Chapter 2
2
VIOLET
“ I ’m here to see Alaric Stone,” I say to the guard at the gate. His brows pinch inward as his eyes rake over my body in the front seat of my car. I hold my shoulders back and let him check me out. He thinks I’m here to fuck his boss, and once upon a time, I was.
But that was over a year ago, and that ship has sailed.
Tonight, I’m here for more important business.
“Your name?” he asks skeptically.
“Violet Scarrow.”
He turns his back to me and mutters my name into his earpiece. After an excruciating wait, he finally opens the gate and ushers me in. Driving down the long, narrow road that leads to Alaric’s sprawling mansion, I swallow down the anxiety that keeps creeping up. The only reason I didn’t text Alaric first is because I didn’t want him to turn me down over text message. If he looks into my eyes and sees my desperation, I might actually have a chance.
I have to do this. I would rather die before I let some asshole take Birdie from me.
Alaric is the only friend I have and, at this point, he’s hardly a friend at all. I haven’t spoken to him since our fling ended, but there was a time when we were close. Besides, he’s my only option. I just hope he’ll be able to help me.
When I reach the front of his house, there are men there to open my door for me and usher me inside. Alaric is the guy people call when they need a mess cleaned up—whether it’s a political scandal, a personal vendetta, or a business negotiation. Alaric has a way of making people’s problems go away. I know this from experience.
We met at a party my mother hosted a couple of years ago. I was a rebellious twenty-one-year-old, and he was a broody thirty-eight-year-old. Alaric was the only down-to-earth person I knew. He wasn’t like the rest. He didn’t try to charm me or get me into his bed. But after some deep conversations and a bottle of wine, I ended up there anyway.
On multiple occasions over a few months.
I could have loved Alaric, but I was too love-drunk for someone else. And the moment Birdie admitted she felt the same way…it was over with him.
As the door to his house opens, I see Alaric standing in the entryway waiting for me.
“Hello, Violet. What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you,” he says with a glass half full of amber liquid in his hand. His tone and expression are not as welcoming as I’d like. He’s on guard and skeptical of my unexpected visit.
“Hello, Alaric,” I reply, crossing the entryway toward him. The click of my heels against the hardwood floor echoes through the giant house.
When I reach him, I stop about a foot away and stare into his eyes. I nearly forgot how handsome he is. For a man now in his early forties, he’s still as sexy as ever. With jet-black hair and haunting blue eyes, he has a rugged appeal and distinguished allure. From what I learned during our short fling, he came from nothing and clawed his way to the top. I have no doubt that while he lives a life of luxury, he’d be more than able to thrive with nothing at all.
Which is also why he terrifies me. That sort of survival instinct comes from being cunning, ruthless, and not doing favors for others.
“To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you come here to seduce me?” he asks with a mischievous smirk.
“No. I…need a favor,” I reply, trying to appear genuine.
“I don’t do favors, Violet,” he replies coldly.
My shoulders fall, and my face starts to soften with desperation. “Will you just hear me out? I do have something to bargain with,” I say in a pleading tone.
His jaw clenches as his eyes narrow. For a few moments, he just stares at me in contemplation.
Finally, he nods and turns away, walking toward his office. “Fine. Follow me,” he calls.
I quickly step in line, following behind him. When we reach his office, one of his men closes the door behind us, shutting me in with Alaric. Then he sits behind his giant mahogany desk, gesturing toward the extra chair for me to sit. I clutch my purse in front of me as I keep my spine straight as an arrow.
After Alaric lights his cigar, he nods at me. “Go ahead, then.”
This is all so formal and different from the way we used to be. I’d come over, and we’d get drunk on his leather couch before getting naked and fucking in nearly every room of this giant place.
I hate how odd things feel between us now. I clear my throat and swallow down my nerves. “This weekend is the Black Rose Auction, and I know your name is on the list.”
“How do you know that?” he asks curiously.
“I overheard my mother gossiping to my sister, and she mentioned you.”
“What exactly were they gossiping about?” he asks.
“Possible suitors for my stepsister.”
Alaric laughs with his teeth around his cigar. “I’m not interested in finding a bride or being a suitor .”
“I know,” I reply flatly. My fingers grip the bag tighter. I need to frame this the right way, or I could lose all hope of this working. “I want you to bid on her, and I want you to win.”
“I just said?—”
“I know what you said,” I reply, cutting him off. “I want you to bid on my stepsister, and I want you to win her, but I don’t expect you to actually marry her. In fact, once you win her, she will be free. We will both be free.”
He stares at me for a long time, his brow growing more and more furrowed with each second. Then he rests his cigar on the marble ashtray and leans forward. “Why would you want me to win your sister’s hand in marriage but not marry her?”
“Step,” I say, sitting straighter.
“Excuse me?”
“She’s my stepsister . And she’s not entering this auction by choice. My mother is forcing her to in order to receive a hefty payout and be rid of the burden at the same time. I care about my stepsister very much, and I don’t want to see her get sold off to some rich asshole who will only abuse her and force her into something she doesn’t want. So I’m asking you to help me.”
“How old is she?” he asks with concern.
“Nineteen,” I reply.
“Then why doesn’t she just move out? She’s an adult now.”
“Because my mother has done everything in her power to control Birdie. She’s limited her access to the outside world so that Birdie has no way out. It’s twisted and wrong, and if I thought I could get Birdie out of there without my mother coming to find us, I would have already. But my mother is conniving and evil. And she would never let us have a shred of happiness at her expense.”
Alaric leans back in his chair and stares at me as he picks up his cigar and takes a puff of it. “So you want me to bid on your sister—sorry, step sister. Bring her back here, away from your mother. And then you and she will run off together forever?”
I force myself to swallow. “Yes. Basically.”
“What’s in it for me?” he asks with a raised brow.
Taking a deep breath, I open my purse and pull out the blue satchel. His attention is glued to the thing in my hands as I open it and pull out the gold chain with the glistening sapphire encased in shimmering diamonds.
“A family heirloom,” I say as I pass it to him.
Holding the pendant in the palm of his hand, he inspects it carefully. Then he gives me a reassuring nod. “This is beautiful.”
“It will cover whatever you have to bid on Birdie.”
As he passes it back, he gives me a skeptical glance. “I assume you weren’t invited to the auction as a bidder, then.”
I take the necklace and place it back in the blue velvet satchel. “Correct. So, I need someone who was.”
“And you can’t just offer your mother this necklace in exchange for your sister’s freedom?”
“She doesn’t know I have it. Besides, my mother does not show mercy or empathy. The only happiness and prosperity she cares about is her own.”
His face remains in a skeptical grimace as he stares at me. He picks up his cigar and takes a puff in contemplation. Then he stubs it out in the ashtray as he stands up and fixes his tie. “I’ll think about it.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“What you’re asking is no small task, Violet. I’d be putting my neck out for you and your stepsister. I’ll need to think this through.”
“But…I thought you were my friend,” I plead.
He lets out a haughty chuckle. “We were never friends, Violet.”
My lips set in a thin line as I let his gaze pierce this impersonal air between us. His words hurt, and not because I am still pining for him, but because it would appear that he is holding out hope for me. He seems bitter and jaded. Did I leave too abruptly last year? Did he really care that much? Is this some form of payback for ending things like I did?
When he tries to pass me by, I grab his arm and stare into his eyes. “Alaric, I’m desperate. Please.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
No matter how much my lip trembles or how hard I squeeze his arm, his answer doesn’t change. When I feel as if all hope is lost, my grip loosens. He ushers me to the door, where his men escort me back out to my car.
Before getting in, I turn back to stare at him. Once upon a time, Alaric and I shared something special. Even if I did end things too abruptly, I thought he cared about me—at least enough to help me. I must have been wrong.
With a simple nod, he looks me in the eye as he says, “See you tomorrow, Violet.”