Page 4 of Based on You

When Elena went still after being so loud, I knew better than to brush her off. Growing up together had taught me how to read that shift.

So we went to our father. He'd retired from his newspaper conglomerate the year before, quietly hoping I'd step in to replace him as CEO. Elena's pitch was a sharp turn off his master plan. He heard us out without one interruption, then said every person has to carve their own path. He wrote us a shockingly generous seed check and asked for nothing in return except a promise that we'd build something worth doing.

The startup struggled early—no surprise there—but within two years we found our footing. And ten years later, the company grew into the largest publishing house in the country.

That is, until an anniversary trip took my sister from me and bent the whole shape of my life.

My thoughts were pulled back when the elevator doors chimed and parted on the top floor. The space was deserted—the way I liked it. As I rounded the last corner toward my suite, Violet was already on her feet, a bright smile lighting her face.

Violet had a razor-sharp wit. She could take someone apart in a whisper and slap on a pleasant smile the second they turned around.

I'd found that hidden talent one afternoon when a pushy HR rep came up to question her competence. I'd ordered Violet's name struck from the review list, but the memo had stalled, and she got ambushed. The rep grilled her without mercy, leaning hard on her academic record.

But she took the whole interrogation with her head bowed and her hands folded in her lap, barely moving. The second the rep stepped off the floor, Violet rolled her eyes to the ceiling and muttered something lethal under her breath.

I didn't catch every word, but I caught the heart of it—and it was funnier than I expected.

When the rep formally petitioned for her termination later that week, I rejected the request on the spot, without entertaining a word of discussion.

Before the accident, she'd been one of Elena's favorite employees. Whenever my sister swept through the executive floor, her face would light up the instant she spotted Violet. Elena loved to compliment her outfits, her curls, the care she put into her daily look, and Violet returned that warmth.

There was a quiet comfort in keeping someone close who'd known Elena, someone who carried a piece of her without feeling obligated to perform some tragic pantomime of grief. She'd never performed. She'd come to the funeral, offered her condolences, and when I finally came back to the office, she treated me the way I needed.

That plain professionalism was a bigger mercy than I could put into words.

"Welcome back, sir." She beamed as I approached.

"What do you have for me today, Violet?" I bypassed her desk and headed straight into my office, the click of her heels following right behind me.

"You should've given me a heads-up on your wardrobe. I liked how we matched yesterday."

I turned to find her smile already in place as I sank into my leather chair.

"Tell me." I arched a brow. "Do you expect me to send over a full inventory of my closet every morning?"

"That would cross a few professional boundaries, sir. No matter how tempting it sounds."

I nodded, going mock-serious. "HR still has it out for you, you know."

"They're just jealous." She dismissed it with a wave. "They all know I'm your favorite. One of Beckett's girls, they call me."

I raised my brow higher. "One of? I was under the impression there was only you."

She slapped a hand over her mouth. "Mr. Beckett!"

I chuckled. "Enough joking. Tell me what I'm doing today."

Without a glance at a notepad, she ran down my itinerary, ticking off each item without a hitch. A conference call with the London division at ten, bumped back from nine. A full review of the Beatrice Holm launch materials before I locked the dinner seating. A two o'clock strategy session with the ideas team, Devika's elite crew, the ones tasked with reading the market's future currents.

Her rundown done, Violet pivoted on her heel and marched back to her station. I scanned the printed schedule she'd left on my desk, then dug into the dense Beatrice Holm file.

The hours slid by until a sharp rap at the door broke my focus. I looked up and found Violet leaning against the doorframe with one hand on the brass knob.

"Not to disturb your royal majesty, but your two o'clock is in five minutes. The team's already waiting."

I pushed back from my desk. "Are you joining me?"

"I'd rather not. The ideas team despises me."