Not even close. My soul is hard. As hard as that damned diamond Violet is touching. Hard and black and ugly, and crazy fucker that I am, I revel in the blackness. The darkness. Pilar has told me more than once that sometimes I scare her.
Good. I should scare her. I may be the smooth businessman at work but during my off time, I can relax. Can become more my true self. Underneath the expensive suit and high-end watch is a man who could have easily become a hardened fucking criminal in and out of jail. Hell, I’ve been in jail. More than once.
But I’d been a juvenile and my record is sealed. Thank Christ.
If Violet knew about my past, she’d probably freak. She’s one giant ball of insecurities. Something happened to her, something no one really talks about that sent her spiraling out of control. Daddy locked her up at the most expensive and discreet mental health facility money could buy. She came out a few months later refreshed and medicated, back at work at Fleur and leaving every employee she worked with full of envy. Supposedly, they hate her.
At least, that’s the story Pilar told me on the drive home from the restaurant last night.
Blood thrumming with anticipation, I stroll past Violet’s window, pausing at her open door and knocking before I enter. I don’t bother waiting for her to acknowledge me; I just stride inside, stopping short in front of her desk when I get a good look at her.
And just about have a heart attack.
Jesus, what is she wearing? A sleek black dress that hugs her breasts and reveals her slender arms, with her long dark hair up, exposing her neck, wavy tendrils brushing against her skin. The look is simple but effective.
As in, one look at her and I’m immediately hungry for more. More skin, more Violet, more everything.
“Ryder.” She blinks up at me, those big brown eyes wide and full of shock. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“We have a meeting in …” I check my Rolex, then return my gaze to hers. “Five minutes. Remember?” I remain standing, my gaze dropping to the neckline of her dress. It gapes slightly at the front, allowing me a glimpse of shadowy cleavage, and I catch sight of the sheer white lace bra covering her full, tempting breasts.
I immediately break out in a sweat.
Her glossy peach-colored lips part as she stares at me. Hell, I’m going to fantasize later about my dick sticky with peach gloss—I can just see it. She gives herself a little shake. Like she’s just as entranced as I am. Interesting. “Of course I remember. I was just about to head to the conference room.”
“Same here. I’ll go with you.” I don’t bother asking, because I’m not about to give her the opportunity to refuse me.
“I was waiting for my sister. She’s going to sit in on the meeting too.” Violet nibbles her lower lip, her teeth sinking into peachy lush flesh, and holy fuck, who knew that sort of innocent look could be so sexy?
“I don’t mind waiting for Rose.” I’ve spoken with her before. She’s friendlier than Violet, much more open. “If you don’t.”
Violet tilts her head back, contemplating me, and I realize what a power position I have over her. She’s seated; she’s the one behind the twenty-thousand-dollar desk. Truly, she’s the one with the power over me, career-wise.
But towering over her, I know that in this moment I’m all that she sees, all that she hears. And I fucking love it.
“No. I don’t mind.” She busies herself, gathering a notepad and a pen, grabbing her cell phone and setting it on top so everything is in a nice, neat pile. Her office is clean, not a hint of clutter to be found anywhere, and I bet where she lives is the same way.
Clearly this is a woman who needs some messing up so she can get a little dirty. Have some excitement in her life for once. I get the feeling she’s orderly to a fault.
That sounds infinitely boring.
“She should be here any second,” Violet says when I remain quiet, as if she’s desperate to fill the silence.
Watching her, seeing her hesitate, feeling the discomfort radiate off of her in near visible waves, I’m even more confident my plan will work. She’s so vulnerable, so unsure, such a damn easy mark. And she’s beautiful. Fucking beautiful, with a scent that drives me wild.
I can smell her now, and I want to inhale her like a drug. I hear her shift in her seat, see her lick her already glossy upper lip, and my cock hardens. What would she do if I pulled her out of her chair, spread her out on top of her desk, and fucked her right here? Anyone could pass by and see us, but we’d be too overcome with lust to care …
Damn. I rub my hand across the back of my neck, tearing my gaze away from her. She’s fucking tempting. This is the most excited I’ve been about a woman in a while. I make her uncomfortable, though. I sensed that last night and I’m sensing it again. Right now. I need to try and put her at ease, but …
Either I can use that edgy discomfort to my advantage or I can throw it all out in the open and see how she reacts.
I let my gaze return to her, tracking her every movement, remaining locked on her fingers as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and fidgets uneasily. I’d like to be those fingers. Touching her, learning how soft her skin really is. “You want me to leave, don’t you,” I say, because that’s completely logical.
Her gaze flashes to mine. She looks miserably guilty. “Not at all.”
“Because I make you uncomfortable.” I pause, waiting for an answer, but she says nothing. “I don’t want to upset you, Violet,” I lie.
But I like affecting her. It turns me on.
Her eyes now flash with a new emotion. Amusement. “I’m not a delicate flower who needs coddling, Ryder.” She checks her phone, huffs out a sound of irritation, and stands, gathering her things and pressing them to her chest. “We don’t have time to wait for Rose. Let’s go.”
Well, well, well. A show of a personality. I like it.
I fall into step beside her as she strides the short distance down the hall to the conference room. I hurry ahead of her at the last moment, holding the door open, and she strides in before me, murmuring her thanks. I let my gaze fall to her ass, appreciating the way it shifts and moves beneath the fabric of her dress. The simple black heels she wears are really nothing close to simple, considering that recognizable red I see flash as she walks.
Christian Louboutins. I know because Pilar says she feels sexy when she wears them, and so she wears them all the damn time. I swear the man designs shoes so that women feel sexy and men want their women wearing Louboutins and nothing else when they fuck them.
“Is this everyone from your team? Are they ready?” She waves at the two men and two women sitting at the table waiting for us before she turns to face me, determination written all over her pretty face. I nod in response, immediately impressed.
“Good.” She strides to the head of the table and pulls out a chair, settling in with a polite smile on her face. “Ready whenever you are, Mr. McKay.”
So we’re back to the formalities. Well, two can play at this. “Can’t wait to discuss your new project, Violet.” I settle in at the other end of the table, thankful we’re not in one of the bigger conference rooms. Otherwise, we’d be shouting at one another.
Her gaze flickers at my saying her name but other than that, no reaction. “As you know, I’ve been working on creating my own cosmetics line. Something similar to what my grandmother did when she first started Fleur.”
“Yes, we’re all aware. I hope you don’t mind, though, that we didn’t bring any initial concepts to you.” I glance around the table at the other members of my packaging team. “We wanted to hear what you are looking for first. Best to come in with no preconceived notions, don’t you think?”
“I do.” She nods, looking pleased. “The line will be small. Sold at only the most high-end stores in a limited-edition run. We’ll be using only the finest quality pigments and ingredients. I’m a big believer in saturated color. The cosmetics will be natural but vibrant.”
Violet has turned into the effi
cient businesswoman. She’s hot in this mode. “What sort of packaging were you looking for?” I pull out my iPhone, ready to take a few notes, knowing that everyone else at this table is taking notes too and would give me theirs. I prefer to listen. Absorb.
Observe.
“I was talking about it with Rose earlier and we both agreed it’s imperative to get the packaging just right. It will make or break the success of the line, you know,” she continues, sending me a pointed look.
I sit up straighter. No chance am I going to disappoint her with this. “Packaging is definitely important, I agree.”
“Definitely. It has to grab the customer’s eye. It has to feel rich and elegant, glossy and perfect in their hands. And that’s what I want. Glossy perfection.” She tilts her chin up, those dark, fathomless brown eyes meeting mine. I’d call her lips glossy perfection, but I don’t think she’d appreciate hearing it. “Those are the two key words. Plus I want something sexy, sophisticated. Rich. It needs to say ‘exclusive’ without screaming it.”
“So nothing too obvious.” I type hurriedly in the notes section on my phone, listing her key words.
“Exactly.” She glances up when the door opens, and I turn to see Rose hurrying in. She settles in a seat close to mine, sending me a smile before she looks at her sister.
“Sorry I’m late. I had another meeting,” Rose explains. “It just let out.”
“We were talking about glossy perfection,” Violet tells her.
“Right!” Rose turns to me, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face. She’s as stunning as her sister, but I find Violet infinitely more attractive. “You know, kind of like Violet’s lips. Did you happen to notice them today?”
I swallow hard. Damn Rose Fowler for bringing up her sister’s sexy-as-hell peach-glossed lips! “I didn’t,” I lie smoothly.
“Hmm, well, I think even the color is perfect. It would coordinate well with Fleur’s current palette.” Rose waves a hand toward her sister and I lift my gaze, meeting Violet’s across the table.
She’s blushing, licking her glossed lips and making me fucking crazy. “What’s the name?” I ask.
“What?” Violet blinks, reminding me of a trapped animal about to face her doom.
“Of the lip gloss you’re wearing.” I smile blandly.
“Oh. It’s called Peachy Pie. Part of the Lickable line.” She blushes more and I’m captivated. I have never in my life encountered a woman so shy, so unsure of herself and her sexuality. Businesswise, she seems on it. Yet even a hint of flirtation comes into the conversation and she’s a bashful schoolgirl, completely unaware of her power.
The contradiction is arousing. And if we’re going to sit around and talk about lickable lips and peach pie for the entire meeting …
I’m fucking done for.
Chapter Five
Violet
“He’s not acting right.”
“Does he ever act right?” Rose asks with an evil laugh, but I ignore her. All I can focus on is Zachary and the way he’s ignoring me. Instead of spending time with me like he usually does, he’s allowing Pilar to run her hands all over him. She flashes him simpering glances what feels like every two seconds and that fake trill of a laugh, which grates on my nerves every time I hear it.
We didn’t go to dinner alone tonight as we’d originally planned. Instead we’re at an industry cocktail party along with various people from Fleur Cosmetics. I didn’t want to go. Tried my best to beg off, but Zachary wouldn’t hear of it. He’s in full-blown suck-up mode at the moment, ready to do whatever it takes to please Father and any of the other executives paying attention to him so he can secure that job promotion in London.
It doesn’t matter if I’m left alone in the process. It doesn’t seem to matter either that we’re together yet he allows Pilar to hang all over him. I’ve never doubted our relationship more than I do at this particular moment.
Ever.
“We were supposed to go to dinner by ourselves,” I tell Rose as we stand on the opposite side of the room from where Zachary is. I’m watching him, sipping my glass of wine distractedly. “I forgot about this stupid party and so did he, but we thought we’d make the best of it. Put in an appearance and leave—those were his exact words.” I slowly shake my head, remembering how earnest he’d seemed. How he promised we wouldn’t linger long. What a lie. He came here to see Pilar, not to spend any time with me. “We came together, but the moment we entered the doors he took off. Hasn’t spoken to me since, and we’ve been here over an hour.”
“Are you saying he ditched you?” Rose sounds shocked, though with a hint of sarcasm.
I nod and sip from my wineglass again, surprised to find it empty. I drank that faster than I thought. My head is feeling lighter than usual, too. “Can you believe it?”
“No, I honestly can’t. He’s always so attentive. Sometimes too attentive.” Rose rolls her eyes.
“Not tonight,” I mutter, feeling a little looser. Must be the wine. When one of the wait staff suddenly appears, I reach out and grab a fresh glass, leaving my empty one on his tray. “Thank you,” I say, beaming at him. He smiles and nearly trips over his own feet.
“What’s up with you?” Rose asks the moment the waiter leaves, sounding incredulous. “You’re being weird.”
“How am I being weird?” I drink more wine, enjoying the buzz of the alcohol as it courses through my veins and how it heats my skin. My hair is down, the dress I’m wearing is black and sleeveless, with delicate sheer lace along the shoulders and stretched across the bodice. I have on the highest, shiniest black heels I can muster, the skirt of my dress hits mid-thigh, and maybe it’s the outfit mixed with the wine, but …
I felt pretty, confident, as I prepared for the evening earlier. The day had been positive from the start. I gathered a collection of inspirational photos and sent them to Ryder so he and his team understood my vision. Lily and I met for lunch, and for once she wasn’t drunk by noon or being followed by endless paparazzi. We had a positive, sober conversation. I’d been excited about tonight despite usually dreading these sorts of events.
My excitement withered up and died the moment I realized just how disinterested Zachary was, particularly in me. I don’t understand his hot-and-cold moods. I never have.
“I don’t know. Griping about Zachary—and you never complain about him. Drinking wine like it’s water when you have one drink maximum at these wretchedly awful parties, and usually just drink club soda. And you flirted with that waiter,” Rose says pointedly.
“I did not.”
“Did so. You smiled at him and almost sent him sprawling.”
“So?” I’m oddly pleased that I could send someone sprawling. “Smiling at a stranger. Is that a crime?”
“When you’re usually too worried and fidgety over what other people think of you, yes. It’s a crime for you, Violet Fowler.” Rose slowly shakes her head, surveying the quietly murmuring crowd before us. “God, this is awful. You, on the other hand, feel like a breath of fresh air.”
“I’m not acting different.” Fine. I am acting different. I’m frustrated with my boyfriend’s behavior. If he doesn’t care about me, then why should I care about him?
I can’t even believe I’m thinking like this.
“You are, but whatever. I’m going to enjoy it. Ply you with more wine and hope you make a spectacle.” Rose starts laughing when I shoot her a deathly glare.
“Stop,” I tell her firmly, going into big-sister mode. “There will be no spectacles made tonight, especially by me.”
Rose lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, isn’t that a shame?”
“What, you want me to make a fool of myself? Become sloppy drunk and get all crazy like Lily?” I continue drinking because it’s calming my frazzled nerves. Not because I want to act the fool. Hearing Pilar laugh, watching as Zachary leans into her and whispers in her ear, is making me upset. But I refuse to confront him. What good would that do me? I’d end up ashamed in the mor
ning. Zachary would make me feel guilty for causing a scene.
I’d rather pretend it’s not happening, no matter how hard that is.
“You shouldn’t knock her,” Rose says quietly. “She’s trying.”
I immediately feel awful. Using my older sister as a punching bag is not my normal style. “I know she is. I had lunch with her today, remember?” I polish off the rest of my glass of wine and snatch Rose’s glass from her hand. She stares at me, her eyes wide, mouth open in shock, and I shrug, not bothering to acknowledge what I just did.
“He’s an ass,” Rose mutters under her breath, and I know exactly who she’s talking about. In fact, I agree. Not that I’m going to say anything.
Ignoring her, I sip from my pilfered glass, purposely keeping my gaze averted from Zachary. Watching him with Pilar only makes me angry. And I don’t feel like being angry tonight. Or upset. Or jealous. Or any of those other, horrible, self-defeating emotions I’m so used to dealing with.
There’s a bit of freedom in not worrying what your boyfriend thinks about you as you drink yourself into oblivion. I should remember that. Revel in it.
Soon you’ll be able to revel in that particular feeling all the time. Especially once Zachary is in London and realizes he doesn’t want to be with you any longer.
I shove the nagging voice in my head firmly to the side.
“Oh my, look who’s heading in our direction,” Rose murmurs, giving me just enough warning to glance up and see Ryder McKay coming toward us, devastatingly handsome in a dark suit and tie, his hair in casual disarray, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam that’s directed toward me.
And me only.
“Ladies.” He stops in front of us, blocking my view of Zachary with Pilar completely, which is probably a good thing. “You’re both looking especially beautiful this evening.”
“Charming as ever, aren’t you, Ryder?” Rose laughs when he offers her a quick wink and jealousy rises within me, dark and ugly. Ridiculous. I’m with Zachary, no matter how much he’s behaving like a bad boyfriend at this particular moment. It shouldn’t matter to me if Rose and Ryder flirt. Father would love it. He’s trying his best to create a monopoly within the company. Since he feels like he’s already lost Lily completely, he’s trying his best to steer both Rose and me toward what he believes are the right choices.