Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(44)

And in the process, a man who had only tried to help them had gotten hurt.

So yeah, that pissed Violet off.

“Good, brat,” she heard Kaz say. “No, I told you I was going home … Shit, do you want me to call you from my house phone? Hang up and I’ll do that. We can play that game if you want to, Ruslan.”

At that point, Violet decided to leave Kaz to his private conversation with his brother. She didn’t feel right spying on him like that, after all. He had already told her to look around. Wasn’t that enough?

As she stepped further into the bedroom, flicking on the lights as she passed the switch on the wall, her nervousness returned. She knew better than to be here—knew this was ten shades of stupid, and getting worse by the second.

Violet had worked particularly hard to make her father feel at least slightly more comfortable with trusting her again. She hadn’t intended to disobey him, not like she currently was, but something in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her drop Kaz. While her father made every effort to act as if the Russians didn’t matter in their world, it seemed like fate had entirely different plans what with the way it kept throwing Kaz back into her path.

Or rather, the way he kept putting himself there.

She was starting to think she didn't mind.

Even if it was wrong.

And maybe Violet knew that if she really wanted to follow the rules set out for her, and please her father in the process, she should have told Kaz to leave hours earlier, when he showed up at her place. She shouldn’t have indulged his argument, or let him touch her or kiss her. She definitely shouldn't have let him take her into Brooklyn, never mind Little Odessa.

Each time she didn’t say “no” to something, she broke the rules a little more with something else. She pushed those boundaries a little further.

She was saying “f*ck you” a little louder.

But what was she really doing wrong?

Violet was just a woman. Kaz was just a man.

She didn’t really understand why their last names had to factor into it at all.

A peek of gray marble caught Violet’s eye as she passed the unmade bed. A door, only slightly open, made her curious. What was it that he had said about closets?

He didn’t hide his skeletons in there.

Violet found a connecting bath when she pushed the door open the rest of the way, but another door had been left wide open at the other side of the bathroom, and a light was left on. She could tell it was a closet of sorts, and once again, curiosity got the better of her.

Before she knew it, Violet was looking over an assortment of watches. She had kicked her heels off at the doorway, and she discovered that Kaz had a taste for black clothes and a small collection of Converse.

She wouldn’t have taken him for the type, all things considered.

“What are you doing in here?”

Violet didn’t start at Kaz’s voice coming from the doorway connecting to the bathroom. She just continued admiring his vast closet.

“You have more clothes than I do,” she said.

“I doubt that.”

“Don’t. You do.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin. “I like things.”

“Things like watches and Converse?”

“Yes, on the first, and when I was a bit younger and could get away with them, for the second.”

Violet nodded, more to herself than him. “And you’ve never thought to get rid of them?”

“Why would I get rid of them?”

His question had come out sounding so confused that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t wear them, you said.”

Kaz shrugged. “I’m not seeing your point.”

“You’re one of those, then,” Violet said.

“One of—what?”

“You probably have something in this closet from at least ten years ago, but because it might still fit and you may wear it again someday, you won’t get rid of it.”

“Wrong,” he said.

Violet straightened, turning to stare him down. “I bet I could find something. I probably already did, but overlooked it because your Converse collection distracted me.”

“I never said I didn’t wear the Converse, just that I don’t wear them as often. And I bet you own at least thirty pairs of shoes, if not more, so I’m not sure where this conversation is going.”

“Ten,” Violet said.

Kaz leaned against the doorjamb. “Ten what?”

“Ten pairs of shoes. Two of which are black because it goes with everything. One pair of flats. Sneakers. Two sets of kitten heels, pink and red. And four other heels that make my legs look great. Nice try, though.”

“Huh.”

“Surprising, is it?” she asked.

“Considering who your mother is, it kind of is.”

Violet tossed him a simpering smile. “Surface appearances lie, Kaz. You should know that better than most people. But, to be fair, those ten pairs of shoes can interchange at any time depending on weather, season, or how pissed off I am at any given thing.”

“And what do you do with the old ones?”

“Unlike you, I don’t keep them.”

He laughed, hard and loud. “So did you find what you were looking for?”