Chapter Sixteen

Violet

It’s early afternoon when Lucas drops me home. We kiss on the doorstep like we’re never going to see each other again when we’ve already made plans to spend tonight together.

“Don’t work too hard.” He cups my face as though he doesn’t want to stop touching me, and I’m down for that. Shame about real life having to intrude, but I have a four-hour shift at Sycamore Lodge this afternoon.

“I won’t. Have fun training.”

“I will.” He takes a reluctant step back.

He gets into his car and drives off, and I’m smiling like I’m completely besotted by him.

That’s because I am.

I sigh and let myself into the house. My entire body tingles, a lingering afterglow of my mind-blowing orgasms. Did I think Lucas was a sex god?

I was wrong. He’s the god of sex.

In my room, I drop my bag on my bed and strip off my dress. There’s a rosy glow all over my skin, and while that might just be my imagination, I don’t think so. I fall onto my bed, fish my phone out of my bag, and call Katie.

She’s left three messages since this morning, and I sent her a quick text earlier letting her know I was still alive and would fill her in with all the details later.

“Spill,” she says, as soon as she answers.

“I’ve had so much sex today, I can hardly stand.”

“Good. Now that you’ve got someone other than shit-face to compare with, you won’t settle for any crappy, second-rate bonking in the future.”

My feel-fab aura deflates a little, since I don’t want to bonk anyone else, first rate or otherwise.

Summer fling, Vi.

I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t want to keep dwelling on it, that’s all.

It’s more than a summer fling, and you know it.

I squash the thought before it takes over my mind.

“I’m going back to his place again tonight, after work.”

“Yes, good thinking. Get in as much practice as possible. As long as you remember this isn’t serious.”

Even though she’s only repeating what I assured her the other day, it’s still annoying that she feels the need to throw it in my face. I’m about to end the conversation when I remember something else.

“You’ll never guess. Geoff and Monica turned up at Overton’s last night.”

“Ugh. Did they see you?”

“He came over to talk to Lucas.”

“I bet that manky cow was green with envy. Lucas Carter is far better arm candy than Geoffrey Hawthorne-Douglas.”

That hadn’t occurred to me before, but I don’t think Katie’s right. Monica loves Geoff, and I don’t care anymore. As for Geoff, well I’m not so sure. Would he dump Monica if a better prospect came along?

I don’t even care about that, either. They made their bed, and all that.

“Anyway, I have to get ready for work. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Have fun tonight and do everything I would.”

“You bet.” And then some.

After I’ve changed into my work uniform, I call Mum.

“Hey, sweetie. Did you have a lovely time last night? Where did Lucas take you?” Although she knows I’m seeing Lucas, there’s no reason she needs to know I spent the night with him. I mean, obviously Mum and Dad know I slept with Geoff, but it’s not something we ever talked about, and I sure don’t want them speculating what I’m doing with Lucas.

Especially since the things I’m doing with him are so freaking amazing. With his reputation, I should’ve guessed he liked to talk dirty during sex, but I never imagined it would be such a turn on. Bloody hell, I’m getting hot just thinking about it. That’s wrong on so many levels when I’m talking to my mum.

I give myself a mental slap and answer her question, which leads to another, which leads to me accidentally telling her that Geoff and Monica were there, and that I confronted my former best friend in the ladies.

“Oh, good for you,” she says. “You needed to do that, Violet. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks. I’m a bit proud of myself, too.”

“You should be.” There’s a fierce note in her voice. “You’ve stayed in the shadows long enough. It’s time you spread your wings.”

I’m not sure what she means by that, but I don’t have time to discuss it or I’ll be late for work, and I still haven’t asked her how she is, which was the original reason why I rang.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, and I imagine her giving that dismissive wave that she does whenever anyone asks that question. Except this is me she’s talking to, and although she’s been good this last week, I wish she’d tell me exactly how she’s feeling. Sometimes I get the impression she and Dad deliberately keep me in the dark, as if I’m still that scared nine-year-old who needs protecting. “We’ll be back tomorrow evening. See you then.”

…

Lucas

After training, I meet up with Will at a vegetarian restaurant not far from the club. We’ve not seen each other since my birthday, and when he called, wanting to catch up, I suggested here, so I could grab something healthy to eat before meeting Violet later. He’s already there when I arrive, reading the menu with a gloomy expression.

“Hey.” I sit opposite him. Although my body aches, I feel fucking fantastic.

“I hope you’re not going vegan.” He drops the menu on the table. “All right, spill. What’s going on?”

I lean across the table so there’s no chance of being overheard. “I’m training again.”

He grins, and we high five. “Good for you, mate.” He keeps his voice low. “When’s it going public?”

“Soon.” Fuck, I wish I could tell him about the transfer.

“We’ll go somewhere tonight to celebrate. I’ll get smashed, and you can stick to orange juice.”

“Can’t. I’m seeing Violet.” It feels good saying that.

“Violet? The chick you took to the Toad?”

“She’s the only Violet I know.”

“Fuck me.” He leans back in his chair. “That’s a whole week. Must be a record.”

I shrug. “She’s different.”

“She’s got you by the balls, you mean.”

For some reason Will appears to find that amusing. I remember this morning, when Violet’s sweet, naked body was wrapped around mine, and how gorgeous she looks when she comes. My dick jerks to attention. If that’s having me by the balls, then I’m all for it.

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

Will’s smirk drops off his face. “You’re serious about her.”

I slouch in my chair and rake my hand through my hair. “What does that even mean?”

“Fucked if I know.” He broods for a few seconds, a frown slashing his forehead. “Harry’s the expert in relationships.”

We stare at each other before both snorting with laughter. A year ago, it wouldn’t have crossed either of our minds to link Harry and expert and relationships in the same sentence, but he’s right.

My brother knows what he’s doing when it comes to Alice.

Buggered if I’m going to ask him for relationship advice, though.

The following morning I’m in bed, with Violet sprawled on top of me tracing patterns with her finger over my shoulder. I’m still sated by our early morning fuck, and idly stoke her hip before cupping her sexy butt.

She wriggles, deliberately provocative, and smiles down at me. Her hair’s tangled and tumbles over her bare shoulders, and damn if I’m not getting hard again already.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” She folds one arm across my chest to brace her weight, while her other hand smooths back my hair.

“Ask me anything you like.” It’s kind of funny she asked permission, especially after the night we’ve just shared. But hey, this is Violet, and I need to get used to the unexpected with her.

“Is there a reason you don’t have any tattoos on your right arm?”

It’s not the first time I’ve been asked that, although it’s only a relatively recent question, since it’s become more obvious. I’ve always sidestepped the answer because the truth is it never started out as a conscious decision. Not until about three years ago, when I made the choice to not have my latest tat inked on my right bicep. Even now I’m not sure what made me do it, but since then it’s become almost a superstition.

“I guess I’m saving it for something special.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

She smiles, like she doesn’t believe a word. “Will you go full sleeve on your left?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She tilts her head and watches her finger trail over my shoulder onto my bicep. The sheet’s slid to her waist, revealing her beautiful curves, and I’m captivated by the enticing freckles sprinkled across her chest and shoulders.

“I love your water lilies.”

I give a faint smile, but don’t respond. It’s hardly a secret I got that tat done on my eighteenth birthday, a double water lily to represent Harry and my birth month. She continues to swirl her finger over my ink, and something tightens deep in my gut. Don’t go there, Violet.

She lets out a breathy sigh. “I’m so fascinated by the language of flowers. Well, I would be, with my name, wouldn’t I?”

My tense muscles relax, and I abandon her butt and wrap my arm across her back. “I’ve never dated a flower before.”

A delicate blush heats her cheeks, and I forget what we’re talking about. Why are we talking? I should be buried balls-deep in her sweet body. Before I can do anything about that, she brushes an oddly chaste kiss across my lips. “I always thought the tribute you did to your mum was so beautiful.”

And she went there. Like all my tats, the story behind each one is common knowledge, but most girls avoid all mention of that one. And why wouldn’t they? No one wants to discuss my mum’s death, least of all me.

But Violet’s still gazing at me with her gorgeous green eyes, and I have to say something. “Thanks.” My voice is gruff, and I hope she gets the message. I don’t want to talk about it.

Gently, her finger traces across the top section of my bicep. I don’t have to see what’s she’s doing to know she’s outlining the blood-red rose, the crimson tipped thorns, and the aloe backdrop.

Rose, for Mum’s middle name, aloe for grief, and I don’t think anyone needs an explanation for bloody thorns.

“It’s awful, living with the fear that your mum might…you know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and for a second a haunted look flashes over her face. “But for her to fall ill so suddenly and then… Well, I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

I’m suffocating, but instead of rolling Violet off me so I can breathe, I tighten my grip around her. Does she really expect me to answer? What the hell am I meant to say?

Yeah, it was fucking awful and even now the smell of a hospital makes me want to vomit.

I’m the gregarious brother, who’s never serious about anything and always has a ready quote for the press. But I’ve never been able to talk about my mum since the day she died. Not even to my own family.

I was only nineteen, and already United’s star player. The gutter press went crazy with their reporting, hassling me for some deep and meaningful insight into how this tragedy affected my life. When I didn’t bring the goods, they made up their own, all wrapped up in pseudo-empathy.

The only way I got through it was funneling everything into the game. When I was physically knackered, there was less time to think.

That was the theory, anyway. It didn’t work out so well in practice.

That’s why I got the tat. Screw the armchair psychoanalysts, even if they were too fucking close to the truth.

My phone rings, and I grab it from the side table without releasing Violet. It’s Bec, and any other time I’d let her go to voicemail because why would I want to speak to my agent while Violet’s in my bed? But right now, it’s a great excuse to get out of this excruciating conversation.

“Sorry, I need to take this.”

“Sure.” She rolls off me and pulls the sheet up to cover her chest.

Has Bec found out I’m dating her cousin’s daughter? Before signing the cleaning contract, she disclosed her personal connection, but it didn’t bother me. She wouldn’t let nepotism get in the way of business.

And I sure don’t mind who knows I’m seeing Violet.

“Hey.” I link my fingers through Violet’s as I answer the call. “What’s up?”

“Just a heads-up,” Bec says. “It’s obviously a slow week. You’re front page on the rags, but they’ve dragged up ancient history. Ignore it. They’ll have something meatier to dig their claws into once we announce the deal.”

“Okay.” I keep my voice neutral, even though Bec won’t be fooled. She’s known me too long and is one of the few people who witnessed what a mess I was after Mum died. It’s not the first time my private life’s been dissected under the spotlight for no better reason than they need to fill column inches.

We end the call. I’m guessing the article is linked to whoever took the photo of Violet and me when we left Overton’s. Which also means Violet’s face was hidden, otherwise Bec would have said something.

“Is everything okay?” Violet slides her other hand along my arm and it’s strangely comforting.

“Yeah, everything’s good.” I grin down at her. Putting on my mask. What the hell am I doing? Violet deserves more than my standard issue deflection when things get too personal. I sigh heavily. “It was my agent. Looks like that paparazzo sold a photo.”

Shit.