Chapter 9
Ford
Violet’s attitude should have annoyed the hell out of me, but in true Violet fashion, that fire and fight drove me crazy in all the wrong ways.
Because if it had just been the two of us alone in the office, I would have been tempted to repeat what had happened at The Players Club and put her across my knees so I could spank her ass and remind her who was in charge.
But this wasn’t a BDSM scene and it sure as hell wasn’t a game. This was Violet’s life on the line and until the police proved otherwise, I had to assume she was being targeted and in danger.
The head of security, Conway, had already filled me in on the details prior to me meeting with Violet.
He’d shared what information they’d been able to gather so far.
Since they’d had the man’s face on the security feed, and he’d used a credit card a few times in the casino, they knew his name was Joe Johnson.
He was new to town, volatile, and had already been banned from another casino for losing his temper.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to find a home address for him in Vegas.
His last known residence had been Chicago, and there was no employment record for him in the city, either, which made him difficult to find.
Also, unfortunately, he wasn’t a priority to the police when they had more pressing issues on their hands, and there was no proof that he’d been the one to sideswipe Violet.
Conway promised to keep me updated, but for now my only job was to keep Violet safe and that was something I could do.
Violet headed out to the casino floor to start her shift at one of the poker tables, and since I’d been given clearance I was able to stay close, remaining in the pit with the gaming supervisor.
I kept my eye on Violet as she worked the table.
She was good—better than good, actually.
She was a natural at charming the tourists and engaging people in the game.
But she also took her cues from the gamblers at the table and there were times when she remained quiet and dealt the cards while exuding silent professionalism.
It was no wonder the casino valued her. A dealer’s worth came down to trust, and Violet had that in spades.
The manager on the floor had mentioned she was often requested for private games in hotel suites or the homes of high-rolling whales.
The casino didn’t hand out that responsibility lightly.
The dealer had to be sharp, reliable, and composed, and Violet was all that when it came to her job.
I also learned that Violet’s shifts varied.
Sometimes days, sometimes evenings. Tonight her shift ended at ten pm, and while she clocked out and gathered her things from the employee room locker, I placed an order for dinner on my phone, making sure it was delivered to Violet’s place, since I’d been given her home address as part of the assignment.
She adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder as she walked toward me, side-eyeing me with that familiar annoyance. Without a word, she passed me, and I automatically fell into step beside her as we headed toward the exit.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you lurking,” she said, her tone dry.
I laughed, refusing to let her prickly disposition phase me. I knew she wasn’t happy about this situation and I was pretty certain her attitude was her way of dealing with that loss of control. “I don’t lurk. I protect. Big difference.”
She shot me another sidelong glance, her heels clicking against the pavement. “I can walk myself to my car, you know. Been doing it for years without a bodyguard glued to my hip.”
“Not anymore.” My tone left no room for argument. “Did you not hear the part where I’ll be guarding you until the situation is resolved?”
“Loud and clear, sir,” she said, a flash of defiance in her green eyes.
God help me, that look nearly undid me. I wanted to grab her wrist, press her back against the nearest car, and remind her exactly how good it felt when she stopped fighting me and gave in.
That smart mouth of hers was begging to be silenced, and every time she threw a challenge my way, it made my palms itch.
We reached her vehicle—a rental car judging by the plates. I pulled the keys from her hand before she could fumble with them, unlocked the door, and held it open. “You might not want a bodyguard, but you’ve got one. I’ll be close by at all times until this threat is gone.”
Violet slid into the driver’s seat with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “You do realize how creepy that sounds, right?”
“Only if you don’t trust the guy doing the guarding,” I replied.
I waited for a smart remark, but she surprised me by exhaling a deep breath, meeting my gaze, and saying, “I hate that anyone has to watch over me, but I do trust you.”
For a second, her words caught me off guard.
Violet, who never let anyone see a crack in her armor, was trusting me.
I knew how much it cost her to say that, how much she hated needing anyone.
That trust wasn’t something I took lightly.
Protecting people was my job, but protecting her? That felt personal.
I followed her home, and after we arrived we headed up the pathway to the front door of her townhome. When we got to the small front porch, she gaped at the pizza boxes and food bags that had already been delivered.
“What’s this?” she asked, almost defensively.
“A late dinner,” I said, picking up the items while Violet unlocked and opened her door. “You’ve been on your feet all night. I thought you’d be hungry, and so am I. We can eat while we go over everything and I get settled in.”
She bristled at the reminder that I was going to be in her personal space. That previous moment of vulnerability, where she’d admitted she trusted me, was gone and the guarded Violet was back.
Violet huffed out a breath as she looked at the array of food items I’d set on the living room coffee table. “What did you even order?”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you liked on your pizza, so I ordered half supreme, half cheese, and also a pepperoni and sausage. Plus the wings and the cinnamon twists, and the chicken alfredo. Their pasta is actually really good.”
Violet pursed her lips at me, like she could sense I was attempting to commit the heinous crime of ‘taking care of her’. “Right. I’ll get us drinks.”
She disappeared into the kitchen while I opened everything up and set out the napkins and paper plates that had come with the order. She returned with two cans of soda, plopping down on the couch hard enough to make a statement. She shoved one of the drinks towards me.
“I want you to know that just because I have to put up with you being here doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”
A slow smile tugged at my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.”
I made a calculated guess and slid a slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza onto Violet’s plate before she could protest. She picked it up, eyeing it like it might be poisoned.
“Relax,” I said, grabbing a slice for myself. “It’s just food. Not a binding contract.”
“You sure?” she muttered irritably, biting into her pizza and arching her brow at me. “Feels like the fine print says, ‘sign here and surrender your independence to Ford Perish, professional pain in the ass, for the foreseeable future’.”
I chuckled and reached for a chicken wing, refusing to be baited, which I was pretty certain she wanted. “That’s one hell of a title. Rolls right off the tongue.”
She tossed her crust onto her plate. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” I murmured, smirking at her, thinking how damn good she looked all riled up, like she had no clue that she was the most tempting thing in the room for me. “Here I am. Sitting on your couch. Eating pizza. Keeping you alive.”
Her lips parted, and for a beat she looked like she might actually smile. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, trying to mask it. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” she accused.
“Not as much as I enjoyed the last time you were under me,” I dared to say.
Her entire body went still. A rush of color bloomed high on her cheeks, as if she was remembering that night, too. For a second, I caught the quick rise and fall of her chest before she snapped her gaze back to mine, sharp and defiant. “God, you’re arrogant.”
“No,” I said, my tone soft and husky as I held her gaze. “Just honest.” Because despite her attitude and the way she tried to bury every tell behind that glare, there was no denying the heat simmering between us, ready to ignite the second she stopped fighting it.
We finished eating in silence, and once we were done I helped Violet clean up and put away the left overs. Then I focused on the job I’d been hired to do.
“Show me your locks,” I said.
She blinked at me in confusion. “What?”
“Front door, back door, windows,” I said, my voice all business. “If someone wanted to get in here, I want to know how easy it would be.”
Her arms tightened across her chest, eyes flaring with indignation. “So what, you’re going to critique my entire house now?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Actually, yes, I am.”
For the next half hour I checked everything—deadbolts, latches, window frames, the sliding door that led out back.
Some things had been upgraded during Andrea’s stalker situation, but no security was fool proof if someone wanted to get to Violet bad enough.
The thought made something primal coil tight inside me.
Violet trailed after me, arms crossed, her exasperation thick in the air, but I didn’t give a damn about her annoyance. This was my job, and I took her safety seriously.
When I was done and satisfied that her townhome was as secure as it could be, I turned to face her. “This will do for now,” I said, giving her a steady look. “You’ve got decent locks and no obvious entry points.”
She snorted. “Such high praise.”
I ignored her sarcasm. “That doesn’t mean that someone can’t break in if they wanted to, but that’s why I’m here,” I said, stepping into her space so she had to tip her head back to meet my eyes, knowing this next part had the potential of making her bristle.
“And from now on, you’re going to follow a few rules. ”
Her eyes narrowed, but I pressed on before she could argue.
“Rule one—you lock every door, every window, every time,” I said, my voice leaving no room for debate.
“Even if you’re just taking out the trash or checking the mail.
Rule two—you don’t open the door to anyone but me, Andrea, or your brother.
No exceptions, unless I’ve vetted them beforehand.
Rule three—you keep your phone charged and on you.
Always. Because until this is over your safety isn’t negotiable. Not with me.”
Her chin tilted up, her mouth tugging into a mocking little smirk. “Wow. Rules and lectures,” she said, her eyes sparking. “Should I be taking notes, or do you hand out pamphlets after this bossy presentation?”
I leaned closer and arched a brow. “Careful, Trouble,” I murmured, allowing the moment to take a more sinful turn. “Keep mouthing off, and I’ll add a fourth rule, one that ends with you on your knees, remembering exactly how much you like following my orders.”
I heard her quick inhale, which she tried concealing with a slow, taunting smile. “Is that how you pitch yourself? Threats disguised as foreplay?”
“Not a threat. A promise,” I said, enjoying that I’d managed to fray her composure a bit. “Care to test me?”
She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the flush on her cheeks. “God, you’re insufferable.”
“So you’ve said…and yet you can’t stop looking at my mouth,” I countered softly, watching her lips part just a fraction as I called her out on the truth.
Her eyes flicked back up to mine, and she looked momentarily flustered—rare for Violet—before she quickly recovered.
For one dangerous second I considered closing the gap between us.
Claiming her right there against her own front door.
But giving her what she wanted—even if she didn’t admit it out loud—would have been too easy. And too soon.
So I pulled back instead, letting the sexual tension stretch taut between us. Her eyes sparked with frustration, and that flush in her cheeks deepened. I saw it all—anger, arousal, defiance, all tangled together. Exactly the way I liked her.
“That’s enough for tonight,” I said, stepping past her like I hadn’t just been a breath away from kissing her senseless. “I’ve got more locks to check.”
She spun away toward the kitchen, her hips swaying too enticingly for my peace of mind. “Better check the pantry locks, too, bodyguard,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want the cereal to escape.”
I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. That crack about the cereal was honestly pure gold.
She thought her sass kept me at arm’s length.
Thought that rolling her eyes and tossing smart little jabs kept her in control.
But she couldn’t hide the pulse in her throat, or the little catch in her breath when I invaded her personal space.
Every tell gave away her desire and made me harder, hungrier for her.
She could fight me, mouth off, pretend she didn’t want it, or me. But sooner or later I’d have her spread out and writhing under me again, only this time I’d make damn sure she remembered exactly who she belonged to.
And when I finally sink into you again, I won’t stop until you’re ruined for every man but me.