Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(95)

Fuck this texting thing. I call her.

“What exactly did he say?” I growl into the phone the minute she answers.

“He spoke in vague terms. Said he kept it quiet because he wanted to ensure it was turning into something serious before he mentioned it to me and my sisters.” Her voice lowers. “I don’t want it to be her, but I’m sure it is. She’ll hurt him, Ryder. I know she will.”

Violet’s right. If things don’t go her way, Pilar will have no qualms about wreaking as much damage as possible. “Could he be with someone else?” I suggest, wishing it were so. That would simplify everything.

But the way I feel about Violet, what’s happening between us … is not so simple. I don’t want to hurt her. I care for her. Want to protect her. Lies always hurt, and I’m keeping a big one. She’ll hate me when she finds out I was dishonest.

That’s the last thing I want, though I know it’s best.

I’m starting to think f*ck what’s best and chase after what I really want.

“It’s not someone else. Who else can it be? I saw them together, Ryder. They weren’t acting like two business associates having a chat. They weren’t behaving like two old friends hanging out, either. The way he touched her, the way she looked at him, they were like … lovers,” Violet argues. “He doesn’t want to reveal who he’s seeing not just because of me and my sisters, but because he works with the woman.”

“Well, you really shouldn’t f*ck where you work,” I say, a reminder for us as well as anyone else.

She remains quiet, pulling one of my tactics. Damn, I really like this girl. The way she thinks, the things she says, the things she doesn’t say. How responsive she is to my touch. The connection we have is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I’m not only attracted to her body; I appreciate her mind. I value her opinion. She’s thoughtful and beautiful. So beautiful. We could go far, Violet and me.

But I’m lying to her. Tricking her. Our entire so-called relationship is based on a lie. She’s too good for me. She deserves a man who’ll treat her like a princess. Not a man who pushes his girl too far and lies.

Violet may like it when I push her too far, but it’s a cheap thrill. One that won’t last. She needs a man like Lawrence, minus his * tendencies. A man who works hard, is honest, comes from a good family, and can provide for her what I never, ever can.

I’m a mess. And most of the time, I revel in my mess. Not now, though. I want to change for Violet. I want to be a better man, but is it possible? I am who I am and sometimes, when I’m particularly low, I feel like no one can fix me.

No one.

Not even her.

“Very true,” she finally murmurs. “Such wise words, Ryder. I suppose you’re referring to us?”

Now it’s my turn to remain silent.

“If you want to end it, just say so.” Her voice is tight. She sounds furious. “I’m tired of the back and forth, Ryder. What we’re doing, it always feels like a game, and I’m the loser every single time. I try to be real with you. I try to give you everything you want and you’re still not happy.”

Her words claw at my useless heart, tearing it to shreds. She’s one hundred percent right and I can’t disagree. “I’m a user, Violet. You know this.” Why am I saying this? It’s as though I purposely want to sabotage what we have.

But really, all we have is smoke and mirrors. None of this is real.

“So you’re just using me.”

“Isn’t that what we established from the get-go?”

She’s quiet again. I hear her breathing. I swear I can hear the slow, steady beat of her heart. The fine little crack I just struck through it with my callous words. “I really hate you sometimes, Ryder,” she whispers just before she ends the call.

I dump the phone on my desk and run my hands through my hair, sliding them down until they cover my face.

Sometimes, I really hate myself, too.

I feel like I’ve been summoned to the great and powerful Oz’s lair. Or the gallows where I’ll get my head chopped off, take your pick.

The voicemail was waiting for me when I returned to my office after lunch. A solo lunch I spent at an extremely crowded hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop. I ate a roast beef with Swiss on sourdough at a table so tiny my knees kept bumping into it. I stared out the window, sipping on my extra-large Dr. Pepper, and watched the people pass by, filled with regret. And I never have regret. Life throws shit at me and I just move on. When opportunity knocks on my door, I take it. Run with it.

I look at my time with Violet as an opportunity to get ahead in this company, so why the hell can’t I run with it?

Because you feel guilty.

I’m taking. Taking and taking from Violet and enjoying every f*cking minute of it, too. Slowly but surely, I’ve been giving, too. I want to take care of her, not ruin her. I want to spend my days and nights with her, not use her, toss her aside, and move on to my next opportunity.

I think the very opportunity I want is a relationship with Violet. But I’ve already f*cked that up.

The voicemail waiting for me had been from Forrest Fowler’s assistant, Joy, asking me to meet with him at three o’clock on the dot. I returned the call, confirming I would be there, then sat in my office until two forty-five, my brain on speed mode as I thought of the many things Forrest Fowler might want to discuss with me.