Owning Violet
Page 53
Plus, we have a meeting scheduled later this afternoon. I thought it best that I approach her first and make sure we’re on good terms. Where better to approach her than her office, with all those windows, where everyone can watch us and see that we’re having a normal, work-related discussion?
Yeah, there are rumors that Violet’s torn between two lovers or some such bullshit, but I know the truth. And so does she. So does that asshole Zachary Lawrence, who has to realize his chances with Violet have withered up and died.
I haven’t spoken to Pilar at all. I don’t know where she fits in all of this, but I can’t worry about her right now. She might be pissed at me and keeping clear until the rumors die down.
That’s not her normal style, though. She loves to gossip, except for when it’s about her. Yet this little story might hit too close to home for her taste.
I hear the click of heels coming down the hallway and I glance up to find Violet approaching, looking fucking beautiful in a white dress that is far from virginal. Jesus, the clothes this woman wears tear me up inside. As she draws near, I see that there are little see-through lace inserts on each shoulder and around her waist, offering me a flash of skin. Yet there’s nothing overtly sexual about Violet. She screams elegance.
And all I can think of is how fast it would take to get her out of that dress so I can put my mouth on her skin.
“Ryder,” she says cautiously, stopping just in front of me. “What a surprise.”
“Not a pleasant one, I assume?” I arch a brow, feeling a little testy having her in front of me looking perfect while I feel a mess. I slept like shit last night. Woke up late and haven’t had anything to eat. I’m grumpy. Sexually frustrated.
And the cause of it all is standing before me, looking perfectly composed.
“Well, I’m not sure, after the words we had last night.” She touches her neck, her fingers brushing over the very spot where I marked her. I see that it’s faded to a light pink. If no one knew it was there, they wouldn’t notice it.
But I notice. I put that mark on her, and the urge to do it again is strong. Too strong.
“I’m willing to forgive and forget if you are,” I offer.
She studies me, then glances toward her office. “Would you like to come in and talk?”
“I would.”
I follow behind her, my gaze dropping to her ass, watching it shift beneath the white fabric of her skirt as she walks. I had my hands all over that bare ass last night, gripped her flesh tight as I held her to me …
“We have a meeting scheduled at three, right?” she asks as she steps behind her desk and settles in the chair, scooting it close so she can access her computer.
“We do, yes. That’s why I wanted to speak with you.” I don’t sit down, preferring to stand, hoping it gives me the advantage. “I wanted to make sure you were still okay with it.”
“Okay with what?” She glances up at me, her delicate brows furrowed. Now that we’re completely alone and I can study her unabashedly, I see the faint circles beneath her eyes, the weary way she’s looking at me. She’s tired, too.
Maybe last night’s fiasco affected her as strongly as it affected me.
“Okay that I lead the meeting. If you’re not comfortable with me being there …” I don’t finish the sentence, anxious to see what she says.
“I have no problem with you being there, Ryder. It’s our project that we’re working on together. Plus, we’re narrowing in closer on a decision. I need you in this meeting.” She pauses, her gaze dropping to her desk. “I know how to separate my personal life from my professional,” she admits softly.
“Good,” I say. “The team is excited to show you what they’ve come up with.”
The slight smile that curls her lips is like a punch to my gut. “I can’t wait to see what they come up with as well. They’re very talented.”
“So are you.” She is. I respect her opinions, the way she thinks. She’s not just a figurehead, as Pilar has said time and again. Violet cares about Fleur. It’s her legacy and she treats it as such.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
I hesitate, not knowing what else to add, so I start for the door. “So I’ll see you at three, then.”
“Yes. Fine.” I glance over my shoulder to see her lift her head, those big brown eyes meeting mine. Pausing, I turn to face her, waiting for her to say something else. Wanting to linger. Wanting to prolong my time with her.
This woman turns me into an idiot every time I’m in her presence. And I don’t like it.
“Ryder.” She murmurs my name, the sound of her voice sending a shock of lust through my veins. I take a step toward her desk, wishing we were back in my office because at least there, no one can see us. I’d give anything to throw her on top of that desk, shove her skirt up past her hips, rip her panties off, and fuck her. Hard. “I … I hate what happened last night.”
I shake my head, shake out the lust-ridden thoughts. “What exactly are you referring to? What we did in the closet?”
“No.” She tilts her head to the side, her cheeks going pink. That she blushes over this is adorable.
And I never think any woman is adorable.
“The fight between me and Lawrence, then,” I say.
She gives me a look. A look that says I should have known better than to do that, and she’s probably right. But she doesn’t say a word, thank Christ. She’s not my mama. Not that I know what it’s like to have a mother in my life …
Yeah, there are rumors that Violet’s torn between two lovers or some such bullshit, but I know the truth. And so does she. So does that asshole Zachary Lawrence, who has to realize his chances with Violet have withered up and died.
I haven’t spoken to Pilar at all. I don’t know where she fits in all of this, but I can’t worry about her right now. She might be pissed at me and keeping clear until the rumors die down.
That’s not her normal style, though. She loves to gossip, except for when it’s about her. Yet this little story might hit too close to home for her taste.
I hear the click of heels coming down the hallway and I glance up to find Violet approaching, looking fucking beautiful in a white dress that is far from virginal. Jesus, the clothes this woman wears tear me up inside. As she draws near, I see that there are little see-through lace inserts on each shoulder and around her waist, offering me a flash of skin. Yet there’s nothing overtly sexual about Violet. She screams elegance.
And all I can think of is how fast it would take to get her out of that dress so I can put my mouth on her skin.
“Ryder,” she says cautiously, stopping just in front of me. “What a surprise.”
“Not a pleasant one, I assume?” I arch a brow, feeling a little testy having her in front of me looking perfect while I feel a mess. I slept like shit last night. Woke up late and haven’t had anything to eat. I’m grumpy. Sexually frustrated.
And the cause of it all is standing before me, looking perfectly composed.
“Well, I’m not sure, after the words we had last night.” She touches her neck, her fingers brushing over the very spot where I marked her. I see that it’s faded to a light pink. If no one knew it was there, they wouldn’t notice it.
But I notice. I put that mark on her, and the urge to do it again is strong. Too strong.
“I’m willing to forgive and forget if you are,” I offer.
She studies me, then glances toward her office. “Would you like to come in and talk?”
“I would.”
I follow behind her, my gaze dropping to her ass, watching it shift beneath the white fabric of her skirt as she walks. I had my hands all over that bare ass last night, gripped her flesh tight as I held her to me …
“We have a meeting scheduled at three, right?” she asks as she steps behind her desk and settles in the chair, scooting it close so she can access her computer.
“We do, yes. That’s why I wanted to speak with you.” I don’t sit down, preferring to stand, hoping it gives me the advantage. “I wanted to make sure you were still okay with it.”
“Okay with what?” She glances up at me, her delicate brows furrowed. Now that we’re completely alone and I can study her unabashedly, I see the faint circles beneath her eyes, the weary way she’s looking at me. She’s tired, too.
Maybe last night’s fiasco affected her as strongly as it affected me.
“Okay that I lead the meeting. If you’re not comfortable with me being there …” I don’t finish the sentence, anxious to see what she says.
“I have no problem with you being there, Ryder. It’s our project that we’re working on together. Plus, we’re narrowing in closer on a decision. I need you in this meeting.” She pauses, her gaze dropping to her desk. “I know how to separate my personal life from my professional,” she admits softly.
“Good,” I say. “The team is excited to show you what they’ve come up with.”
The slight smile that curls her lips is like a punch to my gut. “I can’t wait to see what they come up with as well. They’re very talented.”
“So are you.” She is. I respect her opinions, the way she thinks. She’s not just a figurehead, as Pilar has said time and again. Violet cares about Fleur. It’s her legacy and she treats it as such.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
I hesitate, not knowing what else to add, so I start for the door. “So I’ll see you at three, then.”
“Yes. Fine.” I glance over my shoulder to see her lift her head, those big brown eyes meeting mine. Pausing, I turn to face her, waiting for her to say something else. Wanting to linger. Wanting to prolong my time with her.
This woman turns me into an idiot every time I’m in her presence. And I don’t like it.
“Ryder.” She murmurs my name, the sound of her voice sending a shock of lust through my veins. I take a step toward her desk, wishing we were back in my office because at least there, no one can see us. I’d give anything to throw her on top of that desk, shove her skirt up past her hips, rip her panties off, and fuck her. Hard. “I … I hate what happened last night.”
I shake my head, shake out the lust-ridden thoughts. “What exactly are you referring to? What we did in the closet?”
“No.” She tilts her head to the side, her cheeks going pink. That she blushes over this is adorable.
And I never think any woman is adorable.
“The fight between me and Lawrence, then,” I say.
She gives me a look. A look that says I should have known better than to do that, and she’s probably right. But she doesn’t say a word, thank Christ. She’s not my mama. Not that I know what it’s like to have a mother in my life …
