Page 50 of Playing with Trouble

For a heartbeat, the air between us grew thick with awareness.Then she rolled her eyes to defuse the tension, but her cheeks were flushed for reasons that had nothing to do with the bath.

“Feel better?”I asked.

She nodded.“Less like I could strangle someone,” she said dryly.

I chuckled.“Progress.”It was getting late and I knew she had to be exhausted after everything that had happened.“You should try and get some sleep.”

That earned me a suspicious look.“You’re not going to hover outside my door all night, are you?”

“Probably not all night,” I said, smiling.“But I’ll be nearby.”

When she shifted on her feet and hesitated, biting the inside of her lip, I added quietly, “You can sleep in my room if you’d rather not be alone.”

Her brows lifted, and I saw a teasing glimmer in her eyes.“Why, is it safer in there?”

“The whole condo is secure,” I assured her.“But it mightfeelsafer, to have someone close.You’ve been through a lot, Violet.You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.”

Her chin tipped up a fraction.“I wasn’t hurt.”

“No,” I agreed, stepping closer.“But someone violated your space.Ruined things that mattered to you.That kind of thing doesn’t show up as physical bruises, but it hits just as hard.It’s not a weakness to want someone nearby until you’re in a better headspace.”

She studied me silently, weighing every word.“Okay,” she finally said, a small, tired smile on her lips.“I would feel safer with you.”

That’s all I needed to hear to take her hand and lead her to my room.She climbed into my bed, settling beneath the covers, while I changed into a pair of sleep shorts and joined her.She didn’t hesitate to move closer, and I wrapped an arm around her, wanting her to feel safe and protected.

I held her like that, until her breathing evened out and the last of the day’s tension eased from her body.Even after she fell asleep, I stayed awake a little longer, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing and I made myself a promise.Whoever had done this to her, whoever had made her feel unsafe in her own home, would regret it.

I’d make damn sure of it.

* * *

HavingViolet in my space reminded me just how much I didn’t want this condo to be my permanent home.Sure, it was nice.I’d made it comfortable, even let my sisters run wild with paint swatches and throw pillows and decor.It was functional, modern, and fit my life as a single guy who worked long hours and didn’t need much.But it wasn’thome.

Home was supposed to be laughter echoing down a hallway.A dog snoring at your feet.A woman you loved cooking dinner with you, and then later, curled up beside you, warm and soft and protected.And god help me, every time Violet brushed past me barefoot in my kitchen, every time she left her coffee mug in the sink or hummed under her breath while tying up her hair, it was hard not to imagine her fitting right into that picture.

She made herself at home quickly, though I know she’d never admit how comfortable she was at my place.I’d catch her cooking breakfast in the mornings, moving around like she’d lived there for years—finding the frying pan, the salt, the cooking spray without asking where anything was.Then she’d suddenly pause, wrinkle her nose like she’d just realized what she was doing, and glare at the spatula in her hand as if it had betrayed her.

I had to turn away more than once to hide my grin.

The police weren’t able to find any fingerprints or any other useful evidence from Violet’s home.No fingerprints and no leads from the neighbors.Whoever had done this had been stealthy and smart.

The clothes I’d asked my sister to order started arriving over the next few days.When packages initially started showing up, more than one at a time, Violet gave me a dubious look as I brought in four separate boxes and set them on the counter.

“Are you one of those people who buys everything online and never goes to the grocery store?”she asked, completely serious.

“No.Actually, they’re for you,” I said, fighting to keep my tone neutral.

She frowned in confusion as she grabbed scissors and started cutting open the boxes.Inside were new clothes, replacements for the ones ruined in the break-in, and art prints that matched the ones she’d loved.

Her eyes brightened with shock as she looked at me.“What is all this?”

“I wanted to make sure we could replace as much of your stuff as possible,” I said with a shrug.“My sister’s a pro at finding replacements online for clothes.There’s a couple sites that she uses, where people resell stuff online.Keep opening the boxes.There’s more.”

She just shook her head, and when she pulled the first framed print free and saw what it was, she froze, her breath catching.“You…found these, too?”

I grinned at her.“Of course I did.”My voice came out rougher than I’d intended.“You lost a lot.This doesn’t fix it, but it’s a start.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed.“How the hell am I supposed to repay you for all this?”