35
Violet
W orking at Scarlett isn’t glamorous. The dim lights, the pounding music, the endless stream of drinks—it’s just a means to an end.
I’ve been thinking lately I should find my sister. She may have tricked me into coming to America and, while it backfired in the worst possible way, she meant well... and who knows what nightmare she’s living through?
One sin shouldn’t define her whole life. A ticket to San Francisco isn’t that expensive, but I’ll need money to keep myself afloat while I’m looking for her, and the tips at the VIP bar here are amazing. After only a few weeks I’ve saved almost five hundred dollars. At this rate, I’ll have enough for the trip within two months.
I’m sure Broadway would help if I asked, but he’s already done so much it feels like a crime to demand more. I can do this myself. I need to do this myself if I want to feel like I’ve accomplished something meaningful.
“Violet,” Broadway summons my attention from his usual spot at the bar, the crystal glass before him empty.
“Another one?”
“No, baby. I need to head into the office for a while. I’ll watch you on the screens.”
Since he admitted he wants me, he’s not stopped calling me baby . A smile breaks out across my face every time, which, I think, is why he says it more and more often.
At first, he kept the endearments private, but since sex entered our lives a couple of weeks ago, they’ve gone public.
“I’ll be fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Well too bad, girl,” Hailey’s voice booms behind Broadway before she peeks over his shoulder. “You’re getting one anyway.” She gestures to herself, grinning. “Me. We’re having drinks as soon as you’re done working.”
Broadway tenses, his jaw clamping, eyes narrowing as he levels Hailey with a pointed stare. “I won’t be gone that long.”
“Then you’ll wait until we’re done gossiping.”
I wipe down the bar, ears perked.
“Does Carter know you’re here?” Broadway replies.
She rolls her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “What do you think?” She pats his shoulder, shooing him away. “He’d find out whether I told him or not. But I did. Now go. We’ll be here when you’re done.”
“Fine, but stay in the booth. No dancing.”
“He’s got a real protective streak, hasn’t he?” Hailey chuckles. “Kind of reminds me of someone.”
“Don’t compare me to your man,” Broadway grumbles. “He lost half his brain cells since you came along.”
“And I guess you already told him that,” she chuckles when Broadway ruffles her hair.
“Not once and not twice. Behave, alright? Keep my girl safe and relatively sober.”
A whole kaleidoscope of butterflies wildly flap their wings in my stomach. I got used to baby , but my girl ... that hits harder. Thin hairs stand to attention all over my arms and I’m biting my lips to keep a huge grin at bay.
He notices. Of course he does. He rarely takes his eyes off me long enough to miss a single expression.
“I can only promise that first part,” Hailey muses, sending him a full-wattage smile, then flaps her arms to make him leave.
He steals one more glance my way and leaves us alone, marching toward Carter’s office, the door hidden out of view.
“Wow... I have so many questions.”
“I doubt I have the answers.” I reach for a bottle of our finest white, waving it in Hailey’s face. “Is this okay, or do you want something else?”
“It’s fine. How long before you’re done?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“You know I’m getting you drunk, right? Broadway can hold your hair while you puke your guts out. You need a reset, Violet, and we need a good catch-up session.”
I chuckle at the visual of a big guy like Broadway holding my hair while I hug the toilet, mumbling random nonsense.
I bet I’d make a right fool of myself...
Alcohol would untangle my tongue and I’d end up spilling every thought I’ve ever had about him. I’d probably tell him how handsome he is. How safe I feel when he’s close, how much I love his scent, how many times I daydreamed about his lips after our first kiss. How much I daydream about his cock since we added sex into our relationship...
A sudden chill slithers down my spine and every hair on the back of my neck stands to attention. My hands grow slick with sweat even before I notice the incoming threat.
The bottle of white slips from my grasp, thudding against the floor. Thankfully, it doesn’t shatter, rolling away to stop against the bar.
“Violet,” Hailey prompts, resting both elbows on the counter, her brows meeting in the middle. “Are you okay?”
I’m too stunned to speak, cemented in place, eyes locked on two of Blaze Noretto’s favorite goons making their way toward me across the VIP area.
Norbert and Benjamin.
These two took the place of Blaze’s private bodyguards who were killed the night Carter rescued Hailey.
There’s nobody Noretto trusts more.
There’s less than thirty feet between us.
Every step they take thuds inside my head. The physical sound is swallowed by the music, but my imagination compensates, my focus narrowed to them and them only. They’re all I see, all I hear. They’re the reason bile rises to my throat and my knees almost fold.
My heartrate soars, mind filling with the countless times those two looked at me like I was candy on a stick. The howls and whistles they initiated whenever another limo pulled up to take me away. The vile comments about what they’d have done to me if the boss hadn’t scrapped the ballroom antics.
And those memories pull others to the surface... hours spent crying after a day out . Hours tolerating the men Blaze sold me to. Hours of fear, pain, humiliation, and hopelessness.
Norbert stops by the bar first. He looks me up and down, a smirk curling his lip. The strobe lights slicing time like an onion bounce off his handsome face.
“Look who we have here,” he drawls, his elbow landing on the counter. “Long time no see, Viera. You look good.”
He leans closer, prompting me to take a sharp step back and collide with the shelves behind me.
The bottles rattle, summoning Arthur’s eyes.
He looks from me to Norbert and back. I must look positively mortified because, in the next breath, Arthur swoops in, shielding me with his body.
“What can I get you?” he asks, flinging a towel over his shoulder, both hands gripping the wooden counter.
“I want Viera to serve us,” Norbert denotes, frowning when Benjamin elbows him under his ribs. “What?”
His eyes are glued to Hailey, a greedy glint shining in them. Norbert turns toward her, his chest expanding as he inhales.
“Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t the one who got away,” he muses, taking a step away from her. “How are you doing, sweetheart? Remember us?”
“Can’t say I do,” she shoots back, nonchalantly lifting her chin.
But her eyes, the glint of fear in those pretty blues, tells me she’s lying. And the way she rakes her gaze over the VIP area for Apollo only confirms the theory.
“Violet’s still learning,” Arthur says, drawing their attention from Hailey. “I’ll serve you.”
“Violet?” Benjamin chuckles. “Changed your name, did you? It’d suit you better if you dyed your hair again.”
Norbert huffs out a humorless laugh, zeroing in on Arthur. “Listen, man, we’re not here to cause any trouble. I don’t care if Violet fucks up our drinks as long as she pours them.” He angles his body to the left, stealing a glance at me around Arthur. “Come on, dolly, don’t act so skittish. I never touched you, did I?” he chuckles. “Two whiskeys. Please .”
Arthur moves first, but I grab his wrist, knowing damn well Norbert won’t let this slide.
“Two whiskeys,” I echo their order. “Coming right up.”
I take a deep breath that does little to calm my nerves and get to work, busying my shaking hands.
“Looks like Willard takes better care of his girls than Blaze does,” Benjamin chirps. “You look damn good, Viera.”
His gaze roves my body in the most inappropriate way, lingering on my cleavage even though not an inch of skin is exposed. He leans forward to ogle my ass. The back of my neck prickles, my heart thudding faster as the lingering fear claws its way to the surface.
“Yeah, you weren’t much fun to look at after Vincent brought you back that time,” Norbert drawls, the cocky smirk on his face making me nauseous. “Remember?”
I spill some of the whiskey, a lump forming in my throat. Of course I fucking remember. That night haunts my dreams to this day.
I turn away, pushing a few deep breaths down my nose. They’re not the first obnoxious men I’ve come across while working here. I can handle it.
“Such a fine ass,” Benjamin mutters.
My spine goes rigid, shoulders winding up to my ears. I close my eyes, squeezing the life out of the whiskey bottle to stop my hands trembling.
They won’t hurt me.
They will.
No, they won’t. Broadway won’t let them hurt me.
Broadway’s not here. He left! He doesn’t care!
He’s here. He cares. Norbert and Benjamin are just trying to get a reaction. They won’t touch me.
I rationalize just like Tom told me to. I tell myself the nightmare I lived through won’t happen again. That the panic rising in my chest is unjustified, that I’m safe.
I’m in Carter’s club.
There’s security here.
The bouncers won’t let them hurt me.
It’s not like Benjamin can jump over the counter, grab my hair and drag me out. Someone will react. Broadway will kill them both and the security will drag their dead bodies out.
Broadway’s in the back office just behind the wall, watching me on the live feed and so are Carter, Koby, Ryder, and Apollo.
There are cameras everywhere.
I’m not alone, locked in a room, the key deep in the pocket of a man who bought me with the sole intention of raping me until I pass out.
I keep reciting all the reasons I’m safe, reasons why Norbert and Benjamin muttering obscenities shouldn’t scare me. Simultaneously, I breathe deeply, steadying my hands. I pour their drinks then turn on my heel, plastering a polite smile onto my face.
“Two whiskeys,” I announce, sliding the crystal glasses along the counter...
...and Norbert grabs my wrist. His fingers lock around it tightly, sending panic surging through me in an instant.
One second, I’m talking myself down from an anxiety attack and the next my heart’s in my throat, eyes wide, legs weak, voice gone.
He pulls me closer, my ribs colliding with the edge of the counter. Every instinct inside me screams to run, but my legs are useless and my mind’s pinwheeling.
“You know, it’s careless of Willard to leave his girls alone,” he says, leaning over the counter.
“Let me go,” I say, louder than intended. “Let go.”
“Oh, relax,” he chuckles, waving a dismissive hand, his face an inch from mine, the whiskey on his breath making me nauseous. “What time do you finish here? How about we buy you a drink and catch up on old times?”
Adrenaline floods my system when his nose brushes mine. My stomach lurches, and I tug my hand back, using all the strength I have. I free my wrist, stumbling back into the liquor shelves. My heart’s pounding in my ears, and my vision swims with tears I refuse to shed.