Epilogue
Broadway
I lean against the side of my G Wagon in the underground parking lot beneath my penthouse, a small paper bag with purple hair shampoo in hand. Violet’s been talking about dying her hair for weeks, and today, I’m making it happen.
As soon as her therapy session is over.
Tom’s car’s parked nearby, which means they’re not done yet.
Cigarette smoke fills the air, dissipating around me in seconds. My wristwatch tells me it’s already ten minutes past nine in the evening. With her work schedule, Violet now meets Tom after work and only once a week, so they have a lot to talk about.
Still, when my cigarette expires, I’m starting to grow restless. I don’t impose on their sessions, but a small part of my messed-up mind starts worrying. They usually finish on time.
The rational part of me knows Violet’s perfectly safe on the thirty-ninth floor. Tonight’s bodyguard was on duty outside the building when I pulled over, and I trust Tom, but... yeah.
I worry. And lately, I worry even more than when we first met almost six months ago.
Another five restless minutes pass. I’m about to storm into the elevator and check what’s taking so long but, as I push away from my car, the metal door slides open and Tom exits, a briefcase in hand, his glasses sliding down his long, pointy nose.
“Everything good?” I ask, my words tinged with concern. “Is she okay?”
He lifts one eyebrow, crossing the parking lot toward me. “She’s fine. She had a lot to get off her chest.”
That doesn’t tell me much. I understand doctor-patient confidentiality, but it kills me that I don’t know what they talk about. It’s all guesswork based on Tom’s she’s fine and Violet’s I’m okay, Broadway, stop nagging .
Gritting my teeth, I nod, trapping other questions behind my lips before they spill out.
“She told me we’re done.”
“Done? No more therapy?” I ask, my throat tightening for two different reasons. One: I’m glad she’s doing so well that she thinks therapy is no longer needed. Two: I’m worried what will happen if she has a bad day. “You think that’s wise? Things are changing fast lately.”
“So I heard, but like I said, she’s okay. She doesn’t need me anymore. Everything you’re doing helps more than our sessions, but I told Violet she can call me whenever she feels the need to talk.”
My brows furrow, confusion taking center stage. “Everything I’m doing? What am I doing? What did she tell you?”
“You know I can’t discuss any details.”
“Then be vague.”
He pats my shoulder, a ghost of a smile curling his lips and, without a word of explanation, just a lousy “I’m always just a phone call away if she needs me,” he heads toward his car.
I need therapy to work through the confusion he just induced. And I know just the therapist to help me push the irrational worry aside.
I enter the elevator and exit on the thirty-ninth floor. The living room’s empty and so is the kitchen. I continue down the corridor, peeking into the kitchen, bathroom, then the spare bedroom Violet no longer uses.
She’s mine, she sleeps in my bed.
Our bed.
“I’m here,” her melodic voice beckons me into our bedroom where she stands by the bed, stripping off her clothes, eyes sparkling.
“Now that’s what I call hello ,” I say, closing the distance between us. “Top it off with a kiss.”
She chuckles, playfully pushing me away, then yelps when I grip her thighs and haul her up.
“Kiss me, Violet.”
A peck is all I get, so I take what I want, sinking into her sweet lips as I lay her on the bed in nothing but lingerie.
“I need a shower,” she whispers when I start peppering her neck with small kisses, moving lower, between the valley of her breasts, and lower still.
“Excellent idea, but I want to say hello first.”
She weaves her fingers in my hair, toying with the dark strands once I reach the mark and kiss the barely there bump.
“Hey there, little one.”
“I don’t think he can hear you yet.”
“I don’t care. Don’t take this away from me. And stop saying he . You don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy.”
She chuckles, tugging my hair so I’ll crawl over her. “My checkup—”
“Is tomorrow at nine am. I remember.”
“Will you be there? We might find out the sex if things go well.”
Violet’s sixteen weeks along, so it’s possible. “Of course I’ll be there. Can we leave Hailey behind this once?”
Since Violet took the pregnancy test, Hailey’s been by her side every step of the way. I think it’s her way of coping with the fact she has a half-sister we can’t locate. It’s been almost two months, but still no sign of Bianca. Violet took a test a few days after my meeting with Octavius, and Hailey took the role of auntie as if her life depended on it. She’s already bought a stack of clothes in neutral colors and has been planning the nursery whenever she comes over.
“I already told her she won’t be needed,” Violet admits, lifting her head off the pillow to reach my lips. “Carter’s complexion turns whiter than mine whenever Hailey puts her hand on my stomach.”
“He wants to marry her before they try for a baby. I think he’s worried she’ll want to get pregnant sooner. You know he can’t say no to her.” I stamp one last kiss on her nose before lifting her up again. “Come on, shower time.”
I carry her into the bathroom, setting her on the floor by the sink, and drop the paper bag on the shelf.
“What’s in there?” she asks, eyes darting between me and the bag.
“You’ll see.”
I gently push her under the stream of warm water, watching her skin flare pink. “I want to wash your hair. Close your eyes, Violet.”
“You want to wash my hair?” she echoes, one eyebrow raised. “Why?”
Despite the question, her eyes fall shut.
“I like taking care of you and... you keep saying you want your hair violet again, so I bought purple shampoo.”
She beams, eyes still closed. “Well, get to work then. How did you know purple shampoo will do the job?”
I strip off my clothes and join her in the shower, my cock like a metal pole jutting against her ass.
“Hailey gave me an extensive lesson in hair dye. I wasn’t sure how certain you were about the color change, so I chose the least permanent option.”
“And once you dye my hair?” she muses, leaning back to rest against my chest. “What then?”
“I think you know exactly what then, baby. Keep your eyes closed. I’ve never done this before.”
She gives me a curt nod. I open the shampoo bottle, pouring a generous amount onto my hand, then lather it into her hair, covering the length of it before gently scrubbing her scalp.
Purple foam covers my arms up to my elbows and the water pooling at our feet quickly turns a pale shade of lavender.
A little moan flies past Violet’s lips when I massage the base of her scalp.
“I love it when you do that,” she admits.
“Why do you think I keep doing it?”
She laughs quietly, still as a statue while I rinse the shampoo. The lavender hue disappears down the drain and the water turns clear again, but Violet’s hair is far from the stark whiteness it has been for months.
My cock swells and my heart thuds faster when I see that familiar washed-out purple hue and remember the night I hauled her into my arms for the first time, feeling as if the world had tilted on its axis.
“There’s my girl,” I say, spinning her to face me. “Open your eyes, baby.”
She looks right at me before her eyes follow the path of mine. She stares at her long hair clinging to her breasts. A small smile lights up her face. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I tangle my fingers in her locks, then gather them into a tight fist and the base of her spine. “This is how you looked when I touched you for the first time and realized how royally fucked I am.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, oh. I knew you were mine when I wrapped my arms around you.” I lift her up again only to push her against the wall, her pussy perfectly aligned with the head of my raging cock. “This is when you’re supposed to agree and tell me you’re mine, Violet.”
A soft sigh leaves her lips, eyes darting lower. “It’s been a long day... how about you remind me who I belong to?”
I thrust forward, filling her fast. “Your wish is my command, baby.”