Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(36)

“In your dreams,” she returns.

“It’s going to happen.”

“How? That girl is as tight as a virgin kept under lock and key. And closed off like a little ice queen, too. Zachary told me she’s a terrible lay.”

More like he’s an awful, selfish * who didn’t know how to meet Violet’s needs. “I’ll find out if that’s true or not on my own terms, thank you very much.”

“God.” She’s leaving. Thank Christ. “You don’t listen to me. Fine, have fun f*cking around with your little boring baby. Can’t wait to see how she puts the spark in your eyes while I’m off getting f*cked like crazy every chance I can get.”

I ignore what she said, which I know will drive her crazier than if I acknowledged it and continued the fight. “We’ll talk later,” I say to her as she leaves and she gives me the finger before flouncing out the door.

“Maybe I never want to talk to you again. Ever think about that, *?” she calls from the hallway.

Huh. That went terribly. I rub my hand over my jaw, hoping like hell not too many people heard that send-off. Not that we haven’t argued like this before around the halls of Fleur, but it’s been a while. I take my job seriously. I’m trying to look like I can keep this together. Like I’m worthy of the London position—or one similar—just like Lawrence is. The only reason that * got the offer was for being involved with Violet. It gave him the in to old man Fowler. The in that I would f*cking love to have.

Well. He isn’t with Violet any longer. I’m about to be. Secretly, but still. Soon we’ll be out in the open. Soon I can cozy up to Forrest Fowler. Get into that man’s back pocket so he’ll really see what an asset I am to the company. That’s what I want.

And that’s what I’ll damn well get.

Chapter Eleven

Violet

I tap my foot against the floor of the crowded elevator, my gaze locked on the numbers above the door. The countdown takes forever and I suck in a loud breath, drawing the attention of more than a few of my fellow Fleur employees in the elevator with me.

They’re all on their lunch break, ready to get out of the elevator and make their escape. So am I. But I’m not hungry. At least, not for food.

The elevator slows and then stops, the doors sliding open with a smooth whoosh. I push through the crowd and exit, noticing a few murmurings from the people within, probably wondering what I’m doing on the tenth floor when most are on their lunch hour.

I don’t care what they say. What they think. I already have an excuse prepared if anyone asks. It’s a lunch meeting with Ryder, the head of packaging. We’re both so busy that our jam-packed schedules only allowed us to meet at noon. It’s normal. I’ve had multiple business meetings over lunch. This is nothing new.

But it is new, what we’re really doing. I’ve never had a lunch … rendezvous. A nooner. An affair. Dalliance. Whatever sordid word you want to call it.

Coming to a halt in front of the tenth-floor reception desk—which is abandoned, thank goodness—I rest my hand on my chest, feel my crazily beating heart beneath my palm. Maybe I shouldn’t go through with this. I broke up with Zachary only a few days ago. He stopped me in front of my office first thing this morning, trying to get me to talk to him, go have coffee with him, something, anything for a bit of time alone with me.

I told him no. Had been so proud of my firm refusal of him, too. I’d seen Rose lingering in the background, offering me a thumbs-up when Zachary walked away. The surge of pride that had flowed through me felt good. Felt right. I was taking command of my life, my emotions, my needs, for once. Zachary didn’t fit into that anymore. Had he ever? It had always been about him, our relationship. It centered on his wants and needs. Never mine.

I’d been on such a high, I’d gone right into my office and started the online search for the perfect red tie. Something gloriously sophisticated and expensive and sexy and elegant. I clicked on my favorite store sites until I finally found the one I knew he would love. And I loved it, too.

When he called me and thanked me in that deep, sexy voice of his, I’d wanted to melt.

My cell dings that I have a text message and I pull it out of my purse to find a number I don’t recognize, along with a simple message.

I see you.

Glancing around, I see that no one else is nearby. The offices appear mostly empty. The entire floor has a hushed quality to it that I almost find unnerving.

Or maybe that’s just me, completely unnerved and worried about what I’m about to do.

My phone beeps again.

You’re late.

And then there’s another message.

We only have fifty minutes to indulge in our appetizer lunch. I suggest you head over to my office now.

The pleasure that blooms across my chest at the texts from Ryder makes me rush down the hall only to find him already standing there, leaning against the wall opposite his office, his arms folded across his chest, his biceps straining the fabric of his snowy white shirt. He must have taken off his jacket; he’s clad in only the shirt, black trousers, and a silvery gray tie. His hair is in the usual tousle, his eyes glittering as I come closer.

“You made it,” he says when I stop just in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late.” I swallow away the nerves as best I can, hating how jittery I sound. “It’s been crazy this morning.”