Chapter 4 #3
Levi called after her, but I assumed she had retreated to her room. Levi cursed under his breath before heading back outside. He slammed the patio door behind him, and the sound nearly shattered my eardrums.
Fuck, that hurt. I dialed down the volume and watched Levi return to grilling meat with aggressive precision.
Why money? Why now? And why the deflection? The questions circled like vultures. When Violet failed to emerge from whatever hole she had crawled into, curiosity won the war against common sense, and I went to look for her as I abandoned my beer and slipped inside.
If I am going to protect her, I need to understand her patterns. Her hiding places. Her weaknesses.
The house swallowed me in cool dimness, a sharp contrast to the blazing warmth outside. My hearing still throbbed from Levi’s door-slam, but I pushed through the discomfort and stretched my senses. Past the kitchen. Past the living room. Up the stairs where the bedrooms were.
There. A thread of sound, thin as spider silk. Violet’s voice was low and urgent. I positioned myself at the bottom of the stairwell, close enough to listen but far enough to flee if she started heading back downstairs.
When I got a good feel for it, her voice cracked like a whip, frustration bleeding through the syllables. “Liam!” There was an urgency, a raw edge I had never heard before. “I don’t know what to do.”
Liam. Her older brother.
“I asked him for access to my trust, and he wanted to know what I was investing in. How did you ask him for your trust money for your coffee shop?”
Her voice was sharp and restless before she went silent, listening.
I knew I could reach for it, dial my hearing up until Liam’s voice became clear.
. . but it would cost me. The strain of increasing my hearing that much always left me half-blind with headaches later.
Instead, I stayed where I was at the bottom of the stairs and continued to listen to her side of the conversation.
Not that I needed to hear what Liam told her. I already had a good sense of how he would have asked for his trust money, and it involved a mission statement, financial projections, marketing research, and proposed risks. . . paperwork, projections, and adult responsibility.
None of which, I knew, were Violet’s strong suits.
“You wrote a business plan? Are you serious?” Her words tumbled down the staircase like broken glass. “That would take me weeks or even months to draft. I almost would rather strip.”
Heat coiled low in my belly. An inexplicable spike of anger and fear that snapped me to stand straight. For a pampered princess to go straight to stripping? She seemed desperate. Why did she need money so urgently?
My hands found the stair rail and gripped until my knuckles went white. A thousand scenarios flooded my mind, each one darker than the last. Debt collectors. Blackmail. Supernatural entities who had sold her irresistible temptations, and now the bill was due.
Had some supernatural already found her? Had I overheard the beginning of whatever web they planned to spin and trap her in?
Her voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty, Liam. How many times did I catch you with your dick in a groupie’s mouth after one of your shows? Not to mention your little run-in with drugs?”
Her words burned, full of fire. I had to bite back a chuckle despite my rising anxiety. She was fearless, or recklessly bold, and despite the fact that we didn’t like each other very much, I had to respect her tactical thinking. Violet might be spoiled, but she was not stupid.
Silence followed before her voice, harder now, said, “I will figure out the money. Even if I do end up stripping, you’d better keep that a secret between us.”
She ended the call with a curse, then there were footsteps announcing her descent. I moved fast, slipping into the kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge like I had just come in from outside.
When she appeared in the doorway, I let my eyes take inventory the way they always did.
Black jeans torn just enough to suggest rebellion, a cropped top revealing a strip of pale skin, hair twisted into a high knot that emphasized the sharp line of her jaw.
Minimal makeup except for her lips—stained a deep red, as if she had just been eating berries.
College suits her, I admitted begrudgingly to myself. I had been so adamant to Levi that she was simply my ward that I had failed to acknowledge much less respect her growth. The woman in front of me proved otherwise.
“Princess. I must say. . . you look ruffled.” I set my water down and leaned against the counter, projecting casual indifference while every nerve screamed alert.
She huffed and moved towards the fridge, close enough that I caught her scent—roses and rosemary, innocence and rebellion tangled together like warring perfumes.
When she opened the fridge door, her eyes found the empty space where my water bottle had been. The last one. I could not help the dark chuckle that escaped me.
“Are you looking for something?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed as she closed the fridge, then fixed on my unopened water with the intensity of a predator spotting prey. Hip cocked, arms crossed, every inch of her radiating controlled frustration.
“You going to drink that, Rowan?”
So polite. So careful. But I could see the storm building behind her hazel eyes, the same fire that had burned through her phone conversation. She wanted something—needed something—and I was in her way. Time to see what the princess is made of.
“I would not have pulled it out if I was not,” I replied, settling deeper against the opal quartz countertops.
She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath—something about me not pulling out much of anything—then stepped closer to reach the cabinet behind me.
I did not move.
She paused, teeth catching her plump lower lip as she calculated her options. She could ask nicely and hope I played gentleman. She could try to squeeze past, which would put us close enough to count heartbeats. Or she could find her backbone and make demands.
Pride versus necessity. Always an interesting battle to watch.
The scent of her shampoo drifted again between us as she hesitated, overwhelmingly sweet as I watched her body fight with the struggle of being cornered and not quite ready to surrender.
“Is there a problem, Violet?”
The question hung loaded between us like a cocked weapon, our turbulent history ever so clear as we eyed each other.
In that moment, I was offering her a choice: back down or step up.
Walk away or push back. And as always, she was ready to show me who she really was beneath all that privilege and polish.
“You’re insufferable, Rowan.”
“That is a big word for you, princess. I am overjoyed to see that college is paying off for you.” I glanced down at the small space between us. “Do you mind? You are standing uncomfortably close.” I shifted slightly towards her, letting her torn denim brush against mine.
She did not disappoint, meeting me with fire. “Yeah? You plan on moving your ass out of the way then?”
“Not when you ask so nicely.”
“You know, Rowan, sometimes I cannot stand you.” She spoke my name with a hint of dissatisfaction, those pearly teeth biting down on her lip to the point I thought she would bleed. Her heart jumped.
Such a feisty little thing. “That feeling is mutual. Although I believe common courtesy is not too much to expect from you. You simply have to ask nicely, Violet. Say, ‘Will you step to the side, please?’”
I was pushing her, waiting for her to snap, but she held steady—iron against stone, cold and reserved. Our game of chicken stretched between us, neither willing to yield.
“If you will not move, Rowan, then I will just get it my own way.”
“Suit yourself, princess.”
She drew a breath that lifted her chest, then stepped closer until her body pressed against mine in ways that sent heat spiraling through me.
Both arms reached around me, putting her dangerously close as she opened the cabinet door.
It swung wide and cracked me hard across the back of my skull, forcing me to duck with a sharp curse.
Our faces ended up inches apart.
Time slowed to an asphyxiated silence. Her eyes were not the simple hazel hue I had always thought—they were flecked with amber and gold, like honey-dewed grass caught in the light of sunrise.
With her eyes so close, I realized how pale she was.
Dark circles carved shadows beneath her lashes. She hasn’t been sleeping well, either.
My gaze drifted down, noting how her lips gleamed wet and full as her tongue darted out to trace her perfect cupid’s bow.
My jeans grew uncomfortably tight.
“You’re staring,” she said, her voice oddly hoarse.
I was not one to back down. By all the gods, I let my mouth curve into an inviting smirk and watched heat creep up her throat to stain her cheeks.
In my other life, I had been a rugged and scarred man with weathered lines.
In this life, I used my attractive youth when necessary to play a little dirty.
Why waste something gifted by the gods?
“So are you, princess.” I kept my voice low, deliberately rough.
I watched her struggle to form words, pupils dilating as she grabbed a glass and stepped away, clutching it to her chest like armor. I crossed my arms, trying to put distance between us and the heat radiating off her skin.
Just biology, I told myself. Just two bodies responding to proximity and adrenaline. I ignored the fact that I wanted to put that smart mouth of hers to better use.
Violet kept her eyes locked on mine as she filled the glass. She took several gulps, then pressed the glass back to her chest and began backing towards the door, refusing to give me her back.
What a fucking brat. I arched a brow. “You do not have eyes in the back of your head. Turn around and watch where you are going before you hurt yourself, princess.” Her heart fluttered like a caged bird, panic threading through the rhythm.
Eyes narrowing, she struck out once more. “You are going to regret taunting me.”
I shrugged. “And one day you will regret challenging me.” I nodded towards the door leading back to her family. “But today is not that day, Violet. Walk like a normal person and get back outside. I will see you in a bit.”
She glared at me with enough heat to melt steel, then turned and walked briskly towards the patio. When the last shadow of her disappeared, I let out a held breath.
A spoiled little princess indeed.