Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(57)

“Like Ryder for you?” I throw at her.

Nodding, she presses her lips together. “Yes,” she admits. “Like Ryder. But sometimes these people you meet, they’re not meant to be in your life on a permanent basis. They come in at the right time, send you spinning, lift you up, and then they leave. A pleasant diversion to help you realize what you really should be doing with your life.”

“So now you’re saying Caden is nothing but a pleasant diversion while I figure out what I want next,” I say dully.

Violet nods. “Exactly. Yes, Ryder has turned into a permanent part of my life, but I can’t see Caden being there for you when you really need him.”

“Why not? And how can you say that? You don’t even know him,” I accuse, my voice small, my thoughts all over the place. Would Caden be there for me during my time of need, like … now? If I asked for his undying support, would he give it to me? I think he would.

But I’m not sure.

“I know there are—things to him that he’s not telling you. I’ve done a little Google research …” She lets her voice trail off, but I hear all the doubt and worry in her tone.

“Of course you have,” I say, pushing away her hands so I can step around her.

“And Ryder has this … sense about him. That he’s not being honest with us,” Violet continues. “Says he knows the signs of a con man since he was once one himself, and Caden reminds him of … himself, when he was younger.”

I stare at the tiled wall, blinking hard. I thought Ryder was on my side. But no, he’s filling Violet’s head with stories of Caden being a lying con man. Just freaking great. “Don’t you think you two are being a little harsh?”

“No. I call it being protective of my baby sister.” Violet reaches out to rest her hand on my shoulder, but I shrug out of her touch. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I turn on her. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads. She looks worried and I feel bad, but her worry isn’t going to stop me from continuing to see Caden. “And Hugh is like … the perfect guy for you. I wish you could see that. He’s smart and handsome and he works for Fleur.”

“What, you want me to be just like you and Ryder? Give me a break. I don’t know if I want to continue working at Fleur.” I throw my hands up in the air, so frustrated I could spit.

“You don’t mean that,” Violet whispers. “You gave your notice after you argued with Father. You know he’d take you back.”

“I do mean it. Daddy is furious with me and the feeling is mutual. Pilar is getting everything she could ever want and you’re the wunderkind of the family. No one gives a shit if I’m there or not. I’ve disappeared for the last couple of weeks and no one’s missed me. Fleur goes on whether I’m there or not,” I point out. “Can the same be said if you weren’t there? Or Daddy? Or even … Pilar?” God, it kills me to say her name, but I’m feeling pretty low right now.

“I’ve missed you,” Violet says.

“That’s not good enough.” I shake my head, refusing to feel guilty over disappointing Violet. “When I go back to New York, I’m not returning to Fleur.”

“Why? I don’t understand how you can even consider that as an option.” Violet looks incredulous and I don’t know what to tell her. How to explain.

Because I don’t have the proper explanation myself.

“See, that’s just it. You wouldn’t understand.” I’m tired. Tired of explaining myself, defending my actions, defending Caden. “There’s nothing more to say, Violet.”

She studies me, her arms curled in front of her, her expression unreadable. I’ve disappointed her. She’s probably mad. But for once, I don’t really care. “You’re making a mistake,” she finally says.

“I’m sure I am,” I say wearily. “I think I’m allowed to make one every once in a while.”

Without another word Violet turns and leaves, the door slamming hard behind her, and I slump against the edge of the countertop, throwing back my head with a sigh so I can stare at the ceiling.

That went over well.

I use the facilities and wash my hands, splashing water on my face yet again. Another woman walks in and throws down her makeup bag, opening it to pull out a Fleur lip gloss. She slicks her lips a deep red shade as she stares at her reflection before she puts the cap back on and throws the tube into the bag. She notices me watching her and gives me a puzzled smile.

“Beautiful color,” I tell her. I recognize it, of course. One of the shades from our Winterberry collection, the name of the color is Blackberry Ice.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiles, revealing she has a bit of gloss stuck to her front teeth. I rub at mine and she does the same with her index finger, giving me a rueful look. “Right. Appreciate that. I bet my friends wouldn’t have told me and had a good laugh over it later.”

“Wow, really?” Sounds like they aren’t very good friends.

“It’s dog-eat-dog out there, haven’t you noticed? I’ve been flirting with the same bloke for the past half hour and then another pretty girl turns his head and the ass leaves me standing there alone.” She zips her makeup bag up almost violently. “What’s a girl got to do to keep a man’s interest in this city? Show her tits?”