Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(85)

“The f*cking grandma? You mean the woman who founded this company?” That she speaks of Dahlia Fowler with such disrespect when she’s revered by everyone at Fleur surprises me.

And that she speaks of having conversations about Violet with Forrest Fowler so casually surprises me as well.

“Whatever. I’m sick of all the nepotism that goes on around here. I deserve a fair shake.” She slams her fist on her desk. “I’m damn good at what I do and it’s about time someone recognized it.”

“Christ, Pilar.” I say her name softly, startling her. She’s ruthless. One has to be to get as far as she has in this business. She’s determined and a hard worker and she’s never backed down from a challenge. Hell, I think she relishes them.

She’s also a troublemaker and she’d fully admit that. She has no problem having a tantrum, either, kicking and screaming and making unreasonable demands until she gets what she wants.

I wonder if that’s worked for her on someone else lately. Like Zachary. Or …

Forrest Fowler.

“What? You act like this is a big surprise. You know I should run Fleur someday, and the only way it won’t happen is if Forrest hands over the reins to Violet. So I’ll get rid of her and the obstacle is out of my way. It’ll be easy, especially with your help. When she realizes that we’ve been working together against her all along …”

Fear races through me. I’m trying to trick a tricky bitch. Everything is riding on how I handle it.

And how Violet handles it, too.

Chapter Twenty-five

Violet

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

I offer Zachary a tight smile but say nothing. I’m afraid if I talk too much I’ll blow my cover. Or worse, accuse him of being an * cheater, then run out of the restaurant.

Ryder would be disappointed in me. And that is the last thing I want.

Well. Besides Zachary.

“How’s your salad?” he asks. He’s on his best behavior, taking me to my favorite Italian restaurant, buying the most expensive wine on the menu in honor of our celebration—his words. The celebration of my giving our relationship another go after all—he’s positively thrilled.

I feel one part glad that I’m getting some sort of revenge against Zachary, and two parts completely awful for doing this to him.

“It’s delicious.” I stare down at my Caprese salad, admiring the perfectly sliced tomatoes and mozzarella, the vibrant leaves of basil and the drizzle of balsamic vinegar. This is my favorite salad, my go-to when nothing else sounds good on the menu.

But my appetite is gone. Being with Zachary feels wrong.

Dreadfully, horribly wrong.

“Not hungry?” He sends me a soulful look. One that I used to fall for. “You usually devour that salad like a starving woman.”

His remark sets my teeth on edge. Is he somehow implying that I eat too much? I’m making a big deal out of nothing, I’m sure. But I can’t help but feel defensive every time I’m with him. “I had a late lunch,” I lie.

I had lunch with Rose and listened to her talk about an ex-boyfriend who’s giving her trouble, how Father seems to be ignoring her, and that the brunch with Lily drove her nuts. I’m the one who normally gets them to play fair and talk nice when we’re all together. It’s the middle child in me. So without me there, Lily got snarky, Rose got defensive, and they ended up arguing.

Again, I feel responsible, since I left them to meet with Ryder. He called me a distraction earlier in his office. I have to confess he’s a distraction for me as well. A sexy, delicious one, but a distraction nonetheless.

And he makes me do things … things I could never imagine contemplating, let alone actually doing, before. I’ve been an achy mess all day just thinking about him.

I’m still an achy mess. I miss him. I want him. And I’m stuck with Zachary.

“A meeting?”

“No, lunch with my sister.” Let’s see if he asks which one. If he asks how she’s doing. If he asks anything personal. Most of the time he’s so full of himself, he doesn’t give others much consideration.

So again, why was I with him for so long?

“How was that?” he asks sarcastically. “Lily complaining how Daddy cut her off yet again?”

“No, it was with Rose.” Hmm. He’s making conversation like his old self. Making snide remarks, but I guess I can let them slide. Talk about being on his best behavior. “We haven’t talked much lately, so we were catching up.”

“Uh-huh.” I’ve lost his interest. I can tell by the way he watches the pretty waitress pass us by, his gaze glued to her swishing backside. Guess he hasn’t changed much after all.

“Are you excited about leaving?” I ask brightly. When he looks at me strangely I add, “For London.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” He busies himself by drinking from his water glass, wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, then pulling another piece of bread from the basket that rests in the center of the table. “You sure you want to talk about this?”

He’s nervous? How very strange—and it’s somewhat refreshing. I’m the one who’s usually walking on eggshells. “If we’re going to work on our relationship, we need to be completely upfront.” I wince the moment the words leave me. I’m a liar. And I never lie. I hate what Ryder’s making me do.