Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(80)

I hurry in and press the close door button frantically, releasing a relieved sigh when the doors shut quickly. My mind keeps replaying what I saw, looking for a mistake. I might have misunderstood, right? Was that really Pilar? And did Father really have his hands on her thighs?

Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and tilt my head back, forcing myself to face the truth. Yes. His hands were most definitely on her thighs. She was smiling at him in that obvious, sultry way of hers. She’s gone from Ryder to Zachary to my father … and who knows how many more.

I think I’m going to be sick.

The elevator takes forever, stopping at practically every floor so people—every one of them a Fleur employee—can get on and off. I nod and murmur hello to all of them, irritated when I have to make small talk, and my responses are brusque. I’m normally not so rude, but I don’t have time for this. I need … I don’t know what I need.

Yes, you do. You need Ryder.

When the elevator stops on his floor I shove my way through the small crowd and make my hurried exit, heading toward his office without saying anything to the receptionist who calls out a greeting as I pass by her desk. His door is partially open, just like my father’s, and I pause, fear making my heart race.

What if … what if he’s not alone either?

But when I peek inside, I see that he’s sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and talking on the phone. He looks gorgeous. Wearing a perfectly tailored dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, a pale yellow tie knotted around his neck. He is the epitome of the sexy businessman.

And just beneath, he’s also the epitome of the pierced and tattooed bad boy. I love that he’s both. I still know so little about him, but I’m dying to find out more.

Cautiously I knock on the door and walk into his office. His startled gaze meets mine and he leans forward in his chair, ending the call with a made-up excuse and hanging up within seconds of my entering the room.

“Are you okay?” He gets out of his chair and rounds his desk, coming for me.

Zachary would never have done that. He would have held up his finger like I’m the one interrupting something important, versus me being the important one.

I wave a hand toward the door, pleased that he sees I’m upset. “Shut it. Please.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you when you shut the door. It’s, um, a private matter.” I offer him a shaky smile, which makes him frown, and he goes to his door, shutting and locking it before he returns to me.

“Tell me,” he demands as he pulls me into his arms. I go willingly, circling his waist, pressing my face against his chest, his scent, his warmth, invading me. Comforting me. I hold on to him for long, quiet moments, savoring the feeling of being in his strong arms until finally he withdraws from me, his hands grasping my shoulders, his expression serious as he studies me. “You’re worrying me, Violet.”

Is it wrong that I love that he’s worried? “I went to my father’s office. He asked that I stop by so we can discuss a few things.” I take a deep breath, not exactly sure how I should say this. “When I peeked through his open door I saw him inside with … Pilar.”

Ryder frowns and pulls away from me slightly. “So?”

“She was sitting on his desk directly in front of him and he had his hands on her … on her thighs. I think they’d just kissed or something.”

“What?” Ryder sounds as incredulous as I feel. “Did you see them actually kiss?”

I shake my head. “They appeared to be in a very … intimate position, though.”

He releases his hold on me and starts to pace, his expression determined, his body rigid. I don’t know what he’s thinking and it scares me. At least with Zachary, I knew where I stood. After being with him for two years, I sometimes felt like I could read his mind.

But with Ryder, it’s still too new and I know hardly anything about him. He’s so mysterious, revealing bits and pieces of himself that don’t always make sense. He’s completely closed off, and I wish he were more open to me.

“We need to be careful,” he finally says, his voice low, his expression distant. I can tell his mind is still churning, with what I’m not sure.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want people to suspect that we’re—together.” He almost seems to stumble on the last word and that irritates me. After everything we shared, everything that happened last night, there is no doubt in my mind that we’re together.

“Well, you blew that by getting into a fight with Zachary at that stupid party,” I remind him. I’m not taking responsibility for exposing what I wanted to be a secret affair from the beginning. That’s all on him.

“I know. Fuck.” He thrusts his hands into his hair, messing it up completely. I want to go to him and push his thick hair back into place, but I remain where I stand. Unsure of where I stand with him, really.

I hate that.

He comes to me, takes my hands and holds them loosely in his. “I’m going to ask you to do something that you won’t like.”

Frowning, I stare up at him. “What?”

“I want you to go back to Zachary.” He grimaces the second he says his name.

“Are you serious? No.” I jerk my hands from his and wrap my arms around myself to ward off the sudden cold that washes over me. “Why would I do that? Especially after …”