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“I am,” I say, not offering more.
Gia takes a sip of the wine. “Will you be celebrating with your family?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Oh.” She clears her throat. “If you don’t have plans, we should organize something. We usually make up baskets for the homeless and deliver them to the shelters. It’s a very rewarding experience. It’s our tradition instead of exchanging Easter eggs.”
“A very kind one,” I muse, my attention fixed on Violet.
Violet stands like a cardboard cutout, slicing me up with her fiery lavender gaze.
Gia drones on about the charity she likes to support as a family, but it’s Violet I look at. There’s no arguing the fact that her mother is beautiful. With her burgundy hair and classic features, she’s Grace Kelly with dark hair reincarnated. Gia is a dazzling light, a star on top of a Christmas tree, but Violet is a whole planet on fire. Gia’s beauty is superficial. Her light has long since been extinguished. What’s left is the residual stardust of glitter eyeshadow and a shiny dress. My girl, her fire can’t burn out. Violet is a fucking sun. The force that drives her is more than simple survival. It’s a lust for life. Life itself is feeding off her flames. I’m the moth that will burn its wings, but I can’t resist.
“Anyway,” Gia says, making me tune back into the moment when she touches my shoulder. “Shall we take our places at the table?” Glancing at Violet, she continues, “We can talk more comfortably when we’re seated.”
Gia leads the way to a big dining room adjoining the lounge. A mural that depicts Roman gods dining on grapes and wine covers the back wall. French doors similar to the ones in the lounge exit onto the veranda that extends along the side of the house.
The dinner is a formal affair. Gus and I talk business while Gia picks at her shrimp cocktail and Elliot glares. Only Violet seems to have a good appetite. She devours every morsel of the Lobster Thermidor that follows the starters.
When the housekeeper serves the flan, Elliot addresses me. “You haven’t said where you worked before.”
I take my time to finish my wine. “I haven’t.”
“Which university did you attend?” he asks, pasting a smile on his face.
Holding his gaze squarely, I say, “I didn’t.”
Gia clears her throat. “More flan, anyone?”
Elliot fakes surprise. “No tertiary education?”
My smile is cold. “I’m a self-educated man.”
“You have big ambitions for a self-taught man,” he says.
“There’s nothing wrong with either.”
“Of course not.” He turns his gaze to Violet. “Look at my stepsister. She finished a degree in art, and much good it’s doing her. Unless you see the art in cleaning.”
Violet clenches her fingers around her glass.
“Leon has traveled through Africa,” Gus says. “There’s no better school for learning than traveling.” He taps his temple. “It broadens perspectives and teaches lessons you won’t find in books. I myself backpacked through Eastern Europe before I settled down.” Bringing his glass to his lips, he says to his son, “I highly recommend it. You may learn a thing or two.”
Elliot stiffens. “I don’t need to volunteer for the Red Cross in Malawi or lie on a beach in Mozambique to gain experience on how to run a business.”
What my CV doesn’t say is that the traveling I did mostly entailed laying low in African rural areas after money heists.
“It seems you have high ambitions too, Elliot,” Violet says before I can formulate a suitable reply. “You’re just going about yours differently.”
Gia shifts in her seat. “More flan, anyone? I really love this recipe. It’s from Costa Rica. Don’t you think the coconut adds a nice touch?”
“Having ambition gives your life meaning,” Elliot says. “You should try it sometime, Violet.”
Violet smiles sweetly. “This may come as a shock to you, but I have plenty of ambition.”
“Like being promoted to the admin department?” he asks with a cock of his brow.
The dangerous stints I performed for most of my life perfected my control. It prevents me from rounding the table and planting my fist in his face. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m letting him get away with speaking to her like that.
“You owe Violet an apology, Elliot,” I say. “You’re out of line.”
Violet gives a start as if she didn’t expect me to defend her. Gia brushes a hand over her nape.
“Sorry, Violet,” Elliot says, batting his eyelashes like a girl. “I guess the admin department isn’t so bad.”
“She won’t need a position in the admin department,” Gus says.
“What?” Violet gives him a surprised look. “I thought you said—"
“You won’t need a promotion,” Gus says.
She frowns. “Why not?”
He takes a cigar from a box next to his place setting. “Because it’s time you get married.”
Silence falls over the table.
Gia averts her eyes. Elliot gloats. The only person who’s shocked by the announcement is Violet. She’s the only one who didn’t know.
