31. Chord
thirty-one
Chord
33 DAYS TILL HOCKEY SEASON
I pace the length of the front porch and discreetly check my watch. As I pass Violet again, curled up with her sketchbook in the white Adirondack chair, she raises her head and spares me a curious but slightly exasperated look from behind her big glasses. She’s so fucking cute.
“What’s the matter with you today?” she asks. “You’re all… twitchy.”
I force myself to stop moving and drop into the chair opposite her. Her brows draw together, and when I’m quiet for too long, she closes her sketchbook, sets it and her pencil on the table between us, and clasps her hands in her lap. The look she gives me is affectionate patience.
I check my watch again, then glance anxiously at the driveway. Fuck it.
“Don’t get mad,” I begin.
Violet chuckles, but her expression is confused. “When have you ever seen me get mad?”
“Then don’t freak out.”
She presses her lips together before dragging the bottom one between her teeth. “Chord—”
“And don’t say no.”
“Okay, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
I frown and cup my fist with the opposite palm. This is a pep talk, and I can do that. I’m good at that. I’m five championship Cups good at that. I’m sixteen million dollars a year good at that.
Jesus. I’m pep-talking myself now. Get a grip, Davenport.
“Tonight’s the San Francisco Fury Foundation Gala,” I say.
Violet’s body relaxes with a relieved sigh. “You had me worried for a moment. I RSVP’d no to that ages ago. You want to stay out of the spotlight this summer, and I’d have told you if the team had any issue with you not going, but nobody said a word.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
From the corner of my vision, I see a car approaching the driveway, and I wish I’d started this conversation half an hour ago.
Violet frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Coach talked to me. They want everyone on the roster to make an effort to be there. No exceptions.”
“Okay?”
“He also said I could bring a date.”
Understanding passes across her features, and Violet shakes her head. “Oh, no. Not me.”
The sound of tires rolling over gravel announces the arrival of the car, and she gives it a quick, puzzled glance. “Who is that?”
“That’s your dress.”
“My dress ?”
“Yes. Your dress.”
Another car pulls up behind the first, and Violet audibly swallows. “And that is…?”
“Your hair and makeup artist.”
She groans and drops her face into her hands. “Oh, no.”
I knew this would be a challenge, but I’m so certain that tonight will be a success that I push aside any guilt I feel about dragging her so firmly out of her comfort zone, pull her hands from her face, and draw her to her feet.
“I have to go tonight. I have to wear a tux and smile for the cameras and pretend like I’m having a good time, but I can’t have a good time if I’m not with you. I need you next to me.”
Violet drops her forehead on my chest and latches onto the sides of my t-shirt. I rest my chin on the top of her head and brush my fingers over her bare arms until she shivers and presses herself against me.
“Please?”
Behind me, the car doors open and close, and I sense people waiting for the right time to introduce themselves, but I won’t rush this moment. If Violet needs time to think, she’ll have it. If she really can’t do this, I won’t make her. I’ll cancel the whole thing. Tell Coach I’m sick. But I know in my gut that if Violet puts on this dress and steps onto that red carpet tonight, it’ll change everything.
Violet mumbles something against my shirt, and my heart stops.
“What was that?” I ask.
She turns her head so I can hear her. “I said, okay.”
“Yes!” I grin and bend my knees, wrapping my arms around her thighs and hoisting her up so I can kiss her. She squeals and leans down until her mouth meets mine, and I spend a good few long moments enjoying the taste of her, not caring what it looks like or how long it takes.
I’m so proud of her.
Finally, I set her on her bare feet and lead her to the top of the porch steps. Below, a sophisticated woman in head-to-toe black and streaks of gray through her dark hair stands with two black garment bags held aloft in one hand and the handle of a wheeling suitcase in the other. She shares a friendly look with the hair and makeup artist, a younger blonde woman in jeans and sneakers who has a larger suitcase propped up next to her.
“Thanks for coming,” I greet them. “Violet, this is—”
Violet gasps, her free hand flying to her cheek. “Victoria Hall!”
I fight a satisfied grin, though, by the look on Victoria’s face, I’m not hiding shit. Victoria has dressed me for the last ten years, and she’s one of the few people I’d consider a friend.
The world-renowned designer of haute couture rolls her cherry-red lips and takes Violet’s stunned expression as her cue to approach. I jog down the few steps to relieve her of the garment bags and suitcase, and she gives me a nod of thanks before climbing the steps and offering Violet her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says.
Violet’s mouth remains open in a little “O” as she accepts Victoria’s greeting, and when it’s clear that words are beyond Violet right now, Victoria puts a gentle arm around her shoulders and guides her toward the front door.
“I think we’ll get started,” she says.
“Good idea.” I nod toward Simone, the hair and makeup artist Victoria recommended. “I’ll bring that up. You go ahead.”
I follow the women up the stairs to Violet’s room, detouring to my bedroom to hang the second garment bag in my closet, then return with the additional suitcase. Victoria and Simone murmur quietly together as they move into the bathroom to set up, so I pull a stunned Violet to the side of the room with the plan to revive her with a little mouth-to-mouth.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
Violet casts a sideways look toward the bathroom. “That’s Victoria Hall!” she whispers. “I cannot believe I’m wearing a Victoria Hall design tonight. Chord, this is… This is too much. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You’re going to be spectacular tonight. I just want you to enjoy this experience, okay? Let me be the one to worry—if there’s anything to worry about, which there isn’t. Your only job is to enjoy the moment. Deal?”
She shakes her head with an overwhelmed little laugh. “Okay. Deal.”
After one more kiss, I release Violet into the care of Simone for… whatever it is that women do in these situations. Victoria hovers nearby, and I beckon her over.
“So, you’ll let me know when it’s time to give Violet the dress?” I whisper.
Victoria rests a hand on my arm. “I won’t forget. I’m looking forward to it almost as much as you are.”
I seriously doubt that, but I thank her with a grateful smile and leave the room.
After a workout and a sandwich, I hit the shower. For the first time since I got to the ranch, I take extra care shaving, put product through my hair, splash on cologne, and then unzip the black designer tux Victoria made for the event. Everything fits perfectly. Pants that give just enough to be comfortable. A tailored jacket with satin lapels and a simple white pocket square that buttons in at my waist. White shirt with black buttons. Platinum cuff links. Black leather shoes. A bow tie I’ve got no clue what to do with, so I loop it under my collar and leave it loose for Victoria to take care of later.
I unbox the new Rolex I ordered for the occasion and attach it to my wrist, then dip into the jeweler’s bag again to retrieve two more black velvet boxes. I head downstairs and set them on the hall table just as a black stretch limousine pulls up outside and Victoria appears at the top of the staircase. My stomach tightens, and I climb to meet her.
“Are we ready?” I ask.
She takes one look at my bow tie and shakes her head before expertly fixing it. “We’re ready.”
My heart doesn’t race this hard in even the toughest games as I follow Victoria to Violet’s bedroom. She’s standing in front of the oversized full-length mirror in a long, flowing robe, her hair a perfectly styled crown of glossy chocolate curls. Her professionally applied makeup is subtle and accentuates her big eyes, thick lashes, and full mouth, yet simple enough to complement her natural blush.
“You look wonderful,” she says breathily before considering me with a puzzled smile. “But what are you doing in here?”
“Turn around,” I tell her, my voice gravelly with overwhelm, and with that same curious expression, she slowly spins to face the mirror.
I accept a scrap of silk from Simone as I cross the room, and Violet watches my reflection as I stand behind her and carefully cover her eyes with the soft teal fabric.
“Chord?” she whispers as I tie the silk around her hair with reverent movements. “What’s going on?”
I ghost my hands over her arms and she shivers even with the fabric between my fingers and her skin, and I set my lips to her ear. “Do you trust me?”
Her pink lips part with a shaky breath, and she nods. “I do.”
“Then relax, Wallflower. It’ll all make sense very soon.”
With reluctant steps, I back away from Violet and nod to Victoria. She unzips the garment bag holding Violet’s dress and carefully removes it from the hanger. It’s stunning—so much more vibrant and alive than I imagined from the sketches—and my breath catches with anticipation. As beautiful as it is now, it’ll be a thousand times more magnificent when Violet is wearing it. I can’t wait to see her face light up when she recognizes the design.
With competent, professional care, Victoria and Simone ease Violet out of her robe and help her step into the gown. She trusts their quiet instructions implicitly, moving her body as they direct, and my mouth is dry as they finally fasten the zipper and arrange the layers of the skirt just so.
Victoria holds Violet’s hand as she blindly steps into the silver heels Simone slips onto her feet, and when the picture is complete, air rushes into my lungs and becomes trapped there as Victoria and Simone step away.
I return to my place behind Violet, my gaze sweeping over her reflection. The dress. The color. The blindfold. The lips.
“Chord?” Violet asks with tentative fingers on the scarf around her face. “Is that you?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks, so I try again. “It’s me.”
Her full, painted lips tremble with a nervous smile. “Can I see the dress now? Please?”
I kiss her bare shoulder, and she whimpers quietly. “I’ve told you before. You never have to beg me for anything.”
I tug on the scrap of silk, and it falls to the floor. I watch Violet’s reflection for the exact moment she realizes what I’ve done. Her gasp is followed by a breathless oh! Her wide chestnut eyes grow glassy with emotion as her manicured hands hover over her mouth before hesitantly brushing over the dress as if to make sure it’s real.
It’s real. And it’s hers.
Violet is stunning. Elegant. Exquisite. Her neck and shoulders are bare, her breasts accentuated by the strapless corset that wraps around her ribs in a fine, intricate net of lace and flowers. The dress drops from above the waist, falling to the floor in layers of sheer teal fabric that hints at the shape of her long legs underneath.
Blinking back tears, taking shaky breaths, hands exploring the intricate lines of a dress she’s only ever seen as a drawing in her sketchbook, Violet blushes so damn prettily. No, not blushes. Glows .
I try to swallow, but it hurts, so I run my tongue over my lips and try again. Before I get a word out, Violet reaches behind her to thread a hand in mine and meets my eyes in the mirror.
“How?” she asks.
I reply with a proud grin and cut my eyes to Victoria. “I shared your sketches and measurements with Victoria, and she brought your vision to life.”
Violet returns my smile with one of stunned gratitude and turns to search out Victoria. “Thank you so much,” she says.
“You’re very welcome,” Victoria replies from where she stands at the far end of the room with Simone by her side. “It was a pleasure to work on such a gorgeous gown. You have a wonderful eye for texture and movement.”
The color in Violet’s cheeks deepens with the drop of her eyes until she raises her thick lashes and meets my eyes in the mirror’s reflection.
Time stands still. My heart beats painfully and erratically. I’ve forgotten how to speak. I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Then she whispers, “Thank you.”
Time starts up again.
Fuck. I’m not falling for Violet anymore. I’ve fallen. I’m down. I’m done.
“You look—” The words catch in my throat as I take her hand. “You’re beautiful.”
The color rises in her face, and she gives me the tiniest shake of her head. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“I’m having a little trouble myself.”
“Do you—” She licks her lips, and her throat bobs. “What do you think of the dress?”
“It’s the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen, and you look radiant in it.” Violet smiles shyly, and I offer her my elbow. “Shall we?”
With her arm in mine, I escort Violet to the stairs, trying not to get distracted by her silver-heeled foot peeking out from under her skirt and hitting the steps in a way that makes her hips sway. Her fragrance consumes me, and I can’t feel my own feet meet the floor, but then we’re miraculously in the foyer, where her gaze slides past me to the windows.
Her eyes widen. “Is that a limousine?”
It’s impossible to look at anything but her when I reply, “Yeah. It’s almost time to go.”
She blinks, the first real hint of nerves showing on her face, but she nods as if to herself. “Okay.”
“Just breathe, Wallflower.” I inhale and wait for her to breathe in with me, and we exhale together. “Tonight is going to be great.”
“Mm-hm. I know.”
I angle her toward the hall mirror and brush a finger along her collarbone, smiling crookedly at the goosebumps. “There’s just one thing missing.”
Violet glances down at her dress, presses an open palm to her chest, and carefully touches her hair. “I don’t think I could handle anymore, Chord. This is already too much. I—”
I set a soft finger to her lips. “Just one more small thing. I promise.”
I pick up the first velvet box on the hall table. It’s a little larger than my hand, and I set in on my palm and hold it up, but I don’t open it yet.
Violet shakes her head and stares at the box like there’s a tiny wild animal inside what is clearly a jewelry box. “I can’t,” she says. “I don’t deserve it.”
“You deserve the world, and I’m going to do my best to give it to you, but this…” I tap the box. “I got this on loan for tonight, so don’t worry about anything other than enjoying it, okay?”
I press the latch, and the lid hinges open, revealing a sparkling diamond pendant inside. Violet gasps.
“Chord. It’s beautiful, but it must be worth a fortune. I can’t wear this.”
“It’s not half as stunning as you or worth a fraction of what you bring to my life. And yes. You can.”
With hesitant fingers, Violet reaches in and touches the necklace. The temptation is too much, and I snap the lid down like that iconic scene in Pretty Woman . The box bites her fingertips, and Violet jerks back before bursting into laughter.
“You did not just do that!”
I warm at the joy in her expression. “I couldn’t help it. Here.” I set the box on the hall table and turn her to face the mirror above it. She watches in the reflection as I put the necklace around her throat, my fingers brushing her skin as I fasten it at the back of her neck. It’s a simple piece—elegant and understated, just like Violet—and she runs a light touch over the diamond as I reach past her for the second box. I slide out a matching ring, press myself against Violet’s back, and loop my arms around her to find her right hand. I slide the ring onto her finger as she watches it settle into place.
“This feels like a dream,” she murmurs, gazing at the ring before letting her eyes drift shut. “And I don’t want to wake up.”
I kiss the side of her neck as I slide a hand over her hip. “It’s not a dream, which means it never has to end.”
“Are you sure?” she whispers.
“I’m sure.” I stand by her side like those tuxes in her sketchbook and slip her hand into the crook of my elbow. “And we’ve only just begun.”