’s not a cooperative patient. I can see he doesn’t like feeling vulnerable.

“Don’t be so difficult. Then again, at least I know my future isn’t going to be inundated with pathetic cases of the Man Flu,” I said as a positive that morning and that got me a chuckle from him.

“Glad you’re a glass-half-full gal, Dimples,” he replied as he kissed me.

The water is anything but calm. It’s a dreary day with grey skies and a chill in the air. The property is neglected, and the house looks like it needs some love, but wow, this place could really be something.

“This place, Killian!” I exclaim.

“Needs a little TLC. But the spot is great. Lots of space. Didn’t know if I wanted to renovate it or build new, but decided to renovate for now.”

“It’s amazing,” I say, taking it all in. “I’m glad you haven’t torn it down. This place has huge potential.”

He’s staring, intently.

I smile and his expression brightens.

“Could you see yourself here some weekends, summers?” he asks.

I startle and he chuckles. He’s teasing me. I think.

I smile while I shake my head and give him an assessing look. “Killian Coulter, you have got no chill,” I tell him.

He smirks. “Where you’re concerned? Zero.”

“I can take that.” I reach for my bag. “All I’m carrying is my purse and laptop bag.”

“Forget it. Get inside. You’re lucky I have no free hands or I’d swat this ass.”

I raise my brows. “You’re recovering. Behave.”

“I promise nothing and will likely deliver even less,” he mutters, eyes on my butt.

I snicker as we step inside together and definitely, this place needs some love, but screams potential.

The furnishings are old, not much of them in the front of the house, and what’s here must have been left from the previous owners. The great room is wood paneled walls with a massive grey stone fireplace. There are lots of windows and a lovely view of the water.

To the side of the great room, a staircase climbs up and a hallway leads back deeper into the house.

“How big is this house?”

“About seventy-five hundred square feet. Was owned by a large family that kept building onto the original structure, which we’re in. The upstairs used to be three bedrooms but converted to one big one and a massive bathroom. They kept building onto the back and adding multiple living spaces. Got three kitchens. Six bathrooms. There’s an apartment over the garage. A small granny flat Bunkie at the back of the property, too. Basement has a full apartment, too, but it’s old and shit, so it’s bein’ gutted. I’m renovating from down there upwards. Get my man cave done first.”

“Typical,” I tease, “But that’s a whole lotta space for a weekend and summer getaway. My parents used to rent the same cottage for a week every year down the coast from here and it was only a little bigger than my apartment. Puny. And half the time we’d have all our cousins, friends and family come, air mattresses taking up every square inch to fit us all. Sometimes we’d pitch tents outside, the cabin was so overflowing. So much fun.”

The boy with the groceries walks past us, on his second trip with another box and bags dangling off his wrists.

“It does sound fun,” Killian says with a small smile. “Didn’t know any of my cousins. Woulda liked growing up like that. I’ll get the fire started,” he adds, heading to the big fireplace. “Place needs a new furnace. We’ve got four fireplaces, though. And some baseboard heaters if we need ‘em.”

There’s a long old couch and a battered coffee table in front of the big fireplace, but not much else in the room. Beyond the staircase, I see a huge dining area with another weathered table, this one with eight chairs covered with pink upholstery.  Some of the pale pink and mint green floral wallpaper is peeling. I find a bathroom beyond the dining room and use it. It’s got an antique pedestal sink and the mirror is definitely ancient, blackened in some spots. I look out the window at the water lapping at the rocky shoreline. This place – I’m in love with the potential.

After washing my hands, I go right and find a huge but outdated kitchen. I’m a bit in love with it, though. It’s a massive family kitchen with a fireplace. I can pick out part of the original house that was extended at some stage, clearly the first addition.

There’s a massive butcher’s block table in the middle with a dozen stools around it and to the side, a big fireplace with a cooking section. I can imagine Killian using it to make pizza.

“This is definitely the heart of this place,” I say. “I love it. Pizza oven? No wonder you bought this place.”

He reaches into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water.

“Make you pizza tomorrow. From scratch.” He kisses my temple. “No pineapple,” he adds under his breath. “Fuckin’ abomination.”

“If loving pineapple on my pizza is wrong, I’ll never be right.” I shake my head robustly.

He snickers.

The teenager comes back, saying, “Last box,” after he deposits it on the butcher’s block. Killian reaches out and shakes his hand, handing him cash while he does it. “Much appreciated.”

“Thanks, man.” He eyeballs the cash in his hand and his eyes light up. “And I’m John.  You think you need help with anything else? Here’s my number. You want me to come, cut your grass, do any handyman work, need anything dropped off, lemme know. I’m savin’ for college.” He pulls a business card from his back pocket and palms it to the counter and then smiles at me. “Have a good time, guys.”

“I’ll definitely be callin’ you, John,” Killian says. “In fact, I’ll walk you out.”

“Thank you,” I call out.

John waves and Killian heads out with him, saying, “Got a lot of shit to do here and will definitely be able to use some help.”

They’re gone, so I eyeball the supplies. There are a lot of them. A lot. I start unbagging a large selection of meat. Some of this will probably have to come back to Portland with us. We’re not going to be here more than a few days. Even though Shara said I can take up to a week working remotely, I don’t want to take the whole week, don’t want to seem like I’m taking advantage. And I haven’t done anything yet today, so will be on my laptop soon trying to get some work done.

Killian is back.

“Way too much food here; we’re only here for a bit,” I say and then I open the fridge and see plenty of items already in there. I open the freezer and it, too, has supplies. It’s about half full with meat, frozen entrees, a half bottle of vodka.

“Um… what’s all this?”

“I spent the week here. The other week, when we were… uh…” He scratches his temple.

“Oh.” Realization dawns. When he wasn’t around that week. “You weren’t away on business?”

“I was giving you space. Giving me space, I…” His expression darkens, “malfunctioned. I took a couple days to reflect.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not malfunctioning now,” he says and pulls me into his arms. “Told Patricia to make sure there was a lot of apple juice.” He puts his lips to mine and his voice has gone husky.

“Apple juice?” I whisper against his mouth.

“Mm hm,” he says and then he lifts me up by the hips and sets me on the counter.

My belly flipflops.

“You shouldn’t be lifting me.”

This is a different countertop than the one he wanted to christen when he asked me to move in, but it still feels pretty poignant.

“Arms aren’t broken, Violet.”

“No, but…”

“I know my limits, baby, I like that you’re worried about me, though. So, hey…” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear with his fingertips and I shiver. He smiles, looking like he likes that reaction. “I got a call from my doctor’s office after I saw John to his truck. My STD test came back clear.”

I smile. “I’ve gotta call my doctor and follow up.”

He leans in closer and growls into my ear. “Do that.”

“I’ll call now,” I say.

As he passes over my purse from the opposite counter, his phone rings. He looks at the screen and rejects the call.

“Do it now,” he orders while kissing my neck and gripping my hips.

“Even if I get a yes, you should probably recover a few days, and…”

“No fucking way I’m going days without being inside you, especially not if I can be inside you completely.” He winks.

My eyes boing and I bite my lower lip.

He nods as if to drive the message home and then jerks his chin to my phone.

“Nothing wrong with my cock, baby,” he adds. “In fact, I’d say Killer is fightin’ fit.”

I burst out laughing and his gaze goes from dark to light. To having so much light.

I scroll through my phone and find my doctor’s office.

“Gotta return that call and check on a few things. Then I’ll give you the tour. Can you handle putting this stuff away?”

I smile. “Absolutely.”

“Stay here. No wandering,” he mutters and kisses me. “I wanna show you the house myself.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

***

“So?” he asks. “What’s the verdict on this kitchen?”

“I love it. I am having visions of how amazing it could be with that fireplace, that view, all this space…”

I’ve gotten all the food and other supplies away and I’m sitting on the counter looking out the window while drinking a cup of tea.

“Oh, and four jugs of apple juice? Someone sure thinks they’re getting all kinds of lucky,” I say.

He gives me a big smile. “I won’t be the only one getting lucky.”

“True,” I say with a giggle.  “Want tea?” I hop down.

“Naw. Get ahold of your doctor?” he asks.

“They’re gonna call me back. It’s late so that might be tomorrow.”

“Bummer,” he says and then I’m on the counter again, squeaking out my surprise.

He pulls a condom from his pocket and tears the corner of the wrapper with his teeth before he leans in to drop a kiss on my mouth.

He reaches down and our eyes are locked as he frees himself and rolls it on. My jeans are quickly undone and falling around my ankles with my undies. As my head rolls back with sensation, I’m pulled forward while being filled with him.

God, he feels good. And the way he looks at me as he sinks inside? A girl could get a big ego being looked at like this.

He’s fucking me hard and fast, a little rough, but then he grabs my face and stares into my eyes, holding my jaw with his left hand, putting his right between my legs, before he slows. He slows the pace of plunging into me over and over to a delicious crawl while he presses against and circles my clit.

I’ve got my hands on his shoulders, my teeth embedded into my bottom lip, and I’m whimpering while our eyes are locked.

“Good?” he asks.

“You feel so good,” I tell him.

His lips part and then his mouth comes a hairsbreadth away from mine. “Nothing feels as good as you. Nothing and no one.”

“I feel the same,” I say.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Am I the best you’ve ever had?” He kisses me.

I nod. “The very best,” I tell him, before getting rewarded with a quickening pace on my clit that sends me into a blinding orgasm. I come, trembling around his cock as he drives it into me over and over, burying my face into his shoulder as I whimper some more. A few more strokes and then he grunts out an orgasm, too.

He lifts me and carries me, my legs wrapped around him, his cock still inside, until we’re on the couch in front of the crackling fire.

He slides out, disappears out of the room and when he returns, curls up with me, covering us with the blanket, and in no time he’s sleeping, holding me close.

Wow.

***

I slide out a little while later and he doesn’t budge. He’s out.

I set up my laptop and get online and spend just over two hours doing a bunch of work before he sits up and stretches.

My productivity levels were on fire for those two hours and I got a lot done.

He jerks upright out of the blue, looking panicky. He sees me and immediately relaxes. “There you are.”

“Hiya,” I greet.

“Hungry,” he mutters.

“Let’s just make it easy. Have some sandwiches, maybe?” I suggest.

“A little hungrier than that, baby.” He winces.

“You sore? You want Tylenol?”

He shakes his head. “My own fault for fucking you on that counter. Carrying you.”

I shake my head and wag my finger at him. “Bad patient. Stop being a big shot. What do you want to eat? Breakfast for dinner. Bacon and eggs, maybe? I can whip that up in five minutes.”

“Works for me. Want to do a quick tour first?”

“Sure.”

“Be right back,” he heads to the closest bathroom as I close all my work stuff off and power down.

Killian then walks me through room after room. It looks like a multigenerational family shared this space and I love that idea – that the bigger the family got, the more they kept adding on, while keeping it open at the same time. There are no doors between the different living spaces and I can imagine how fun it must have been for cousins to have access to one another, for siblings and cousins to spend time together here. Having all this space for hide and seek, enjoying sleepovers with blanket forts in here, campfires outside.

There are so many rooms and hallways that I know it’ll take time to get used to the layout, but I’m having visions as I walk through with him.

By the time we’re done with the main floor and second floor, I’m brimming with redecorating ideas. Killian talks about certain walls that could come down, making it more open concept, talking about one of the large living spaces on the very back being perfect for an indoor pool. We get back to the original part of the house and adjacent to a back door that leads to the porch, he opens an older dark wood door and leads me downstairs to the basement.

When we get to the bottom of the stairs, it’s a disaster zone, filled with construction material and I see that there’s been some demolition of some walls down there. Piles of rubble. Tools and ladders everywhere. It’s a mess.

Killian cusses. “Fuck sakes. This place is a hazard.” Instead of taking me through, he leads me back upstairs. “I told the construction crew to halt work for this week since we’d be here, but what a fuckin’ mess. Don’t go down there. It looks like an accident waiting to happen. I’ll show the rest of it to you after the next level of work gets done. Fuck sakes. Can you start on dinner? I’ll be right in to help. Need to make a call.”

He gets on his phone and steps outside, irritated.

A minute or two later, he’s in the kitchen with me.

“You talk to your contractor?” I ask.

“Fuckin’ guy. I’m cheesed. Forget about it for now. What do you want me to cook?”

“You can fry the bacon if you want. I’ll fry some eggs and tomatoes, make some toast.”

I make toast in the old fashioned circa 1950s oven, since there’s no toaster. After we eat, we cuddle up in front of my laptop and watch Hocus Pocus.

A while later, we move to the master bedroom and he starts another fire and teases me as I put on A Nightmare on Elm Street. I tell him I’m nearly through my Halloween movie rotation and then he’ll get a brief reprieve before I start on my Christmas movie rotation. I then say that I really want him to come to my parents’ house for Halloween. We decorate the house and everyone in the family hangs out around the fire pit to hand out candy to the trick or treaters. Uncle Hugh dresses like the headless horseman every year and terrorizes us.

***

Freddy Kruger messes with my head like he does every Halloween, and I find that I wake up frequently, conscious of every noise from outside. It’s pretty cool to sleep listening to the water hit the shore and then when a thunderstorm wakes me and I’m up for the third time tonight, I realize I’m alone.

I check my phone. Two o’clock in the morning.

Where is he?

It’s such a huge house that it dawns that intercoms will probably be a necessity. I go no further than the kitchen, staying in the original part of the house, before I hear footsteps approaching.

I turn around and Killian and I both startle.

“Shit!” I gasp, grabbing for my chest. He grabs me and his face splits into a smile. “What’re you doing?”

“I woke up alone with the thunder, so I went looking for you.”

“Let’s go back to bed.”

“Where were you?” I ask.

“Just checking out some of the shit downstairs after the power flickered. Absolute disaster down there. I’m kinda pissed about it.”

“Problems?”

He waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to bed.”

He lifts me up into his arms and carries me up the stairs.

He’s got heat in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t carry me,” I say, “You’ve got injuries.”

“I’m good. I’ll be better in about two minutes when my face is in between your thighs.”

I smile. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, Killian Coulter.”

“But do you like it?” he asks, his voice husky.

“I certainly do,” I whisper, my voice coming out in a similar tone.

“Good. Because this dirty mouth is gonna be all over you in a minute.”

As soon as my back hits the mattress in the big sleigh bed, Killian’s mouth is between my legs.

I climax quickly, and the sensation becomes a little overpowering, so I try to pull my legs shut, but he grips my legs wide open and then rams his fingers inside as he keeps assaulting my clit with his mouth. My orgasm rolls into a double and I’m crying out loudly when I hear the casters rolling on the nightstand and then the tear of the condom package.

“Good you were equipped.”

“Mm hm,” he replies as he lines up.

And I catch myself pondering… wondering how many other women have been here, this bedroom is old, too, in décor, but this is a brand-new bed we’re in. How many women have been in this bed? Jessa? That girl Kenya from his hallway in the trench coat? Others? Was he as possessive and doting with them as he’s been with me? As I’m pondering this thought, he’s slamming inside, eyes on me.

The lamp is on and it provides next-level intimacy as he watches what he does to me, as he rains kisses across my mouth, over my earlobes, as his fingers pinch at my nipples, pulling sensations from me while I rock against him, feeling him stretching me.

If this is all for me, all this eye contact, all this emotion coming at me, I’m the luckiest girl in the world. But even if he’s been like this with others, I’m still lucky.

I squeeze around him, and this earns me a sound of satisfaction before his pace quickens and then he’s ramming, hard, fast, deep, chasing an orgasm with our eyes locked.

“I don’t know if I’m the best you’ve ever had, Killian, but I’m gonna try to be.”

His lip curls, he hisses, and then he’s holding my jaw, staring deep into my eyes as he slowly exhales with a groan, coming.

“Wow,” I say, running my hand up the back of his neck.

“I love you, Violet,” he whispers against my lips, and then his lips touch mine. “And you are the best. The absolute best. The only one I want. The only one I’ve ever said those three words to.”

I burst into tears.

The beauty of this moment. Of him. Of us.

He leans back, looking concerned as he holds my face.

“I’ve never been in love before, but I’m so in love with you, Dimples,” he says.

“I love you, too,” I whisper. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

His lips crash into mine again, he flips me, and then I’m gathered in his arms as he throws the blankets over us and kisses my nose, my eyelids, and then my lips again.

“Want me to reach over and get the light?”

“No.”

“Why? Afraid of the dark?” I ask with a smile. “Freddy Kruger get in your head, too?”

“No. I want to look at you while you sleep and I don’t want to wait for the sun to rise to do it.”

I squirm into him. “That mouth. Dirty words. Sweet words. You’ve got all the right words, Killian.”

“You know there’s no way you’re not officially moved in with me, right?”

I look into his eyes and bite my lip for a second before I whisper, “Right.”

He kisses me again. “Good. Glad that’s settled. You’re mine. All mine, Violet.”

I smile and cuddle in.

“Say it,” he whispers.

“Say it?” I inquire.

“That you’re mine.”

“And are you mine?” I ask.

“One hundred percent.”

“I’m yours, Killian,” I say. “All yours.”

“Mm. I love you, Violet. Sleep, baby.”

“I love you, Killian. And okay,” I say.

And then I lay there smiling in Killian’s arms.

“You sleeping?” he asks a long while later.

“Nope,” I answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m too busy smiling,” I say and nuzzle in.

He chuckles and then kisses me breathless.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask.

“Because I wanna fuck you again.”

“Go for it,” I invite.

After he does that, I pass out.

***

I’m looking through the cupboards, which have some odds and ends, and I find six cans of dog food.

“Was this left here?” I ask.

Killian cranes his neck to look over.

“Hm. Do you see a dog?”

I laugh. “Didn’t know if you had some secret puppy hiding you were about to give me.”

“Is that something you’d want?” he asks.

I laugh. “Maybe some day. Not anytime soon, though. Puppies are a lot of work. I should chuck it.” I lift a can out and look for the expiry date. “Oh, doesn’t expire for two years. Maybe donate them to an animal shelter.”

“Good idea,” he says and resumes stirring the sauce.

“Found it,” I say, holding the carton of baking soda he had me hunt down.

“Perfect,” he says and then he opens it and puts a teaspoon into his pizza sauce and begins stirring it. I watch it foam up and bubble before calming down while he stirs. He reduces the heat, stirs it again, and holds out the spoon. “Taste it.”

I taste the sauce and make an “Mm” sound before dabbing my mouth with a piece of paper towel.

He tastes from the spoon, too. “Better,” he says. “Took the tartness down a notch.”

“What about this?” I hold up a can of pineapple.

He points at me. “Do not open that can.”

“Aww, c’mon. Just on my half.”

“Woman, you’re insane. And you’ve got no taste.”

I bark out laughter.

“Except for my taste in men?” I ask.

“Well…” he holds his hand out flat and tilts it. “Fifty percent good taste, fifty percent… eh.”

I bark out a laugh and then it dies.

“Too soon?” he asks.

I scrunch up my nose. “Yeah. Too soon.” I wave my hand. “I don’t wanna talk about him at all. I’ve spent enough energy on him.”

“Too much,” he corrects.

“Yup,” I say and then I pour myself another glass of wine and top his glass up.

It’s been a great day. We took a walk along the property this morning. He showed me the big garage, the granny flat, and took me to the edge of the woods out back where the property line is, at the start of denser woods.

“We should totally come here and get a Christmas tree when it’s time. There are some great trees here,” I said.

“The people that owned it did the same every year, the real estate agent said, that’s why there are so many planted. Maybe we’ll spend Christmas here,” he said.

I smiled brightly.  “My parents would love me to be home, though.”

“We can do both. Wake up here and then drive to their place?”

I nodded. “That sounds awesome. We’ll need to bring a tree to your apartment, too.”

“Our apartment,” he whispered against my temple before dropping a kiss. “Give your landlord notice when we get back.”

I couldn’t stop smiling all the way back to the house. He made us pancakes for breakfast and then we both got to work, in the living room with our laptops, him working on stuff for his business, and me doing my job. And it was a companionable time, an old radio playing seventies soul music, a crackling fire, and both of us doing our thing.

I feel so much happiness with him I can hardly fathom it. Looking at the bruising on his face though, the reality of how things could’ve gone the other night hits me repeatedly, making my pulse race, making my blood run cold.

I catch him looking at me occasionally, too. Most times he’s just studying me and I can’t get a read on it, but when I smile at him, it seems to break a spell and then he smiles, too.

“Am I an enigma?” I ask, catching him staring.

“Nope. I just like looking at you. What do you want for dinner tonight?” he asks me.

“Hmm,” I ponder. “We can just eat the rest of the pizza.”

“Or we could go out. There’s a little steakhouse ten minutes from here.”

“Ooh, awesome. I’ll get changed.”

I’m glad I brought a semi-nice outfit as well as jeans, sweats, and yoga clothes with me.

As I’m getting ready, my phone rings. My doctor’s office.

My STD test is all clear.

62

Killian

Dinner with Violet at a local restaurant would seem to anyone like a simple thing, but to me, it’s more. She’s focused on me, the scenery, talking excitedly about things we can do to spruce the house up. Her face is lit up, I get dimples, and I see once again how she’s kind to everyone she meets. The waitress, an old man that smiles at her, a kid in a highchair with ketchup all over his face that keeps waving at her. She waves back and keeps making silly faces at him to get him to laugh.

And the way she’s talking, about us painting things, about her helping me do things, it’s endearing and fascinating to me. She talks about repainting the old furniture instead of buying new shit. She talks about sanding with me, painting with me, instead of hiring someone to come in and do it. She’s spent the past five minutes talking about how she can refinish the staircase.

“You know,” I cut in, “I was planning to hire someone to fix it all up. You can just pick what you want out of a catalogue and the next time we go…” I snap my fingers, “it’ll be done.”

Her face falls. She looks disappointed.

And I can’t help but smile wide. She’s beautiful. Fucking beautiful.

“Baby,” I call out and reach for her hand. She puts hers in mine and looks at me with full attention. I’m all she sees. That’s how she looks at me, and I can’t get enough of it.

“Do you wanna fix up the house ourselves?”

Her lips part, but she looks embarrassed.

And I decide that yes, I want that. I wanna see her take on our oceanside getaway, even if I’ve got to help her do it. I want her painting a table we’ll eat our meals at. I want her picking out pieces of art and furniture from adventures we take together to find things she’ll want to surround us.

“I’d be happy to let you do it if you wanna.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like a pain in the ass to you?”

I shake my head.

It probably will be a pain in my ass, but I can endure it if it makes her happy.

The condo is perfection to her and it’s all polished and done, but she likes to ‘upcycle’ and go antiquing and so I’ve decided she can do whatever the fuck she wants with the place in Tillamook. If it’s a pet project she’ll enjoy doing, making it a space for us, who am I to burst her bubble? Besides, I’ll be there with her, watching her enjoy herself and that’s good enough for me.

“Seventy-five hundred square feet - consider it your canvas. Paint it up.” I throw out a hand. “Whatever you want. You want a pro in to do something, you tell me and I’ll hire someone. You wanna do something, you can do it. You wanna buy something, tell me and I’ll pay for it. The only shit I don’t wanna do ourselves is plumbing or electrical. Plumbing, because it’s dirty and mistakes can mean a fuckin’ mess and electrical, because I’d never wanna cut a corner on something that could mean a fire hazard when we’re not there or heaven forbid, someday down the road, when it’s me and you and our kids sleeping in the house.”

She jiggles excitedly in her chair. And then her face changes, goes shocked. And it’s got to be because of my ‘our kids’ comment.

Her face is lit up, still, though, and then she sips her Coke.

“Except the basement. That’s all yours?” she inquires.

“Yeah. Let me worry about that.”

I definitely don’t want her down there right now.

“Want dessert?” I ask as the waitress leaves with our plates, saying she’ll be back with a dessert menu.

Violet shakes her head. “Not here, I don’t. I didn’t tell you… I have the all-clear from my doctor’s office.”

My eyes widen. “When did you find that out?”

“Just before we left,” she replies.

I shake my head. “And you didn’t tell me immediately? We could’ve already-”

“Shh,” she hushes me, looking around embarrassed.

I reach under the table and find her knee briefly before my hand slides up. “You’re in serious need of a spanking, Dimples.”

She flashes me the dimples.

The waitress is back with dessert menus.

“No thanks,” Violet says, eyes lit up. “Just the check.”

I give her a look of promise.

***

She’s under me, naked, and I’m inside her. I’m inside the woman I love with nothing between us. And I’m staring into her eyes, which are wet with emotion. She’s just come, and the sheets are also wet because I made her come so hard she squirted. And now she's crying, staring into my eyes, into my soul, even. And it's almost unnerving. Or it would be if I wasn't so fucking addicted to staring contests with her. We both stare endlessly, and it feels like we both win.

I wouldn’t let up finger-fucking her while sucking on her clit until she squirted, my name coming out of her mouth like a prayer.

She's slightly embarrassed, I think, so to take her mind off that, I kiss her breathless while I pull back and slide my cock inside her again. “Fuck, you feel good, Violet. Do you know how beautiful you are?” I ask.

She wraps her arms and legs around me and buries her face in my neck, shyly.

“Do you know how mine you are?” I demand, cupping her chin to bring her face away from my neck so I can gaze into her gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. “I love you, baby. You feel amazing."

"So do you," she breathes, fluttering her long lashes.

"Do the thing, Violet.”

She smiles and tightens around me.

“Yeah, that thing,” I say and then dip my tongue between her plump, red lips while swiveling my hips, which earns me the sweetest whimper as her sexy little tongue licks the tip of mine.

Later, I lean over and ask. “Nobody else make you squirt like that?”

“Nope. Never,” she whispers.

“Was it good?” I ask.

“You have no idea…” she says, squeezing my thigh.

I chuckle, supremely pleased even though her face is bright with embarrassment.

63

Violet

Killian and I are enjoying a quiet morning with coffee on a bench we moved from the garage to the front porch. We’re under a blanket and the water is calmer to look at today, but it’s definitely nippy out. We’re planning to leave soon, so I can be back at work for a few days and then come here again on the weekend. The past few days here at his lake house have been amazing. I feel so relaxed, it’s like it’s been a tonic for me. Something about the landscape, the smells, the quiet… it’s awesome.

His bruises still look angry, but he’s been in a good mood.

I’ve got about a million ideas for decorating this house and have been scouting antique shops online for the area as well as taking measurements of the rooms in the main original structure first as a starting point.

I’m about to get up and announce that I should start packing up our stuff when his phone rings. He slips it out of his pocket and rises. “Excuse me a sec, baby.” He disappears inside.

It’s nippy out here sitting still, but I don’t want to intrude on his conversation, so I decide to stroll down toward the water, figuring if I’m moving, I’ll warm up.

I’m smiling at the scenery from the shoreline a few minutes later when I feel his hands slip around my hips and he has me in an embrace, my back against his front. He kisses the shell of my ear. “I should buy a boat.”

My eyes light up.

“I’m not a materialistic person, Killian, never have been. But that’s a really great idea.”

He chuckles and squeezes me tighter. “It’s nice to have money. I haven’t always had it.”

I turn around in his arms and rub his jawline. He’s clean-shaven today and it makes the bruising stand out more, and the swirling bruise-colors make his eyes seem even more piercing green than usual.

“You grew up in a crappy building, you said. The same place as… him. Single mom or was your dad around?”

He moistens his lips. “My mother was broken. Too broken to look after us properly. Welfare. Food stamps. Sometimes traded those stamps for money for booze. My grandmother regularly stepped in. Took us for weekends. Bought us shoes and clothes. She didn’t have much either, but she did what she could. My mother didn’t even buy birthday or Christmas gifts. She’d spend every last dime she had on whatever abusive asshole she was dating. I was determined my life would be different. I don’t let myself go without.”

“What about your father?” I ask.

“Died when I was four or five. He was a biker. Motorcycle accident. Willie’s father was a good guy, but she cheated on him with her ex and he left.  He wanted to take Will and me with him, but she called the cops, lied about him hitting her, and he got arrested. Didn’t see him again.”

“Shit,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t talk about this stuff, baby, but I feel comfortable saying it to you.”

I squeeze him, showing my appreciation of his trust, I hope.

“Every asshole after that was worse than the last. And then the last one… they were off and on for a few years, until he killed her.”

My eyes dart up to meet his. I’m shocked.

“Killed her? She’s-”

“She’s dead. Died when I was seventeen. Iadanza didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head. “He only talked about how successful you were, how you weren’t someone to fuck over.”

He rolls his eyes. “Too bad he didn’t practice what he preached.”

I roll my eyes, too. “What happened, though?”

“My grandmother was already gone and I was nearly an adult. Dario’s father paid off the social worker who looked the other way to let me raise my brother. My brother stayed outta trouble, did well in school so it was just him and me after that.”

“Did the guy who hurt your mom go to jail?”

He stares at me for a long minute.

“He got away with it?” I ask, angry.

He cups my jaw. “He didn’t, but I don’t wanna talk about this shit. I wanna look ahead, not back. Look ahead to a future with you.”

I wrap both arms around his neck. “I’m sorry you lost so much, Killian. If you ever wanna talk, I’m here. If you never wanna talk about it, that’s okay, too, but it might help.”

“I gained a lot, Violet.  Sounds shit, but the end of that dysfunctional family was the start of better things for me. My mother didn’t give a shit about me or my brother. She cared about getting drunk and being codependent with whichever alcoholic bruiser she was with. The last one used to beat on her and scare the shit out of my little brother. We lived in a toxic apartment in a shitty building full of losers. I’m not glad my mother got her head caved in, but-”

I wince.

He keeps going.

“We were better afterwards. I was doing well with my business, so we lived somewhere nicer, and we were free of the bullshit. Will’s grades improved and his nightmares stopped.”

“I’m sorry it was so hard on you,” I say, thinking that Killian’s nightmares did not stop and knowing by the look in his eyes that he was only too happy to take that burden from his brother.

“You’re beautiful inside and out, Violet. I fucking love you, you know that? You’ve been through a shit time, too, and you’re just embracing life now. It’s a beautiful thing to see you blooming like a pretty flower instead of a sad one.”

I smile.

“You and me are a little alike that way,” he adds. “We were stuck in situations that sucked the life from us. Once we were out of it, we both got a chance to thrive.”

“I guess so, yeah. But I didn’t go through a lifetime of crap. Before three years ago, I had a very normal life. My parents are working class, but we always had enough to eat, gifts, nice clothes, took a vacation once a year. They’re kind and gentle people, always put me and my brother first. They’re better off financially now than they were when I was a kid, but I’ve been really fortunate. My mother made sure we felt grateful, though, you know? We did chores for our allowance. I don’t take things for granted.”

“I can see that about you,” he says. “And it’s part of why I fell for you.”

“Your strength and protectiveness is part of why I fell for you,” I return.

He caresses my face. “You’ll never want for anything again if I have anything to say about it.”

I smile. “You’re so swoony.”

He gives me a surprised look and then his mouth tips up in a bit of a smirk.

“I’m sorry you had it rough growing up, Killian,” I say softly.

His face changes and I see pain there.

“I hope you never have to go through that kind of pain again,” I add. “The kind that makes you have trouble sleeping, or sleepwalk to protect people because you’re afraid to sleep and not be around in case something bad happens to them.”

“Fuckin’ kills me that something could’ve happened to you the other night.”

“I’m fine – just glad you’re okay.”

His expression darkens as he rubs his thumb across my cheekbone, weaving his fingers into my hair. “I wouldn’t have been if my driver wasn’t armed. And they might’ve taken you and –” He grinds his  teeth so hard I hear them squeak. “I fuckin’ hate that I can’t retaliate because someone else is already planning on that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We now know it was the fucker that’s causing all sorts of problems for the Ferranos, but at least they’ll deal with him.”

“Deal with him?”

“Damn straight. At least I know it’ll be dealt with. That’s something at least, though I’d much prefer to be part of doling out the retribution; this time that’s out of bounds for me.”

This makes me want to ask questions about the Ferrano family.

Just as I decide not to, he says, “Don’t ask. Let’s just say that’s not a family you mess with. Not without wishing you’d never heard of them by the time they’re done with you. Not without wishing you were dead before they’re done with you. They don’t usually make it quick. They make sure their enemies feel their retribution.”

“Yikes.”

Dario Ferrano and his brother look like male fitness models. Dario was such a doting groom with his beautiful bride. Does she know he’s mixed up in that?

Same with the other girls that were there – I wonder how those women reconcile themselves with living with men that live on the wrong side of the law.

I look at Killian and realize I still don’t know how much of his life is mixed up with things like that. He gives me a somber expression, I think, before tugging my hand and leading me back to the house.

“We grow from what we go through if we’re smart. It changes us. Some for the better, some not. All I can tell you is that I will do whatever is in my power to make sure you’re protected. That’s the kind of man you’re in love with Violet.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t.

“Ready to pack up and go home?” he asks as we climb the front steps of the house.

“If we must,” I mutter.

“Like it here, do you?”

“Love it. But I need to work the next two days and then maybe we can come back.”

“Sure.”

“Mom said they’re having a family dinner next Sunday with Grampa. Can I say we’ll be there? If you’ve got something to do, I could just –”

“We’ll be there,” he leans over and kisses me. “Can you pack our stuff up in the bedroom without me? I wanna check on a couple things downstairs before we go.”

“Yeah, sure. Is your contractor coming back tomorrow?”

“Most likely. I just need to check a couple things and then I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Sure.” I head up the stairs and he heads deeper into the house.

64

Violet

Two Weeks Later

I’m at my desk, laughing with Cammy who is leaned over the half wall, when Killian’s name comes up on my cell.

“That’s Killian. Gotta grab it,” I tell her.

She wiggles her eyebrows. “Find out if he’s got a friend for me,” she says for the tenth time, then she disappears, sitting back down at her desk.

“Hi there,” I greet.

“Well, hello,” he returns playfully.

“How’s your day going?” I ask.

“I’m anxious for your day to be done. Anything on this weekend?”

“Not a thing.” He’s been super busy this week, so we haven’t made any plans and haven’t spent a whole lot of time together. “Is it a slow weekend for you or are you going to be busy with work?” I ask.

I’m hoping he’s not going to be busy. I’m hoping he’s going to claim me on his kitchen counters at the apartment like he’s been teasing about.

Our sex life is amazing. I have nothing to complain about. Except that I agreed I’m moved in and we still haven’t had sex on the kitchen counters.

“I’m all yours this weekend, except… there’s an out-of-town wedding I’d like us to attend. How do you feel about that?”

“Oh. Uh…”

“Quick trip. Leave tonight, back Sunday.”

“What about… uh…”

“You don’t even need to pack. We’ll get what we need while we’re there.”

He’s got an answer for everything, it seems.

“Where is this out-of-town wedding?”

“Vegas.”

“Oh! Um, okay.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Sure. I’m just surprised. Haven’t had any spontaneous weekend getaways in eons. Who’s wedding is it?” I ask.

“The couple are great people. It’s a long time coming, actually, and… shit. I gotta take a call. I’ll pick you up at five. Okay?”

“Okay,” I reply. “Love you.”

“Love you, baby,” he says with what sounds like extra feeling.

I love it when his voice goes deeper like that when he says that to me – like he really wants me to know he means it.

He hangs up.

I’ve got an hour and a half left of my workweek, so I dig in to wrap it up, excited about a weekend getaway. Excited in general, because this past few weeks with Killian have been awesome.

I’m feeling so much more like the old me, but I appreciate everything and take nothing for granted, not the least of which is my relationship with my family, which has been great lately. And we had dinner with them the other weekend and it was more than I could’ve hoped for. My grandfather even showed signs of liking Killian, which has the whole family amped because he’s not big on outsiders. I heard Colleen mutter to her mom that it’s because my last boyfriend was such a colossal asshole that anybody would get the nod of approval after that. My aunt gave her shit for that, noticing I overheard.

I shrugged. “She’s right, of course, but that doesn’t take away from that fact that my guy is incredible.”

“No, you’re right about that. Sorry, Vi,” Colleen muttered.

I hugged her. “Don’t sweat it.”

Uncle Brock slid by us at that point and said, “Envy-green don’t look good on you, Colly.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and then looked to me. “He’s kinda right though. Sorry, Vi.”

I laughed.

I spent a few hours at my grampa’s yesterday, dropping food off, showing him how to use the air fryer I bought him for an early Christmas gift, and bottom line, my family loves Killian and both Kill and his brother are coming to Thanksgiving this year. I’m looking forward to getting to know Will Coulter better, too.

At 4:50, I get buzzed by Tara.

“There’s someone at the front desk for you, Violet. Her name is Sandy Iadanza.”

I jolt in surprise and it takes prompting from Tara to find out if I’m still there before I reply, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

***

When I see Ray’s mother pacing the reception area, I’m sure I’d know her if I passed her on the street - Ray looks that much like her. Sandy Iadanza looks agitated, perhaps also nervous looking around as she paces, biting her nails.

I approach and she eyes me curiously with those hauntingly familiar blue eyes. It’s casual Friday, but I’m dressed up today after having had a vendor lunch earlier, a lunch with a vendor that was very business-like, so I decided to forego my usual Friday jeans, opting instead for a business suit.

She’s dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, old sneakers. A ski jacket that looks like it has seen better days. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail and sad to say, she looks unwell. She looks like she lives a hard life of partying. And that would go along with what Ray told me about her. That she’s an abusive alcoholic and pain pill popper.

I can’t imagine why she’s here, other than maybe hearing about Ray being arrested and wanting an update, which I don’t have.

I asked Killian just last week if he’s heard anything while we were picking up mail for the last time at my old apartment. I officially no longer live there.  My furniture has been sent to the Tillamook house, since we have so much space there and not a whole lot of furniture yet.

Killian told me Mrs. Shear is in an assisted living facility, that he’d sent the money to it in care of her niece, but that no, he had no idea where things were at with Ray.

“Hello?” I ask. “Mrs. Iadanza?”

“Sandy. You Violet?” she asks me.

Her voice comes out strong, rough. There’s definite hardness to her.

“I am.”

“Obviously you know I’m Ray’s mother. I need to talk to you. In private.” She shoots Tara, who is watching us, a dirty look.

“Can I use this meeting room?” I call over to ask.

“Go ahead. It’s not booked for the rest of the day.” Tara nods toward the empty conference room to the left of reception, and I gesture for Ray’s mother to go ahead of me. I turn on the light and close the door behind myself.

“It’s strange to meet you finally.”

“Strange?” she asks, looking me over with sharp eyes. “Why is it strange?”

“Yeah. Um, just because Ray and I were together for three years and we never met and now that we’re not together, we do and it’s just… a surprise.”

“You’re not together?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No. We split up just before he… um… I’m getting ahead of myself. How can I help you?”

“Figures. That little bullshitter. You seen him lately?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but he was arrested.”

“I know that!” she barks at me like I’m an imbecile. “I mean you seen him since he got out?”

“Since he got out? I… didn’t know he got out. We split up before he got arrested.”

“He’s missin’ and he has to get his ass to court Monday or else I’m not gettin’ the money back. I need that money.”

I give my head a shake. “I… I haven’t seen him.”

“Well, fuck,” she grits out. “That little shithead best not fuck me over. I bail him out and he fuckin’ vanishes. You see him, you tell him to be in court Monday or else he’s dead to me. I got plans for that money when I get it back and if he dicks me over again…” She throws her hand up in the air. “Little fucker.” She looks me over again and then storms out.

I’m kind of thrown. More than kind of.

Ray told me he didn’t talk to his family. I can see from not even two minutes with her why he had no relationship with her. He always said she was abusive. Even more abusive than his father who used to get drunk and beat him. It’s written all over her. She bailed him out of jail? He made it sound like she was living in squalor in the same dumpy place he grew up in.

I’m glad Tara is on the phone and unable to ask the questions I can tell she has by the look on her face. I head back to my desk and shakily close things down. It’s five to five. And my head is kind of spinning.

65

Killian

When I see Violet leave her office building, I get out of the car and round it, ready to open the door for her. That’s when I hear my name from behind me.

“Killian? That you?”

I turn and see Sandra Iadanza crossing the street, coming toward me.

Violet’s approaching from the side.

Sandra looks at Violet and then her eyes dart back to me with questions in them.

Fuck. My. Life.

I open the door.

“You, stay there,” I point at Sandra as soon as her feet are on the sidewalk. “I’ll talk to you in a minute. Don’t come any fucking closer. And keep your mouth shut for a minute.”

She freezes.

“In the car, baby.”

“Killian?” Violet asks.

She’s heard me, obviously.

“In the car, baby,” I repeat and gesture for Violet to get inside.

Raymond’s bitch mother is afraid of me, but she’s standing her ground with a cold glare on her face. She used to be an attractive woman.  I see the scar over her eye that I know my mother put there when they got into a fist fight over that asshole who was fucking Sandra while living with my mother. Beyond that scar, the years haven’t been kind. Not surprisingly.

Violet still hasn’t gotten in the car.

“Baby, please.”

She climbs in and I shut the door and meet Sandra at the back of my SUV.

“What do you want, Sandra?”

“I came to see her and find out if she knows where my boy is. And she tells me they split up. Now I see you here. That’s kind of odd. She split with him and now she’s with you? Didn’t even know you and Ray are still friends.”

“We’re not. Total coincidence. When you saw me, you know you should’ve turned around and walked away, Sandra.”

She flinches. I told her a long fucking time ago I did not want her anywhere near me when she tried to offer me a blowjob for dope money. Yeah. I was seventeen and she caught wind I was making good money with bookmaking. I’d just gotten paid from her idiot son when she approached me and came onto me. I told her if she ever got near me again, I’d make her sorry.

“Ray’s got court Monday and I can’t find him. He’s been gone for a couple weeks and if he doesn’t show up, I lose the security.”

“This isn’t my problem. It’s also not Violet’s. Stay away from the both of us.”

“I got no beef with you, Killian Coulter. None at all.” She raises her hands. “But, if you see my son, tell him I need that money. Henny said -”

“I don’t give a fuck what Hennessy said, Sandra. And I don’t expect to see your son.”

She stares at me.

“Violet and I have plans. If you’re taking a bus home, that’s your bus coming.”

I gesture across the street.

She narrows her eyes. “You happen to hear news of Ray, you know where to find me. Same place as always.”

She’s thick-headed, that woman.

She jay-walks, and gets to the bus as it stops on the opposite corner. As the bus pulls away, I see she’s got her eyes on me out the window. And I don’t fuckin’ like that it looks like her wheels are turning. She’s a headache I do not need right now. Or ever.

I get into my SUV and click my seatbelt on.

“Holy crap,” Violet mutters.

Our eyes meet.

“That was crazy. Ray’s out of jail apparently, and further news - he’s got court Monday. She came to ask if I’d seen him because she’s afraid he’s going to miss court and she’ll lose the bail money. Did you know he was out?”

I shake my head. “That woman is a train wreck. Did she upset you?”

Violet shakes her head. “No. It was just sort of weird. I was with him for three years, he had nothing nice to say about either of his parents, especially her. She sounded like an abusive Mommy Dearest type. Drunk, mean to him. Called him worthless. Slapped him around a lot.  I can see it after two minutes talking to her. Can totally see it.”

Violet shudders.

“Make you feel some sympathy for him?” I ask.

She grimaces and shakes her head. “Nope. He’s responsible for his own actions. We might not have control over how we’re raised, but we’re accountable for our own actions once we’re adults. He chose to be the kind of person he is. That’s on him. You didn’t know he was out?”

“Nope.”

“I wonder if he took off.”

“Guess time will tell,” I say and start the car. “We’ve got a plane to catch. Catch me up on your day, baby. Forget all that shit. Kiss?” I lean in and she kisses me and then leans back. Her smile is a little shaky, though. I can see that she’s affected by talking to his mother.

“Let’s forget about that shit, have a good weekend, okay? You ever been to Vegas?”

We stop at a red light.

She nods. “Yeah, I … um… went there with Ray when we were first together. And I was also there on my twenty first birthday with Susanna.”

“Ah. Well, next trip we take it’ll be somewhere you haven’t been then. Where do you wanna go?”

“Everywhere,” she says. “Love to travel. I like to alternate between beach vacations and sightseeing. Love soaking up culture. Seeing landmarks. Trying new food.”

“Yeah? What’s your family’s nationality?”

“English and Irish,” she says. “What about you?”

“Scotch-Irish father, mom was half-Italian,” I say.

“Have you been to Scotland, Ireland, or Italy?” she asks.

“Not yet, no.”

“We should go and explore castles and try to see the loch ness monster and go to the Colosseum and take a boat in Venice, and eat spaghetti in Tuscany, and-”

“Buy shoes in Milan?” I interject.

“Yes! Shoes.” Her eyes go dreamy for a second.

“Maybe we’ll do that someday.”

She giggles.

“Maybe someday soon,” I add.

“That’d be awesome,” she says dreamily. “Milan is now top of my list.”

“But today… Vegas.”

“Vegas!” she exclaims and blows into her cupped hand, then throws imaginary dice.

“Snake eyes. Boo,” she adds.

I tsk. “Never bet against the house.”

“Nope. No gambling for me, thank you.”

“Me either, baby. Never again.”

She wraps her arms tight around me.

“Gambling can be good, and it can be evil. I’d bet it all that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Killian Coulter.”

“Fuck, I love you, Dimples.”

***

Once we’re parked, I open the trunk and pull out the large suitcase and she blinks in surprise.

“So, to keep things simple, I put some of your stuff in a suitcase,” I tell her. “But I’m not a master packer by any stretch, never packed for a woman before, but hopefully I brought you enough stuff. Like I said, we can shop for whatever else you want or need.”

“Okay,” she says with a shrug. “I’m game for the adventure. Did you remember underwear and bras?”

I smile. “Yeah, I did. Must say it was fun picking out lingerie for the weekend.”

She beams at me. “I bet it was. Did you bring me anything besides bras and underwear?”

I shrug. “Can’t remember. Got stuck on that part.”

She laughs.

“Brought you some shoes, I think. Toothbrush. Your makeup bag. Couple sexy nightgowns.”

She laughs. “That’s good. When is the wedding?”

“Tonight, actually.”

“Tonight?” Her expression drops. “What about a dress?”

“Brought two of your dresses. Plenty of shops around. We’ll find you something. You look good already though.”

“Well, thanks, but this is a business suit. Am I gonna have time to put on fresh makeup and do my hair?”

“Don’t sweat it, baby. It’ll be cool.”

“Did you bring a suit? How formal is the wedding? Who is it getting married again?”

She’s wigging out a little. And normally this would irritate me, it had in the past with women, but with Violet I don’t find it annoying; I find it cute.

“Don’t worry. It’s a Vegas wedding. Casual is fine. We’re gonna miss our flight; we gotta motor.”

I rush unnecessarily with her to get her to stop asking questions and get us to the plane.

66

Violet

We’re in a private plane. And Killian is looking at me with what I think is mischief.

I’m flummoxed. And he’s acting like he thinks it’s funny.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“We’re going to a very wealthy couple’s wedding, so we’re getting the star treatment.”

“What? This is crazy, isn’t it? Who’s flying us to Vegas on a private plane?”

A young, male flight attendant comes over. “I’m Alex and I’m here to help make your flight as comfortable as possible. We’re about to take off. Can I ask for your drink orders now? Then I’ll serve you when we’re in the air.”

“Champagne,” Killian says, smiling. “And strawberries.”

“Absolutely. I’ll get it ready for you as soon as the pilot gives us the green light. We’re getting ready to take off now. Can I ask you to buckle up?”

I turn to him. “Killian? What’s going on?”

“Buckle up baby,” he says, smiling.

I do and then I wait and listen while the flight attendant does the typical safety spiel before going to the cockpit, closing the door.

This is crazy. A private plane to Vegas.

“Who’s getting married?” I ask.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box and sets it on his knee.

“Kill?” I whisper.

We’re moving. The plane is moving.

What the heck is going on here? I’m in a beautiful plane, all black and white leather, and he has a ring box on his knee.

“We are,” he says.

“We are what?” I ask, staring at the ring box, feeling my heart galloping.

“Violet, I love you,” he says. “I can’t get on one knee right now because…”

“Oh my God,” I whisper, wide-eyed.

“Because, obviously, we’re about to be airborne, but I want to ask you if you’d do me the honor of becoming my wife and spending the rest of your life with me.”

He opens the ring box and there’s the prettiest, most sparkly diamond I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I gasp and then cover my mouth with my palm.

And now we’re off the ground, soaring toward the sky like a bird.

“Will you marry me, Violet?” he asks.

I stare at the ring. And then my eyes dart to meet his.

He waits.

“This is really fast,” I whisper, finally.

“It’s not. It’s a long fucking time coming, baby, and you know that.” He’s gone serious.

I blink at him.

He lifts the ring out of the box and holds it up in front of us.

“Do you love me?”

I nod. “I love you so much.” My voice cracks when I say that.

I’m feeling emotional. I do love him. I really, really do.

It hasn’t been that long, but he’s been amazing to me. He’s brought me back to feeling like me. I feel attractive. I feel confident most of the time these days. I laugh a lot. I have a social life again.

He’s gorgeous and funny, smart, and protective. He takes care of me and seems so appreciative when I try to take care of him.

“Do I make you happy?” he asks.

I nod again. “So happy. But…” I swallow. “This is really fast.”

“Can I put this on you?”

I find I’m holding my breath. I can’t seem to let it go.

He leans over as much as the seatbelt will allow.

“It won’t bite you. Breathe, baby,” he reminds me. “Can’t have you turnin’ blue while I wait for you to answer me.

I empty my lungs quickly.

“I promise you,” he says, “Promise I’ll be the man who loves you until his dying breath. I promise to keep you safe. I promise to make you happy, give you everything that’s in my power to give you. And if it’s not and you really want it, I’ll get more powerful, Violet, so that I can make all your wishes come true. Did you ever make a wish as a little girl on a dandelion to ask for true love?”

I nod, biting my lip.

“Well, here it is, right in front of you. Take it.”

He puts the ring on my finger but pauses before it goes over my knuckle.

“Say yes, Violet. And then show me those beautiful dimples.”

His eyes are on mine and the look in them? I want to give this man all his wishes, too. Every one of them.

“I’m gonna make a wish right now,” he says and closes his eyes.

I watch for a long moment and then his eyes open. And they’re filled with emotion.

“Say yes, baby,” he requests.

“Yes, baby,” I repeat, barely audible, I think, and then as a smile spreads across his face, my face follows and I smile.

His eyes light up and they’re the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life.

And then he slides the ring over my knuckle and there it sits. He kisses it and closes his eyes while his lips are still on my finger.

“She said yes!” he shouts, making me startle and I hear noise from the other end of the plane. Clapping.

He grabs my jaw and puts his lips to it. “I fucking love you so much, Violet. So much it burns sometimes, threatening to incinerate me. And baby, I would gladly burn to nothing for you. That’s how much I love you.”

Holy cow.

“I love you, too,” I croak out hoarsely. “So much.”

He smiles.

“That’s so lame in contrast, but I’m just… speechless.”

“There’s nothing lame about you saying that, Violet. I feel how much you love me. I don’t need words; I just need the way you look at me. The way you fit into me when I hold you. The way you smile at me. The way you open yourself up to me, how you’ve trusted me. I feel like I’m a man who has everything now.”

A male voice floods the space.

“Good evening Killian, Violet. We’re still climbing but about ten more minutes and you two should be able to take off your seatbelts and sip that champagne. Congratulations!”

I laugh.

Killian kisses me

***

It’s a few minutes before the flight attendant is back with champagne and strawberries, and also a big smile on his face.

Killian has been leaned back, smiling, holding my hand.

And I’ve been looking out the window and feeling absolutely freaked out. Not about the flight, I love take-off, though not as much as I love the rush of landing as the earth gets closer and closer to me, but I’m looking out the window and freaking out about the idea of being engaged so fast.

“You can relax and move freely about the cabin now,” Alex the flight attendant says. “And congratulations.”

A split second after I hear the click of Killian’s seatbelt releasing, mine flies off me.

“Make yourself scarce,” Killian grits out and the flight attendant scurries away, pulling a divider over as he does, leaving us alone.

Well, as alone as I guess we can be considering we’re in a small plane with the pilot, the flight attendant, and I’m assuming… a co-pilot.

I gasp as I’m pulled out of my seat and then I’m straddling him.

“Hi,” I giggle but then his fingers are tangling into my hair and our mouths are fused together.

Killian kisses me with more passion than I’ve ever experienced. He’s hard under me and he can’t seem to get his pants undone fast enough.

“No, we can’t,” I say, as my skirt is shimmied up.

“We have to,” he replies and then my pantyhose are ripped and my underwear are shoved to the side as he pushes forward and fills me.

“Holy shit,” I groan into his shoulder.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he murmurs against my mouth, moving me back and forth over him.

I’m overcome with emotion as his tongue slips between my lips and licks at mine.

“I can’t believe this,” I say, kissing him back, rocking into him as he moves inside me, hips undulating from his seat.

He lifts me up, still inside me and then we’re moving to a couch across from where we’d been sitting, me on my back, my legs around his lower back.

“Believe it. It’s us until the end, baby. You ‘n me. The way it was fuckin’ supposed to be.” He spits that out with anger that startles  me at the same time as moves me. I caress his stubbled jaw with both hands.

“Three years ago I could’ve had you. You could’ve had me.”

“I love you so much, Killian.” He moves faster into me and then slides his hand between us.

“Fuckin’ wish that, baby. Wish it was us all this time. I can’t wait any longer. Why should we, right? Never know what life’ll bring.”

I feel nervous at the prospect of the crew knowing what we’re doing. Despite his magical fingers on my clit, I don’t think I’ll be able to let go.

“Let go, baby. Pretend nobody’s here but us,” he says.

“Shh,” I put my hand over his mouth.

This makes him laugh.

Music is suddenly piped through the space. He laughs harder.

It’s I Want Your Sex by George Michael.

Ha. Ha. Very funny.

He slows the rhythm of his hips and his fingers while staring into my eyes, smiling, but also looking deep.

God, the way he looks at me.

My embarrassment wanes by the time we get to the chorus and I find he’s fucking me, plucking at my clit in a way that follows the beat of the song.

I grab his face and drag his mouth toward mine and catch a little nuance to the fucking. He pushes his hips harder every time George Michael says the word ‘sex’. I decide to join in the fun and listen for the word again. When George says it, I squeeze my Kegel muscle at the same time as Killian punctuates with his hips.

He catches on and it’s a fun little sexy game.

Thrust, pluck, squeeze. Thrust, thrust, thrust, pluck, pluck, pluck, squeeze.

And then when George starts with the grunting ‘HUH!’ part, Killian fucks me even harder with every HUH!

And I have no choice, I come, and audibly so despite the small space, but not finishing before the song is done. It cuts off before my sounds do and I cover my mouth.

And then the song starts again, and before it gets to the chorus again, Killian comes inside me.

As he’s catching his breath, he rolls off the narrow sofa onto the rug and zips his pants up, pulls my skirt down, and then drops another kiss on my mouth.

“We just joined the mile high club,” I announce.

He laughs. “We sure did.”

I giggle and cover my mouth. “I’m not gonna be able to look the flight attendant in the eyes.”

He laughs. “I am. I give no fucks. You shouldn’t either. I paid a fortune for this flight. You need the bathroom first? Go ahead.”

I get up, trying to smooth my hair, hoping that no one comes out before I get myself straightened out. The bathroom door is before the divider, thankfully. My legs feel weird with the giant hole in my pantyhose.

Inside the small space, I remove them and toss them in the trash bin along with my underwear, because those are totally soaked.

After using the facilities, I turn the tap on to wash my hands and that’s when I get a really good look at the ring on my finger.

It’s breathtaking. It’s got a big diamond and most of the rest of the ring is smaller diamonds, ending at the adjacent fingers. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.

I can’t believe I’m engaged to Killian Coulter.

Wait! I can’t throw those undies and pantyhose away – those are my mile high underwear and pantyhose! Besides, the trash bin was empty so it’s okay if I fetch them. I fetch them and tuck them into a paper barf bag that’s attached to the side of the sink.

When I come out of the bathroom, he winks at me and slips in after me. I tuck the bag into my purse before I sit down and eyeball our champagne.

He proposed to me in an airplane soaring up into the sky. And then we had sex. Crazy.  And seemingly random. But not likely random as he would’ve had to plan to pull this off.

He’s back.

“To you,” he says, lifting the champagne glasses and passing me one before he sits beside me on the sofa. “And me. To us.” He taps his glass to mine and we both sip from our glasses.

“Cheers,” I say after swallowing.

He holds out a ripe and juicy strawberry, so I lean over and take a bite off the end. He pops the rest of it in his mouth.

“So, Elvis, Liberace, or something less – Vegas?” he asks.

“Hm?” I frown.

“How do you wanna do this?”

“Do… this?”

He stares at me, tilting his head.

And it dawns.

“The wedding?” I ask.

He jerks his chin up.

“Our wedding? Tonight?”

He smiles. “Yeah, baby. Tonight.”

I shake my head. “We can’t do this tonight!”

His expression drops.

“My family. Susanna. They… they’ll kill me.”

Killian’s expression drops further.

“I’ve just gotten them all back, I can’t do that to them…”

He swallows.

God, he looks disappointed. And I hate it. I wanna undo it.

“Oh my God, I mean, this is the most romantic thing I can imagine, but I didn’t think you meant today, Killian. Can we… can we talk about this?”

He’s staring at the rug and he looks so disappointed I’m suddenly filled with panic.

I feel my body trembling. And then I sob.

And I feel utterly remorseful for bursting his bubble right now.

“Hey?” he grabs me and pulls me to him. “Settle down, baby, it’s okay.”

I’m trembling hard, bawling actually. I wrap my arms around him and I’m sobbing so hard I’m having trouble catching my breath.

“It’s okay, Violet, settle, baby.” He’s kissing my forehead and then holding my face in both hands. “Breathe. Slow down. Don’t cry. Shh.”

I’m sobbing so hard I’m hyperventilating.

Killian reaches to the side of the couch and grabs an airplane barf bag and flicks it open, then has it over my mouth.

“Slow, deep breaths, Violet. It’s okay.” He rubs my back and then reaches for a bottle of water from a basket filled with water bottles, bottles of ginger ale, airplane booze bottles, and packs of trail mix. He opens the water bottle and gestures for me to take some, lifting the paper bag away from my mouth.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Violet.”

I shake my head as I sip some water, gulping down a few mouthfuls and then I catch my breath as I swipe the back of my hand across my wet mouth.

“I’m the sorry one. Sorry I’m freaking out. The idea of marrying you doesn’t freak me out, Killian, it’s…”

He waits for me to elaborate but then he catches my hand, pulling it away from my throat where I’m scratching, something I’ve picked up as a nervous habit, and squeezes. “Talk to me, baby.”

“The idea of disappointing you does.” I drop my head and study my lap.

He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.

“Marry me tonight, Violet. Quietly in Vegas. And then we’ll do it again for your family, for Susanna. Don’t make me wait another day, but then we can plan a big wedding for home, too. How about that?”

I swallow as I absorb this.

“In a church and hall or even a big outdoor thing in the spring by the water at our Tillamook house. Whatever you want.”

67

Killian

“I wanna marry you tonight,” I say. “You’re mine and I’m not giving you back. Ever.”

She swallows. “There’s no one to give me back to, Killian. It’s only you. Are you worried because he’s out of jail?”

I shake my head. “He will not ever come between us again. I’m not worried about that, believe me; I just want you to be a hundred percent mine in every way. I don’t wanna wait. Don’t make me wait, baby. We’ll do the family thing however and whenever you want, but tonight, do this for me. For us.”

Her beautiful eyes search my face.

“I need this,” I tell her. “I want this more than anything in the world, Violet. Well, second-most.”

“What’s first?” she asks.

“If I could go back three years… you know this. That’s the only thing I want more than to marry you tonight. No one can give us that, but we can give one another this.”

“Why does it have to be tonight?” she asks.

“Violet…” I groan. And then I rub my eyes and dig to find the words. “It’s been fucking with me hard the truths about the three years apart, about that shit stain fucking taking that from us, about what happened to you when you should have been mine. I don’t want to wait anymore. It’s my job to try to undo what he did to you, and-”

“It’s not your job to do that. And I’m feeling bulldozed.”

I pull my lips tight for a second and then speak. “I’d apologize to you, but that’d be lying, because I do not feel bad for wanting to tie the knot with you so tight that it’ll never be untied. I know I’ll sleep better at night when that happens.”

“Are you not sleeping well?” she asks, looking concerned.

I shake my head. “Forget about me right now. Do you have reservations about marrying me? Do you feel like you don’t have enough information about what life with me will be like? Because it’s gonna be everything it’s been, baby. Me taking care of you. Me being there for you in any way I can be.” I grab her hand and kiss it. “We can do the family wedding too. Let’s just do this tonight. Who gets hurt by that?”

“If I’m fibbing to my family… I can’t do that. I don’t like lying, Killian.”

“How about you call them and ask them what they think? Ask them if they wanna come. We’ll have them come. I’ll fly them out. Susanna, too. If that’s what it’s gonna take…”

She takes fists full of her hair on both sides of her head.

And it hurts that I’m causing her distress. But I’m not backing down here. I give no fucks. This woman is going to be married to me this weekend, one way or another. I need it.

Is it because today’s the anniversary of my mother’s death? Maybe that’s playing a part. Is it because of some things going on right now that I can’t talk about with her?  Maybe that, too.

Bottom line, I want this. Need it.

She stares at me.

“Give me your phone,” I say.

She stares. “What are you gonna do?”

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

She nods.

“Then say yes. Say you’ll marry me tonight. And give me your phone. I promise you that if you trust me, everything is gonna be okay. Okay?”

She nods slowly and then reaches for her purse across the aisle from under the seats we’d been buckled into.

She passes me her phone. And I feel like pounding my chest in triumph because I love how much she trusts me.

I scroll until I find her father’s contact details. I call him.

“Hello?” he greets.

“Mr. Gates, it’s Killian.

68

Violet

“Sir, I wanna ask you an important question. Is your wife there with you? Can you put the phone on speaker so I can talk to you both?”

He moistens his lips and then takes my hand.

“Hi Mrs. Gates. I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

His eyes twinkle as I watch. I like that he likes my mom. I know she likes him a lot.

“So, Violet and I are on a plane, on our way to Las Vegas for the weekend, and I just proposed to her.”

I hear my mother squeal through the phone.
I shakily lift my champagne and take a hearty gulp.

“Sure, one sec,” he says and puts the phone on the table in front of us, touching the command to put it on speaker. I take another gulp of champagne.

“You’re on speaker Mr. and Mrs. Gates.”

“Hi Mom, Dad,” I say.

“Congratulations, honey!”

“Th-thank you,” I say shakily.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gates, please forgive me for not calling first to ask for permission,” Killian says.

“It’s okay, son. You would have got it if you had,” Dad says.

I pull my lips tight. Son?  He’s met him three times. Ray didn’t even get called by his name. Dad was so indifferent in the beginning and then there was just this animosity that hung in the air. Killian meets him a few times and is now getting son?

“I didn’t grow up with a father, so I didn’t have that example. I hope you’re not offended, sir.”

“I get it, Killian. Thank you for calling now.”

“There’s another reason I’m calling,” he says, eyes bouncing to me and then back to the screen. “It was my intention to marry your daughter tonight. She said yes to the proposal but she’s giving me a hard time about doing it without you guys there. What I wanna know is if you’d object to me and Violet getting married tonight in Vegas, so I don’t have to wait to be able to call her mine completely. And then… we’ll do it again with all the family and the church or whatever she wants.”

The phone is dead silent.

I bite my lip.

I can’t believe he’s just put them on the spot like this.  But I’m also having a hard time being angry, because I feel so… so loved. So wanted. I don’t know how to reconcile it right now.

“Or…” Killian says, “I fly you both out and we do it tomorrow with you there.”

“Go for it,” Dad says, “I don’t wanna go to Vegas.”

“Definitely,” Mom agrees. “If that’s what she wants to do, do it. We can have a mulligan when you kids get home.”

“What?” I ask.

“Baby doll,” Mom says, “Why are you denying yourself if this will make you happy?”

“Well…” I say. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Not Killian, not you guys either. After all that we’ve been through lately, I just…I don’t know, I’m just trying to catch my breath here.”

“Never know what tomorrow can bring, Violet,” Mom says. “Do it. Say your vows for just one another tonight. Say them again for us when you get home.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Really,” Dad says for her.

“Family is important,” Mom says, “But marriage? It’s everything. You seem like you’re very in love.”

“I am,” I say softly.

“Okay, then it’s settled,” Killian says.

“When do you fly back?” Dad asks.

“Well, I was thinking Sunday evening,” Killian replies. “But my next call is to Violet’s boss so I can see if I can get her two weeks off so that I can take her to Italy for our honeymoon. My fiancée wants to go to Milan to buy some shoes.”

My mouth drops.

“You’ll miss thanksgiving,” Mom says, alarmed.

I wince.

“It’s her honeymoon, Daph,” Dad says.

“We’ll have Christmas together,” Mom readily agrees.

My eyes are bulging. “You’re sure you guys are okay with this?” I ask.

“As long as you are, we are,” Mom agrees. “Waited a long while to see you happy, sweet girl. Come over when you get back. Send us postcards while you’re gone. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say shakily.

“And pictures before Italy. Send some pictures tomorrow if you can, okay guys?”

“Will do,” Killian answers. “Bye for now, Mr. and Mrs. Gates. I promise I’ll make your daughter happy.”

“Call us Mom and Dad,” Mom invites.

Killian’s eyes are dancing with joy as he looks at me.

“Or Daphne and Kev,” my dad amends.

“Mom and Dad,” Mom corrects.

Killian’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.  “How about Mom ‘n Kev?” Killian tries.

“Works for me,” Dad says quickly.

And I can’t help it, I smile wide.

69

Killian

“There are the dimples I love so much.”

She just said bye to her parents and ended the call.

I kiss her.

“You okay now?” I ask.

She doesn’t look okay. She looks uncertain.

“Baby,” I caress her face. “What can I do to make you sure? I’ll do anything.”

She bites her lip and then crawls into my lap. I hold her for a minute, kissing her head. I inhale the scent of her hair, absorb the feel of her on my lap, snuggled into me.

“What if I said I can’t? What if I tell you I really think I need more time?”

My chest goes cold.

“I feel like I finally have my voice back,” she says softly. “and you gave it to me. Thank you for that. But what if I feel like this is too fast, too soon?  What if I wanna keep learning how to stand up and be me for a bit, figure out who I am now?”

I pull her closer, “You can do that as Mrs. Killian Coulter, you know. I would never ever stop you from being who you are. I promise. Marry me tonight, baby. It should’ve been me that night and it was him because he’s a fucking cheat. I fuckin’ wish I could go back. We would’ve been here by now anyway, fuck, by now we’d probably have babies. The biggest part of me wants to plead with you to not make me wait another day, Violet.”

70

Violet

Babies? My God. I want his babies like I want my next breath.

I know I should stand my ground. But looking at him, hearing the tone of his voice right now and thinking about all this trouble he went to today? At the possibility of a future with him?

He sighs. “I’ll give you whatever you want. If you feel like we really should wait, of course I’ll give you that, baby.”

I look up into his eyes.

“That’s why I won’t make you wait,” I whisper.

His face lights up. “Testing me?”

“No,” I murmur. “Not trying to. Just processing.”

He squeezes me lovingly. “So, your answer is yes?”

I nod.

“Say it, Violet.”

“Yes.”

He grabs my jaw and stares into my eyes. “It feels like I’m flying so high right now that I can carry this plane the rest of the way to Vegas on my back.”

He kisses me with so much emotion, I feel like I could expire. And do it happily.

“I’m ready to fuck you again,” he says.

I break the kiss off as he reaches up my shirt and starts pulling a bra cup down.

“Wait a minute there, fiancé. I need to call Suse.”

“Fiancé,” he mutters. “I like that.” He gives me an affectionate squeeze.

“I’ll have to say it as many times as I can in the next few hours since you’re only going to be my fiancé for that long…”

“That’s fine by me. I can’t wait until you call me your husband.”

“I’ll call Suse.”

“I’ll call your boss directly after.”

“By the way,” he says, “By the look in your eyes when I just said babies? Guess whose birth control pills are getting flushed tonight?”

I giggle. “Don’t be crazy.”

“Watch me,” he retorts, looking completely serious. And then he reaches for my bag and fishes around until he finds them.

“Wait,” I giggle and reach for them.

He picks up a strawberry and pops it in my mouth, leaving me laughing while he disappears into the lavatory and I hear the flush.

Holy shit.

71

Ray

Light blinds me for a second before it vanishes and I’m again in darkness. Something hits me in the head at the same time as it goes dark while something else lands on the floor after bouncing off my sore knee. The impact from the thing that hit my head knocks me back and I smack the back of my head against the concrete wall I’m leaned against. This isn’t the first time something’s hit me on the head on its way down here. I swear this guy does it on purpose.

I feel around for it. Another tin can.

Fuck. More dog food.

I feel by my knee. Another bottle of water.

My face hurts. A lot. I think the cut on my cheek is infected.

My ribs aren’t feeling any better either. I know a few were broken weeks ago when he took his first beating to me. The second beating included a gunshot to my right knee. That, he had a doctor deal with, but it’s not healing well, especially not now in this dirty pit he threw me in. Locked me in. He said it’s my temporary home while he has my cell remodeled. That was a couple weeks ago, I think. I’ve lost count, lost the concept of time.

Suddenly I hear her voice again.

“I Violet, take you, Killian, to be my husband.”

Fuck. Is that in my head or is it really being played again?

I swallow down a lump and curl into a ball on the concrete floor of my hell, listening to her say her vows to him. Listening to him say them back.

It goes on for a few minutes while I close my eyes, trying to shut it out.

I’m not calling out for her again. Too many times I thought it was her and it turned out to be more of his games.  I’d hear her laughing and then talking shit about me. Sayin’ how I’m not worth her time. How she wants to forget the three years she spent with me. Or worse, talking about how fucking great he is. Yeah, he’s fucking great, isn’t he? Torturing bastard.

And now she’s married to him. At least I’m not being forced to watch a video of it. Yet. Maybe that’s coming. He’ll probably make me watch a video of the marriage being consummated. Seven times I’ve been made to watch the video of him fucking her on his kitchen counter in some swanky pad when they got back from getting married in Vegas. Vegas was our place – mine and hers. And he fuckin’ married her there. All I could see in the video was their heads the way he edited it,  but saw her face, heard her calling out his name while it was obvious what he was doing.

Doesn’t matter how many times I ask him to just fucking end me, he only laughs. He told me I’m on his timetable here. Paying for what I did three years ago. Paying for what I did for three years, being with her. For all the shitty things I said and did. For repeatedly fucking him over at and after Atlantic City. Like he’s so perfect. He says he might keep me barely alive for three years. He might end it any day now. I’m at the mercy of his whims. The mercy of the coins. The cards.

This is what I get for being cocky about it.

I thought he’d gone legit, gone soft.

I was so, so fucking wrong. As usual.

Kill Coulter is a fucking psycho.

Someone’s babysitting me these days, he’s hardly been here. The last beating I took from him, he took me out of the other cell and stuck me into this concrete box, left me in the dark for days or even weeks, warning that he was on his way to go pick her up so he could put a ring on her finger. He was gone a long time and then he was back for a day to play that video the first time. Since then, someone’s been throwing me down the dog food, the bottles of water. Playing the video on the wall down here with a projector or making me listen to the audio from their wedding. Been down here for weeks judging by the smell of me and the smell of my filth in the almost full bucket in the corner.

I can’t take much more of this. I think I lost my mind weeks ago. There’s only so much abuse a person can take. Only so much dark. So much fucking dog food and living in your own filth when you’ve got cuts, bruises, and can barely move because your kneecap has been blown to smithereens.

When he’s here and not kicking the shit out of me, fucking with the temperature either making me sweat or making me freeze, he’s doing brainfuck warfare shit with making me listen to her conversations, making me watch videos or slideshows.

Her sitting at her desk at her job, telling her friend how amazing her husband is.

Her in that swanky apartment, giggling while he touches her.

I feel around and find the can of dog food. This one has a tab on top; he usually throws them down to me without the top, meaning I get to scrape some off the cement before I dig in with my fingers for whatever remains. Unless it lands in my toilet bucket, which happened the other day and I went hungry and not for the first time. Can’t count how many times I’ve been left for days before he’d come or have someone else come in. I pull the tab and peel it back.

Instead of digging in with my fingers like usual, I rip the sharp edge of the can top across the inside of my wrist.

I laugh as my head falls back against the wall and warmth seeps out.

I’ve had enough of this shit. Only a matter of time before it ends.

I’m laughing and crying at the same time.

He told me I’d be sorry, and I am. I had moments in the other cell he had me in where I’ve pleaded, I’ve cried. I’ve begged him to end it with me. I know he won’t let me out of here alive and I think he’s gotta get bored of punishing me soon. Gotta get bored of flipping a coin and calling out what happens next if it’s heads or if it’s tails. Sick of making me play poker with him over and over.

I’ve told him how sorry I am for crossing him three years ago, but the truth is that I wasn’t sorry for having Violet. Not sorry for having love for the first time in my life. No, I’m not sorry that for once, I won something that actually mattered and made life good sometimes. Even if I did cheat to win it, even if in the end I did fuck it up. That’s not my fault I fuck things up. It’s because that’s all I know. What else happens when you grow up being told you’ll never amount to anything? That you’re worthless? I grew up with fuck ups and I grew up without love. I’ve got the shittiest luck… Nothing ever fucking goes right. If only my parents had been better, my life had been better I could’ve been better for her. I tried. I did. And yeah, I fucking failed.

But so did she. She promised me unconditional love. And the bitch lied. She doesn’t love me. She loves Kill and all his money.

My biggest mistake was walking up to him in the bar a few months back.

I should never have tried to again rub his nose in the fact that I won the girl that night and still had her.  If I’d just walked away, things would’ve been so different. He wouldn’t have sent me to Atlantic City. She wouldn’t have gone with him to his place. Wouldn’t have eventually climbed on his cock like a cheating whore. I wouldn’t have been arrested. And fuck me… when I got out on bail I should’ve known to lay low. Or better yet, disappear. Didn’t matter, though, not really. Because I’m pretty sure he’s the one that made that happen. He got someone to get my ma to bail me out all while he was fucking my girl, planning to grab me and throw me in a trunk, drag me to this basement in the middle of nowhere by the ocean.

Ma told me she got an anonymous donation to bail me out with the promise of more money later. So long as she kept her mouth shut about it. She told me to lay low, not fuck up. I knew it didn’t smell right and I was paranoid it was Killian but thrilled to be out of that hellhole jail where I know people had it in for me from day one, so I did lay low at first. The minute I stepped foot outside Ma’s apartment, desperate to get fresh air because she wouldn’t stop bitching at me, it happened. I went to the store two blocks away to grab some beer, hiding my face, trying to fly under radar, but I got jumped and taken here by the Rossi brothers.

Thought they were gonna take me somewhere and do me in. But I wasn’t so lucky for it to end quick like that.

I’m not hurting so much right now. There’s a lot of blood trickling out of my wrist. I feel around in the darkness for the can top and pull it across my other wrist.

Too bad it wasn’t Mrs. Shear that raised me. Fuck, but she loves her dead son Danny. Wish I were Danny. Danny raised by a woman that loved me and believed in me. Danny that’s dead right now so doesn’t have to feel this pain, doesn’t have to survive on dog food.

Yeah. It should be over soon. Then Coulter’s thug won’t be able to taunt me anymore. Won’t see Kill’s face again, smug, showing me more pictures or videos of how happy Vi is with him. Won’t tell me how good her pussy feels taking his cock. Won’t turn on the sound of her laughing upstairs from here, talking about decorating his big house, talking about how he’s the best she’s ever had.

I won’t have to go hoarse anymore from crying for help when no one hears me.

I won’t have to hear the voices in my head reminding me of all my fuck ups in life.

Won’t have to think about that fucking greedy bitch. I loved her for three years and she hops onto his dick as soon as he snaps his fingers?  Straight up tells him he’s the best she’s ever had? I hope he turns on her too and she winds up in this hole in this basement eventually. Maybe she’ll get to listen to a loop of him fucking someone else the way I have to listen to the two of them.

I dip my finger into the wound on my wrist, wincing at how it stings, how it throbs deep inside, way deep…

I draw a letter V on the wall beside me with my blood. And then I run my finger down beside it to write the letter i. I dip my finger into the puddle on the floor and dot the i. I think. I can’t see it, but whatever. Maybe she’ll be stuffed here some day and see it. Know she fucked up by not keeping her promises to me.

Light floods the space again and someone jumps down. I squint around the light. Fuck, that hurts.

The guy is huge. He’s lifting me out and I’m too weak to fight him off. Too weak to make a run for it.

I’m like a bag of weak old bones, aches and pains everywhere. So much pain I can’t remember what it feels like to not hurt. I see my wrist as I lift my arm weakly. So much blood.

I dry-heave, then request, “Le…lemme die.”

“Nope,” the guy says.

I don’t know his name. I saw him that night at the nightclub with Kill. Never got his name, but he’s a big, mean fucker.

“Boss isn’t done with you yet. You aren’t dyin’ today, shit stain. Let’s get your wrists patched up. Not even a deep enough cut to do yourself in?” The guy laughs. “Can you do nothing right?”

72

Violet

A Month After Our Wedding

Finally, I’ve found the right key. The lock turns.

I pull the key out and take a big breath before I pull the large slide-lock across at the top of the door and then the middle one before I squat to do the same at the very bottom.

I shakily turn the doorknob. Do I really want to know what’s on the other side of the door?

I have to know.

I have to know that, no, what my gut is telling me is wrong. It has to be wrong.

Ever since I saw inside that cistern, the rust-colored letter V and i, I’ve wondered. I’ve wondered why this old basement has a new-looking door with so many locks. That’s why I drove here by myself today. To see for myself. It’s been bothering me for two days, so I have to know.

A grotesque odor hits my nose and I’m about to lose the last meal I ate. I hold my breath and flash the light from my phone at the corner in there.

And what I see…

No.

Movement behind me makes me startle before I twist to look behind me.

My husband.

“Baby. You shouldn’t be down here,” he says.

“I probably shouldn’t,” I whisper, sadly.

My heart feels like it’s splintering apart right now.

“Violet…” Killian tries and hooks his arm around my waist from behind me.

I shouldn’t be surprised he followed me.   He’s been looking at me for two days like he knows I suspect something.

My poker face has never been very good.

“Turn around and close the door, sweetheart,” he says. “Believe me, that’s the best thing you can do here. Close it and forget this.”

My eyes follow the light to the corner.

“Is that…” I gasp when I see movement in the corner on the bed that’s there.

“Yeah,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

“Not dead?”

It sure smells like death.

“No. He’s not dead.”

“Vi?” I hear croaked out.

My stomach lurches. It is him. His voice is weak, but I know it’s him.

“You’ve had him down here this whole time?”

Killian says nothing.

“How? What the hell? When?” I pull away from him. I’m trembling.

“I had someone give his mother money to bail him out. And then waited to catch him.”

“You’ve had him here this whole time?” I step back. The stench is getting stronger. It smells rotten.

“I have.”

“When? When did you put him here?”

“A few days after you told me about the double-sided coins,” he says.

I gasp. That long ago?

Ray laughs. “I won. I had her first. She loved me first, you piece of shit bastard. ”

I bristle.

Killian doesn’t react to Ray’s jibes.

“He’s been torturing me, Violet,” Ray says weakly from the corner. ”Dunno if you’re really here or if I’m dreaming again, but in case you’re real… he’s been showing me videos of you… Playing videos of you. Making me listen to him fuck you, Vi, on a loop. He feeds me dog food. He beats the fuck outta me. Shot my knee. Pissed on me.”

“Shut your face, Ass-wipe,” Killian snaps.

My eyes travel to Killian. He’s staring at Ray’s shadow coldly.

“He’s got cameras on you all the time, Vi. He shows me footage. Footage of you two fucking.”

“Keep talkin’, asshole. See how it goes for you later,” Killian warns. “Don’t listen to him, baby, he’s skewing things. Like he always has.”

My blood runs to ice at his words, at his demeanor. I back away.

Killian catches my hand. “Baby.”

“You lied,” I say.

“Yes, I did,” he replies matter-of-factly.

I’m in shock. I can’t process this, especially not with his green eyes cutting through me, showing me what looks like the epitome of I give no fucks.

He has zero remorse. Zero.

Is that possible?

“I can’t believe you did that.”

Without hesitation, he replies.

“Believe it. I would lie; I would say anything to protect you. I’ll lie to anybody, you included, to keep you safe. To keep you happy and carefree. To protect you from how I know you feel right now.”

“Killian.” His name sounds like pain. Agony. Like shock.

“Violet,” he replies coolly.

It’s true.

He did this.

He actually did this.

To be continued…

Part 2 – Coming!

Information at
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Acknowledgements & Book Notes

I had the concept of this story hit me in my first year in publishing and it feels good to finally tell this story. Or… some of it. I can’t wait to write (and for you to read) the rest!

It wasn’t until I got into it that I realized it was going to be a duet.  And I had no freaking clue how much I would love these two and how big their story would get.

I mean, I absolutely adore every couple I write, so to have this feeling again is a gift. I hope I always feel this way. That’s my goal, to fall in love with the couples I write so that they can bring you a few hours of reading enjoyment.

And boy, do I love these two…

Violet, trying so hard to be strong after feeling weak for so long.

Killian, wanting to protect her and right some wrongs while transforming Violet’s life from a nightmare to a dream… and getting caught up in his own darkness along the way.

How far, how dark would you go for revenge?

And would you forgive someone for lying to you when they believe they did it to protect you? To avenge you?

I can’t wait to tell you the rest of their story, which continues in Dirty Stack.

***

Thanks to my alpha readers Robin, Scharme, and Hayley.

And to Hayley for her cover creation help - even when the things I ask for make her head spin (like reflective backwards playing cards.) Ha!

To Peggy who always helps with her encouragement and eagle-eyes. Peggy, I don’t know what I’ll do if you get sick of me. LOL. Please don’t get sick of me <3

And also to all my chickadees, my itty bitty but awesome street team, ARC readers, and of course… to YOU. Thank you for reading.

In Memoriam

Sending love into the universe for dearly departed Chickadees  Wendi Hales Rhodes and Tammy Barrentine who both passed while I was writing this book. You’re both missed by the book community already. Thank you for the love.

And sending love, butterflies, and hugs into the universe for my little almost-cousin MM who tragically took her own life just days before I hit publish on this book. I’m so, so fucking sorry that life became so filled with pain and darkness for you that you couldn’t see the light anymore. We will miss you. Please hug Auntie B and Auntie M for us.

***

Readers:

If you loved this book, check out The Dominator Series, where you’ll meet Tommy Ferrano, Killian’s buddy Dario Ferrano, and the women they will do anything to keep. The series is dark mafia romance and there are trigger warnings – Tommy is an extreme antihero - but it’s my most popular. Saved is a very dark spin-off with Alessandro, who might be my ultimate antihero.

I’ve also got The Nectar Trilogy, a dark and taboo vampire romance with an intensely possessive alpha vampire and a symbiotic connection that means everything.

I’m also the author of The Beautiful Biker Series, too, which has four books out so far at the time of publishing this with many more to come. This series is my second most popular series and explores friendship, brotherhood, and extended family while you watch the love story of a biker and his chosen woman unfold. Each story is about a different couple and there are all kinds of feel-good moments as well as laughs, tears, feels, and a lotta lotta sexy time.

I’ve also got Alphahole, my enemies-to-lovers roommate romance with all sorts of steam and laughs, and Good Girl about Aiden’s brother with Bad Girl releasing soon after Kill Game does about Ally Kingston, the pink-haired extrovert with SECRETS.

If you love sexy wolf shifters, there’s also Wild – a super duper sexy shifter romance with biting and knotting, and I’ve even written some sassy and fun lighter stories about a space matchmaking project in my series, Hot Alpha Alien Husbands.

Like twisted and dark fairytale retellings? Check out The Hollow Duet about a monster getting his happy ending. Oh yes, this goes there.

I hope you’ll check out more of my books. If you’ve already read some or all, thank you so much.

Feel free to join my reader group on Facebook, follow me on Instagram or Twitter, and / or sign up for my free newsletter to get news on upcoming releases, book signings, etc.

Thanks so much for helping me live my dream by buying my books or subscribing to read them through subscription programs.

If you enjoy them, I’d love it if you’d write a review – even a short one helps so much.

Much love,

DD Prince

Subscribe to The Scoop, DD Prince’s newsletter for news about new releases, freebies, and sales. http://ddprince.com/newsletter-signup/

Join DD’s Chickadees, a private group on Facebook, the author’s reader group for fun, teasers, author drop-ins, book talk, and most of all…shenanigans. http://facebook.com/groups/ddprincefangroup.

DD Prince’s Books:

This list may have been updated since publishing, so check ddprince.com or your local Amazon store for a full list of DD Prince’s books.

Dark Mafia Romance: dark romance with a debt flesh payment plot.

The Dominator

Arranged marriage. Mafia. Kidnapping.

The Dominator 2; Truth or Dare

Sex slave rescue romance with dark themes.

The Dominator 3; Unbound

More Tommy, More Dare; absolute domination!

Also available:

Saved

A spin off story best experienced after Unbound – (maybe DD’s darkest romance book yet). Lex isn’t the hero in this story. Holly is.

Contemporary/ enemies-to lovers:

Alphahole,

Good Girl,

Bad Girl

enemies-to-lovers contemporary and roommates romances

MC Romance:

Biker romance - romantic suspense with comedy, angst, steamy scenes, and a little bit of gritty darkness.

Books in series so far at the time of publishing this include:

Detour

Joyride

Scenic Route

Crossroads

Jaded (ETA late 2021)

Several more books also planned for this series.

Dark Paranormal Romance: Vampire dark romance / kidnapping. Capture romance with dark and taboo elements.

Nectar Trilogy (Includes Nectar, Ambrosia, and Essence)

The Hollow Duet

Includes novellas - Hollow and Holden

A dark and twisted erotic thriller. This is a retelling of the Headless Horseman legend with O-so-many twists and turns. The horseman hunts for a woman this year. And yes, this story goes THERE.

Dirty / fun / almost insta-love alien romance

Pen name – Scarlett Starkleigh

Hot Alpha Alien Husbands: Book 1 – Daxx and Jetta

Hot Alpha Alien Husbands: Book 2 – Zane and Tanya

Book 3 coming in 2022.

Sexy werewolf romance

Wild

(super-sexy with biting and knotting!)

More shifter books are planned!

This list may have been updated since this book was published so please check out DD Prince’s website for a full list of available books.

Follow DD Prince:

Facebook | Twitter | Website | Newsletter | Amazon

Contents

1

Violet

2

Killian

3

Violet

4

Killian

5

Violet

6

Killian

7

Violet

8

Killian

9

Violet

10

Violet

11

Killian

12

Violet

13

Violet

14

Killian

15

Violet

16

Killian

17

Violet

18

Killian

19

Violet

20

Killian

21

Violet

22

Killian

23

Violet

24

Killian

25

Violet

26

Killian

27

Violet

28

Killian

29

Violet

30

Killian

31

Violet

32

Killian

33

Violet

34

Killian

35

Violet

36

Killian

37

Violet

38

Killian

39

Violet

40

Killian

41

Violet

42

Killian

43

Violet

44

Killian

45

Violet

46

Killian

47

Violet

48

Killian

49

Violet

50

Killian

51

Violet

52

Killian

53

Violet

54

Violet

55

Killian

56

Violet

57

Killian

58

Killian

59

Violet

60

Killian

61

Violet

62

Killian

63

Violet

64

Violet

65

Killian

66

Violet

67

Killian

68

Violet

69

Killian

70

Violet

71

Ray

72

Violet

Acknowledgements & Book Notes

DD Prince’s Books: