Owning Violet
Page 112
At least to us.
And that’s all that matters.
Epilogue
Violet
Six months later
The party is in full swing. Everyone who is anyone in London high society is here tonight, ready for the launch of the Violet Fowler Collection for Fleur Cosmetics.
And here I hide away in the bathroom, chewing on my nails nervously, not wanting to face them.
What if they hate it? We postponed the launch once already, due to our move to London. Pilar took great delight in that, complaining to Father that I wasn’t prepared, but he shut her down, defending me like a good father should.
That they’re still … lovers baffles me, but I can’t tell him what to do. Just like he can’t tell me what to do. We’ve come to a peaceful understanding that we don’t talk about Pilar. Ever.
Rose, though? She’s furious. She even quit Fleur for a while, going on a sabbatical. Sounds better than her leaving in a huff because she’s upset about her father’s romantic choices, which is the real reason she’s gone.
I miss her. I miss Lily, too. And Father. But I’m not alone here in London. I have my biggest support, my man. My lover. My Ryder.
Rising from the overstuffed couch in the powder room, I go to the mirror and study my reflection. I’m wearing makeup from my collection. From the special gold eye shadow created for the upcoming holidays to the deep red lipstick, everything on my face is by me. Early reviews have already come in and they’re full of praise, which reassures me, but still.
This party feels like everything. As if the success of the collection depends on their reception, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help myself.
I’ve never been so nervous over a work project in my life.
Someone knocks on the door I purposely locked and I turn to look at it, watching as whoever it is turns the handle but can’t get in.
“Sorry, occupied!” I yell, wishing whoever it is would just go away and leave me alone. I need five more minutes to gain my composure before I go out there and face the slaughter.
“Violet,” Ryder’s voice hisses from the other side. “Damn it, open the door.”
Rising from the couch, I rush to the door and undo the lock, letting him in. He strides inside, turning to face me as I relock the door, and I can see the irritation written all over his handsome face, the stiffness in his posture that indicates he’s frustrated.
“What the hell are you doing hiding out in here?”
I shrug, unable to answer. I don’t have a good enough explanation. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” he asks incredulously. “Of impressing them so much you won’t be able to fill all the orders that will pour in come Monday?”
I roll my eyes, suppressing the urge to laugh. He’s my biggest champion and I adore him for it. “They might hate it, you know. Some of the biggest names in fashion and beauty are out there just waiting to skewer me and my collection.”
“Who fucking cares? For every one who hates it, there will be fifty who love it.” He holds out his hand and waves his fingers. “Come here.”
I go to him without protest, letting him wrap me up in his arms. I rest my head against his chest, breathe in his delicious scent, as I close my eyes and absorb the comfort he offers me.
“What the hell are you wearing?” He pushes me away from him, his hands gripping my shoulders as he rakes his gaze over my body. My dress is blood-red lace, a sleeveless column of fabric that skims my body to my ankles. The bodice is open and plunges deep, all the way to my navel, exposing plenty of skin in what I hope isn’t in an obscene way.
Judging how Ryder is looking at me, it might be borderline obscene after all.
“You don’t like it?”
“I fucking love it, but my God, Violet. You’re completely exposed.” He sounds … horrified. Like he’s my father or something, which I find so infinitely amusing I start to laugh.
This only makes him scowl.
“You’re not wearing a bra, are you?”
I glance down at my exposed chest. The lace perfectly covers up my breasts, thanks to body tape. “How can I? You’d see it.”
“Right,” he says tightly, his nostrils flaring.
I decide to goad him. Something I’ve become quite skilled at. “Let me tell you a little secret—I’m not wearing any panties, either.”
His shoulders fall the slightest bit. “Fucking great.” He looks so handsome tonight in his black suit and the tie I bought him to replace the one I ruined so long ago. I told him to wear it, and now we match perfectly.
“Easy access for later?” I step into him and kiss him, then wipe away the smudge my lipstick left on his mouth. “I marked you.”
“Good.” He slings his arm around my waist and holds me close. “I love it when you mark me.”
“I never do.”
“That’s why I love it. It’s such a rare occasion. I, on the other hand, mark you all the time.” He runs light, sucking kisses along the length of my neck and I bat him away, but it’s no use. Not that I want him to stop.
“Save that for later,” I murmur, tilting my head to give him better access. “We should get out there.”
He lifts his head. “Are you ready?”
I nod, ignoring the nervous trembling that threatens to overtake me. I can do this. I’ve made plenty of public appearances before. I’ll be fine. Really.
“Then let’s go, baby.” He releases his hold on me but takes my hand, entwining our fingers and bringing our linked hands up to his mouth. He presses a kiss to my knuckles, his gaze hot, his voice deep, as he whispers, “I love you.”
And that’s all that matters.
Epilogue
Violet
Six months later
The party is in full swing. Everyone who is anyone in London high society is here tonight, ready for the launch of the Violet Fowler Collection for Fleur Cosmetics.
And here I hide away in the bathroom, chewing on my nails nervously, not wanting to face them.
What if they hate it? We postponed the launch once already, due to our move to London. Pilar took great delight in that, complaining to Father that I wasn’t prepared, but he shut her down, defending me like a good father should.
That they’re still … lovers baffles me, but I can’t tell him what to do. Just like he can’t tell me what to do. We’ve come to a peaceful understanding that we don’t talk about Pilar. Ever.
Rose, though? She’s furious. She even quit Fleur for a while, going on a sabbatical. Sounds better than her leaving in a huff because she’s upset about her father’s romantic choices, which is the real reason she’s gone.
I miss her. I miss Lily, too. And Father. But I’m not alone here in London. I have my biggest support, my man. My lover. My Ryder.
Rising from the overstuffed couch in the powder room, I go to the mirror and study my reflection. I’m wearing makeup from my collection. From the special gold eye shadow created for the upcoming holidays to the deep red lipstick, everything on my face is by me. Early reviews have already come in and they’re full of praise, which reassures me, but still.
This party feels like everything. As if the success of the collection depends on their reception, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help myself.
I’ve never been so nervous over a work project in my life.
Someone knocks on the door I purposely locked and I turn to look at it, watching as whoever it is turns the handle but can’t get in.
“Sorry, occupied!” I yell, wishing whoever it is would just go away and leave me alone. I need five more minutes to gain my composure before I go out there and face the slaughter.
“Violet,” Ryder’s voice hisses from the other side. “Damn it, open the door.”
Rising from the couch, I rush to the door and undo the lock, letting him in. He strides inside, turning to face me as I relock the door, and I can see the irritation written all over his handsome face, the stiffness in his posture that indicates he’s frustrated.
“What the hell are you doing hiding out in here?”
I shrug, unable to answer. I don’t have a good enough explanation. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” he asks incredulously. “Of impressing them so much you won’t be able to fill all the orders that will pour in come Monday?”
I roll my eyes, suppressing the urge to laugh. He’s my biggest champion and I adore him for it. “They might hate it, you know. Some of the biggest names in fashion and beauty are out there just waiting to skewer me and my collection.”
“Who fucking cares? For every one who hates it, there will be fifty who love it.” He holds out his hand and waves his fingers. “Come here.”
I go to him without protest, letting him wrap me up in his arms. I rest my head against his chest, breathe in his delicious scent, as I close my eyes and absorb the comfort he offers me.
“What the hell are you wearing?” He pushes me away from him, his hands gripping my shoulders as he rakes his gaze over my body. My dress is blood-red lace, a sleeveless column of fabric that skims my body to my ankles. The bodice is open and plunges deep, all the way to my navel, exposing plenty of skin in what I hope isn’t in an obscene way.
Judging how Ryder is looking at me, it might be borderline obscene after all.
“You don’t like it?”
“I fucking love it, but my God, Violet. You’re completely exposed.” He sounds … horrified. Like he’s my father or something, which I find so infinitely amusing I start to laugh.
This only makes him scowl.
“You’re not wearing a bra, are you?”
I glance down at my exposed chest. The lace perfectly covers up my breasts, thanks to body tape. “How can I? You’d see it.”
“Right,” he says tightly, his nostrils flaring.
I decide to goad him. Something I’ve become quite skilled at. “Let me tell you a little secret—I’m not wearing any panties, either.”
His shoulders fall the slightest bit. “Fucking great.” He looks so handsome tonight in his black suit and the tie I bought him to replace the one I ruined so long ago. I told him to wear it, and now we match perfectly.
“Easy access for later?” I step into him and kiss him, then wipe away the smudge my lipstick left on his mouth. “I marked you.”
“Good.” He slings his arm around my waist and holds me close. “I love it when you mark me.”
“I never do.”
“That’s why I love it. It’s such a rare occasion. I, on the other hand, mark you all the time.” He runs light, sucking kisses along the length of my neck and I bat him away, but it’s no use. Not that I want him to stop.
“Save that for later,” I murmur, tilting my head to give him better access. “We should get out there.”
He lifts his head. “Are you ready?”
I nod, ignoring the nervous trembling that threatens to overtake me. I can do this. I’ve made plenty of public appearances before. I’ll be fine. Really.
“Then let’s go, baby.” He releases his hold on me but takes my hand, entwining our fingers and bringing our linked hands up to his mouth. He presses a kiss to my knuckles, his gaze hot, his voice deep, as he whispers, “I love you.”
