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My pussy feels slightly raw. I must have touched myself in the middle of the night. One sniff of my fingertips tells me I’m correct on that assumption as well. At least I can always count on myself, even when I’m fucked up beyond memory.
A quick peek in the hamper and closet tells me I’m not crazy. I did come home and undress as usual. With a sigh of relief, I take the longest shower known to man. My calves are sore and the rest of my body is achy due to my hangover from hell.
My phone buzzes from my nightstand where I managed to remember to plug it in last night. Now freshly showered and dried off, with a towel wrapped around my wet hair, I walk naked over to the bedside. A chill ripples through me. The feeling of being watched by Vaughn has never really gone away. I blink it away to read my message.
Apparently I’ve missed several.
Sean: I had fun last night. Sorry if things got out of hand.
Sean: Let me make it up to you. Dinner tonight?
I’m already shaking my head in disagreement. I refuse to spend another moment alone with Sean. I’m already horrified over my behavior last night.
Sean: I wasn’t exactly a gentleman so don’t go blaming this on yourself.
I chew on my lip and head back into the bathroom. Pulling my towel off and dropping it to the floor, I look at my reflection. Despite my stupidity last night, I still look like the woman I’d eventually shaped myself to be. I’m no longer her. The woman wrapped up in Vaughn’s twisted little world. I’m healthy and educated and successful.
Breathe, Violet.
He no longer has his hand around your throat.
I spend the rest of the morning taking my time getting ready. Once my makeup is on and my hair is dried into sexy tresses, I spritz on my perfume and leave the bathroom on a hunt for some clothes.
I get that eerie feeling once again of being watched as I enter my bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked. I squint to make sure nobody is peeking through.
“Stop freaking out,” I chide myself. “He’s not here.” I still shiver as I root around in my closet for clothes. I’ll never be able to fully convince myself that Vaughn can’t find me. That I’m safe. I’ve taken precautions, but he’s a resourceful man.
A click jolts me from my thoughts, and I scamper out of my closet. The bedroom door is now closed. Alarm slices through me. Yanking my robe from the bathroom hook, I quickly wrap it around me and tiptoe over to the door.
Silence.
I try not to breathe.
Another soft click from the living room.
“Shit,” I hiss as I engage the lock on my bedroom door. The gun I keep loaded under my mattress is still there when I look. I pull the heavy cold object into my grip and summon up the courage to escape my bedroom prison. My phone buzzes from the bathroom, but I ignore it. Quietly, I manage to check every part of my apartment from top to bottom.
Nothing.
My nerves are eating me alive this morning.
I need protein and sugar and coffee.
I need to snap out of it.
I’m shaking my head at my stupidity when my gaze skims across my apartment to the front door. All three locks are disengaged.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Confusion causes my blood to creep through my veins like molasses. I never forget to lock my doors. Never. Ever. Fucking never. With three leaps to the door, I snap all of the locks into place before choking out a relieved sob.
Someone was in my home.
Vaughn.
Tears threaten to spill, but I furiously blink them away. He won’t own me this time. The heavy gun in my palm wobbles as I imagine myself pointing it at him. A calm washes over me and my hand stills.
If it comes between me and Vaughn, I’ll choose me.
Every time.
I compose myself and make my way back to the bathroom. I have another missed text on my phone. But this time it’s from an unknown number.
Vaughn.
Unknown: Meet me for breakfast. The hotel on 7th and Madison has a brilliant selection of muffins.
Muffins?
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: It’s Gray, little quitter. Let me treat you. We both know I owe you. I have six years to make up for.
Relief floods through me once I realize Vaughn doesn’t have my phone number. I went to great lengths to keep this number hidden from anyone I don’t want to have it.
Me: I’m more of an omelet and French toast kind of gal. But, sadly for you, I’d rather eat alone.
Despite my reply, I find myself rooting around in my closet for something to wear. I dress professionally for this man every single day, yet he has never once looked me in the eye. Not once has he spoken to me. Not one time has he appreciatively glanced over my outfit.
Except yesterday.
Yesterday he seemed to have realized what was in his face all along.
And now he’s, what? Curious. One might even conclude that he feels bad. It makes me want to rub it in his face. Make him understand that I’m not something who can be looked over or forgotten. I am someone. Someone special and beautiful and worth knowing.
Unknown: Dear Violet, you’ll never be alone as far as I’m concerned. Twenty minutes. I’ll be waiting.
His words should alarm me, but right now, I’m attempting to suppress the good kind of shiver that is rocketing through me. Excitement courses through me. I want to dangle in front of him what he can’t have. What he was too blind to see all along. Since Vaughn, I’ve enjoyed any moment when I can make a man feel powerless in my presence. Because it wasn’t too long ago that the roles were grossly reversed.
With a skip in my step, I start for a red dress but pause with my hand in the air. Red reminds me of Vaughn. I skim over to a white sweater dress I bought for a date I never ended up going on. Because I’m feeling slightly bitchy, I slide the soft material down over my body sans bra. The nude lace thong is all that stands between my flesh and the cashmere. I find some thigh high boots that hit just below the bottom hem of the short dress. The look is sexy, but I’m also trying to be a little classy so I find a belt to go over the dress and a grey infinity scarf to halfway attempt to hide my bare breasts beneath the fabric. As soon as I step in front of the mirror, I know he won’t be able to help noticing me now.
I’ll be on the radar of any man with a working dick.
I look hot and I know it.
Smirking, I grab my purse and a coat before leaving to meet my soon-to-be ex-boss. My gun fits in my purse and that’s right where it will stay until I make sure Vaughn is still just a figment of my imagination.
T-minus thirteen days until I move on to my newest adventure. But until then, I’m going to make Grayson Maxwell regret letting me slip through his fingertips.
CHAPTER SIX
GRAYSON
I SIT at my usual table wearing my usual scowl. Twenty minutes comes and goes. Then thirty. But, thank fuck, thirty-eight minutes after my text, she shows up at the hotel restaurant looking like she owns the damn place.
Her hair is what I notice first outside the window as she exits the cab. The wind sweeps it up in a lover’s grip and the sun catches the gold in her mane. She fucking shines. Brilliant and beautiful. And mine.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip and feel a smile ghosting up on one side. This woman revives dead parts of me. She makes me feel alive. Like smiles and excitement and the thrill of a chase. Her scent lingers on my lips, despite my brushing my teeth this morning, and I can’t help the groan that escapes me as I watch her strut toward the building. My cock is rock hard as I imagine peeling off her leather coat and peeking at what she’s hiding underneath. I’m already standing by the time she enters the restaurant. Her eyes light up when she sees me. I jerk my head to signal her in my direction.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she says, her words breathless.
I inhale her floral scent. Just like I promised myself I would, I got a good whiff of her as she exited her bathroom earlier. Even from my shitty position on her a
wful carpet, I could smell her. Her perfumed scent killed the disgust of the floor and instead replaced it with…her. I hadn’t wanted to leave her but my stomach—after not having eaten dinner in my quest for knowledge of her—had started to grumble. Loudly. I didn’t want her to find me sprawled out under her bed with a ten-inch boner. Plus, I needed to shower and change clothes.
I stand to greet her as she approaches. “You look radiant,” I tell her, my voice low and husky. Radiant doesn’t even begin to describe how gorgeous she is.
Her brown eyes narrow at my choice of words as she sheds her coat. The moment she slips it from her shoulders, my cock hardens. Her nipples are erect underneath her sweater. I can see the faint pink outline of them beneath the soft cashmere.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hiss as I yank her chair back. “Where’s your damn bra?”
She chuckles and it has a musical quality. “I don’t like wearing one with this dress. You can see it.”
