Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(24)
But then the ice melts and he smiles slowly, the crinkles that form around his eyes charming and telling me that he does smile more often than it might seem, which somehow reassures me.
“Violet. What a pleasant surprise.” He stretches to his full height and waves a hand at me. “Close the door.”
“Oh.” I jump a little, running my fingertips over my hair, which I pulled into a no-nonsense, sleek ponytail, as I turn to look at the door. “Um, what I want to talk about won’t take long, I promise.”
“But you want privacy, I assume?” His delectably deep voice washes over me and I repress the shiver that wants to overtake me at his words. He can make “privacy” sound like a dirty sexual act he wants to perform on me and me alone. I glance over my shoulder to find his head tilted, his gaze seemingly locked on my backside. “Shut the door, Violet.”
His demand tells me I shouldn’t argue, so I don’t. I go to the door, the plush rug I walk across softening my steps so that I don’t even hear the click of my heels, and I very carefully close it all the way. The firm click sounds loud in the otherwise silent room, indicating I’m alone with him. There are no exposed glass windows on this floor. Everything’s encased and closed off, so no one knows I’m in this office by myself with Ryder. Excitement buzzes along my skin like a shock wave and I tell myself this is no big deal. It’s just Ryder.
But there is nothing casual about this man. I’m drawn to him like those stupid moths drawn to a flame. The ones that get closer and closer until their wings sizzle and their bodies smoke. When it’s over, they fall to the ground like burned little crisps.
I turn to face him, leaning against the door, suddenly needing the space between us so he doesn’t get the wrong idea of why I’m here. Or I don’t get the wrong reason as to why I’m here. The last thing I want is to get burned.
“Is everything all right?” He rounds the desk and comes to stop in front of it, leaning against the center. Clasping his hands in front of him, he holds them loosely together, drawing my attention. He has large hands. Long arms. A broad chest and shoulders. His expression is neutral, though just as handsome as usual. “I know the last time I saw you, you were quite upset.”
Oh, leave it to Ryder to get right to the point. He minces no words, this man.
“I wanted to … thank you for last night,” I start, hating the hesitation, the nervous shake in my voice.
He frowns, looking confused. “Thank me for what?”
“For not making what happened between Zachary and me any worse.” The ranting voicemails and crazy text messages Zachary had barraged my phone with long into the night had left me shaken. I’d hardly slept and was buzzing from the Venti dark roast I gulped down before I even arrived at work. “You were very calm, and I appreciate that.”
“You were the one who was not so calm. A rather impressive show of anger you offered us, Violet.” The little smile that curls his lips makes my heart flutter. I like it when he says my name and he does it quite often. He makes it sound like an endearment. Ridiculous. “Are you feeling better this morning?”
“Not really. But I’ll get through it.” I shake my head, ignoring the look of concern on his handsome face. “I just … I wanted to ask you a favor.”
“What sort of favor?”
“I was hoping that I could ask for your agreement to remain silent in regard to what happened last night.” My request sounds completely convoluted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me to screw off and get out of his office. Not that he ever would, but … I am making a complete muck of this. I know it.
“You’re asking for my silence,” he says softly.
I nod and press my lips together. I don’t want to say anything more for fear I’ll sound like a complete idiot.
He watches me, his gaze roving over my body in such a languid manner my skin heats, everything within me coming alive. My breath stalls in my throat as I wait for his answer and when he finally lifts his gaze to mine once more, I feel dizzy. Like I’m still drunk on too many glasses of wine.
“Your dress matches my tie,” he says, throwing me off kilter with his change of subject.
“What?” I take a few steps toward him, squinting as I stare at his broad chest. The solid red tie he wears is almost an exact match. “Oh. Yes. You’re right.”
“Like we planned it.”
“You didn’t get the memo?” I smile. I can’t help myself. I should be feeling down and out, crying into my bowl of Cheerios this morning over the loss of my boyfriend, but I’m not.
I’m excited to be in this man’s presence, as crazy as it seems. The way he looks at me, he makes me feel incredibly aware that I’m a woman.
“I must’ve missed that one.” His answering smile is brief and dazzling. “You look beautiful. Like you could grab Lawrence by the balls and wrench them off cleanly, all while you have a giant smile on your face.”
I burst out laughing at the image. It’s crude but empowering. “Hopefully he’ll stay away from me today.”
“If he’s smart he will.” Ryder’s smile fades. “I can keep quiet, Violet. But I’m going to have to ask you for a favor in return.”
“All right.” Curiosity runs through me as I wait for his response. I’m thinking he likes to do this. The pausing, the calculated, well-thought-out statements he makes. He enjoys the anticipation and I’ve come to a new appreciation for it myself, especially when he’s the one who’s delivering it.