Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(22)
Reaching out, I grab hold of Pilar’s arm, clamping my fingers tight. “We were outside talking,” I stress as I lower my mouth closer to her ear. “What the f*ck are you doing?”
She ignores my question and doesn’t say a word, pulling herself out of my grip and rubbing her arm as if I hurt her. And this bitch likes it when I hurt her. I’ve done it enough in the past.
“Let’s go.” Lawrence brushes right past me, sending me a furious glare before he takes hold of Violet’s wrist, gripping it like a manacle, and starts to escort her back into the party. But she shakes out of his grasp, stepping away from him and nearly backing into me.
“Don’t touch me.”
He turns to face her. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Violet shakes her head. “No. You’re not calling the shots any longer. We’re through, Zachary. I can’t live like this. You don’t really want to be with me. You want what my name can give you, what my father can give you, but you don’t love me. You just love what I represent.”
Lawrence stares at her, breathing so heavily I can hear him. “We’re not having this discussion here. Not now,” he whispers, his voice almost a hiss. “We’re leaving, Violet. We’ll go back to your place and talk about this. Privately.”
“I’m not leaving with you. You’re not coming over.” She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her breasts, which I can see through the lace front of her dress. She’s furious, her cheeks are a flaming pink and her eyes blaze with unrestrained anger and hurt, but she won’t back down. It’s Lawrence who finally gives in first.
“This isn’t over,” he says, pointing at her accusingly. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow when you’re rational and actually sober.”
“I feel more rational now than I ever have before. Funny, how a couple of glasses of wine and the truth can make everything clear. And trust me, there’s nothing left to discuss.” Her voice is cold, her expression defiant. “You can go to London free of me. I’m sure that’s what you secretly wanted, right? You just didn’t know how to break it to me? Didn’t want my father upset with you?”
He says nothing. There’s nothing to say, since I’m assuming Violet’s words hit pretty close to the truth. Lawrence merely turns and strides away without a backward glance, heading back into the cocktail party. Pilar sends me a triumphant smile before she chases after him, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor.
Leaving me alone with Violet.
“Well.” She drops her arms to her sides and releases a shuddery breath, turning to face me. “That was unexpected.”
“Very,” I agree.
She rubs a hand across her forehead. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” I automatically say, frowning. I don’t apologize to anyone. So why her?
“It needed to be done. It should’ve happened long ago.” She shrugs, and I swear I can see her sadness settle over her like a heavy blanket. “I should find Rose. I’m sure she’ll come home with me.”
I’m about to offer to escort her home but I clamp my lips shut, deciding against it. I can’t push too hard too soon. I need to process what unfolded, anyway. Figure out a new plan of attack. I still can’t believe what just happened. We broke the two of them up much faster than I thought we could. It was easy.
Almost too easy.
“Wasn’t it amazing? She was so incredibly angry. I didn’t know stupid Violet Fowler could act so … unhinged.” Pilar clasps her hands together. “Did you see her face? Wish I would’ve had a camera to capture it. Talk about shock. I’m surprised she didn’t faint.”
I’d come home from the party less than an hour after the confrontation, planning to head straight to bed. But when I opened my door, I found Pilar sitting on the couch, curled up in one of my old T-shirts and nothing else. She seemed edgy, excited, almost manic.
There went my peaceful night.
“I couldn’t miss it. I was there, too, you know,” I remind her. Violet had been beautiful despite the anger, the pain, and the sadness.
“He was an incredibly easy mark.” When I meet her gaze questioningly, she waves her fingers at me. “Zachary, darling. He caved like a cheap suitcase. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” She taps her index finger against her pursed lips before shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it’s done. The power couple is no more. He’ll chase after me until he leaves for London. Then it’s over and we’ll both get what we want.”
I’m not so sure about that. “Ever think he could be pissed at you for what happened?” I would be. Fucking around with Pilar ruined his good thing. Who knew how old man Fowler would feel when he realized Lawrence and his daughter broke up, especially if he discovered the details of how it happened? And did this put Pilar in jeopardy?
“I spoke to him. Remember?” She gives a dismissive laugh. “I ran after him like the grieving, how-can-I-make-everything-better mistress. He said he wasn’t angry with me or that we were caught. He just wasn’t pleased with how it ended, with an argument near the bathrooms during a cocktail party. He thought that was rather … cheap.”
Jesus. Only Zachary Lawrence would care about appearances during a nasty public breakup. He should be thankful no one else caught them. What the hell’s wrong with this dude? “You’re lucky, then. If I were him, I’d hate your guts for destroying my sure thing.”