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When it feels bearable. When will I stop wanting him? I’m his wife, and he wants me to be his slut. I wouldn’t even mind if he’d acknowledge me and let me in.
My phone pings with the girls chat, asking to meet up and I reply.
I can’t. Headache.
Not even half an hour later, all three women burst into my room. They could tell I was lying.
Chiara huffs. “That’s not a headache. That’s Cameron. What did he do now?”
“Nothing.”
That saddens me the most. He went after what he wanted and ruined my heart in the process.
Aurora sits next to me. “Sulking never helps. You know what helps? Showing him you don’t care about him.”
We all eye her. I am sure no one expected that from her.
“My brother is emotionally stunted. He got fucked up in the head.”
If she only knew. But this is what he does, he protects them from everything. And now I’m doing the same.
“So, how afraid are you?” Alessandra asks.
“Why?”
“He knows this version of you. Let’s show him the one he wants more, the real Violet, beneath the wigs and black clothes.”
“I . . .”
Alessandra approaches me and takes my hand in hers. “I won’t push you, but I know that inside of you is a woman who has been put aside for too long.”
A tiny voice inside of me urges me to say yes. With them at my side, it will be okay. I am going to do this for myself. Our first deal will remain in place. I help his career, and he helps me get out of my shell. We’ve accomplished that. There’s no need for anything more.
With renewed determination, I hop out of bed.
My stomach growls. “Maybe I should eat something first.”
I call Marie and we dig in when she brings us various plates of food. Afterward, I change and we all pile into an SUV, with three more flanking us.
“That’s a lot of security,” I say.
“It’s the only way to go out at the moment,” Aurora says.
“But are we safe?”
Chiara shrugs. “Safe as we can be.”
I tell them about Cameron’s refusal to let me go to the world championships in Vegas.
Chiara looks at me knowingly. “You know what to do.”
The driver parks in an underground garage and we take an elevator to the fifth floor. The doors slide open to a beauty salon. A woman rounds the reception area, and her friendly greeting to the girls tells me they must be regulars.
When she sees me, her brows furrow. Yeah, I don’t fit with them, with my all-black outfit, oversized sunglasses, and silver wig with pink tips.
“I’m Violet.”
“Nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”
