Chapter Six
Violet
The scent of buttery pancakes and fresh coffee filled the small kitchen, the morning light streaming in through the sheer curtains. Violet flipped the last pancake onto Riley’s plate, watching as her daughter kicked her legs happily beneath the table, drowning her stack in syrup.
“Careful, kiddo,” Violet warned, arching a brow. “That’s mostly sugar.”
Riley grinned up at her, unapologetic. “I know.”
Violet sighed, shaking her head, but there was a fondness in her chest she couldn’t suppress.
Mornings like these felt rare and precious.
After the chaos of work, the late nights, and the constant weight of responsibility, there was something about standing here, in their quiet little apartment, watching Riley eat breakfast that made her feel at peace.
A feeling that was fleeting. Because all too soon, she’d be diving back into the nightmare of tracking down Damien Voss, playing a dangerous game with a man who took children and sold them like they were products on a shelf. She inhaled deeply, shoving that thought aside for now.
“Are you excited to see Grandma tomorrow?” she asked, taking a sip of coffee.
Riley nodded enthusiastically. “Grandma said we could go to the aquarium! And she says if I’m good, after we can to go the coast and watch for dolphins!”
Violet smiled softly, running a hand through Riley’s messy waves. Her daughter had been obsessed with dolphins for as long as she could remember. Which, considering her own shifter nature, made sense.
“That sounds like fun,” Violet murmured, forcing her voice to stay light, ignoring the tiny ache in her chest.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed from the counter. Violet grabbed it, expecting a call from her mom. Instead, Arlo’s name flashed across the screen. Violet’s stomach flipped traitorously. She ignored Riley’s curious gaze and answered the call, bringing the phone to her ear.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you this early,” she said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.
A low chuckle rumbled through the receiver, smooth as sin. “Miss me already, sweetheart?”
Violet closed her eyes for half a second. Of course, he’d start with that.
“Not even remotely,” she lied, getting up and walking into Riley’s bedroom to pick out her clothes while she talked.
Arlo made a sound like he didn’t believe her for a second. “Meet me for coffee.”
It wasn’t a question.
She bristled. “You do realize normal people ask instead of demand, right?”
Another amused chuckle. “Meet me for coffee, please?”
Violet exhaled, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Why?”
“Because we have a lot to go over before the auction.” His voice dipped just enough to send a shiver down her spine. “And because I want to see you again.”
Violet’s fingers tightened around the phone. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want to sit across from him, watch his toothy grin stretch wide, listen to his low, lazy drawl while pretending it didn’t make her insides twist. She should tell him no.
Instead, she muttered, “Fine.”
“Good girl,” he drawled. “I’ll text you the place.”
He hung up on her before she could change her mind.
The café was quieter than she expected. No shady underground meet-up.
Just fresh-baked pastries, steaming mugs of latte, and the soft murmur of morning conversations.
Violet glanced around, spotting Arlo in the back corner, already nursing a cup of coffee.
She stopped short. Because he was leaning back against the booth, looking as unbothered as ever, dressed in a simple dark t-shirt and jeans.
He looked good. Too good. And judging by the slow smirk curling his lips, he knew it.
Violet ignored the heat in her face and slid into the booth across from him.
“You know,” she said, setting her purse down. “I fully expected to meet you in some hole-in-the-wall bar.”
Arlo sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m unpredictable like that.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny that it threw her off. Because she really had expected something different. Despite the lunchtime hour, she’d expected a dark bar in some shadowed corner of Miami. But instead, he’d chosen a place that felt… normal.
“Let’s get to it,” she said, pulling out her notebook, trying to ground herself in facts and strategy. “We need to figure out our cover for the auction.”
Arlo leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “That’s easy. We’re a couple enjoying a night out together on a yacht.”
Violet arched a brow. “Excuse me?”
Arlo grinned. “You think Voss is gonna let some random people wander onto his yacht? No. But a filthy rich businessman with his beautiful totally in love girlfriend? Different story.”
Violet rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her dolphin preened at the way he’d called her beautiful.
“And you’re playing the rich businessman, I assume?”
Arlo took another long sip of coffee, eyes gleaming over the rim. “I’ll be going as my brother. The invitation is in his name. I’ve borrowed his I.D in case we’re asked to show it when we board.”
She exhaled slowly. “And you expect me to what? Giggle and bat my lashes at you?”
Arlo’s grin widened. “I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”
Violet closed her eyes for a second.
This man is insufferable.
But he had a point. If they acted stiff or awkward, it would raise suspicion. She hated that he was right.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll play the doting girlfriend.”
They went over the rest of the details, and Arlo told her about the CIA team he worked with.
It sounded as if they were more than just colleagues, they were friends.
Violet didn’t really have anyone like that who she worked with at the FBI, and she supposed that was mostly her fault.
She used to get invited to all kinds of things in the beginning, but then she got custody of Riley and her priorities had shifted.
She tried to shake the thought from her mind.
“Are you always this serious?” Arlo asked suddenly, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I know how important this is, but you’re always in your head. Always thinking five steps ahead. What do you do when you’re not playing FBI badass? How do you relax?”
The question caught her off guard. Violet hesitated, lifting her coffee to her lips to buy herself a second. Because she wasn’t used to being asked about herself. Her life had been her job for so long that she sometimes forgot there was anything else.
“Well,” she said carefully, “I do normal things. Go for a run. Hang out at the beach. Occasionally I watch something mindless on TV when I remember to turn it on.”
Arlo raised a brow. “That’s it?”
She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? What should I be doing?”
He grinned, but there was something sharper behind it. “I don’t know. I figured you had at least one actual hobby. Painting? Gardening? Secret underground fight club?”
She snorted. “Yeah, I get in the ring every Thursday.”
“Now that,” he mused, “I’d pay to see.”
Violet shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Damn him.
She sighed, rolling her coffee cup between her palms. “I used to play the piano.”
Arlo stilled. “Yeah?”
She shrugged. “I took lessons all through high school. I was actually pretty good. I used to love it.”
His gaze sharpened slightly. “Why’d you stop?”
Violet hesitated, then exhaled. “Life happened I guess.”
She’d joined the FBI. Her sister had died.
Riley had needed her. And suddenly, she’d had zero time for things like music or hobbies.
But she didn’t say that. Because it was too personal and she was afraid that if she opened up to Arlo and shared even more of her life with him, it would be even harder to walk away.
She turned the conversation back to safer territory. “What about you?”
He smirked, lifting his coffee. “I don’t play the piano.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
Arlo set his cup down, running a hand through his dark hair, his expression shifting just slightly.
It was the first time she’d seen him serious.
“Well, you know I used to be a cop,” he said finally.
She nodded. “Before the CIA?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table. “I worked for Miami PD for a few years, but it wasn’t exactly a great fit.”
That surprised her. “Why not?”
Arlo huffed a laugh. “Because I don’t do well with red tape. I don’t like sitting on my hands when there’s a job to be done.”
Violet understood that too well. But she also sensed there was more to the story.
“And yet, you still ended up in law enforcement,” she mused. “Why?”
Arlo’s jaw tensed slightly.
Then, finally, he said, “Because someone has to take out the trash.”
Then he leaned forward, just slightly, his voice dropping low. “You’re fighting this too hard, you know that?”
Violet blinked. “Fighting what?”
“The bond.”
Her stomach tightened. “This isn’t about the mate bond.”
Arlo studied her, long and slow. And for the first time, his amusement faded.
“Isn’t it?” he murmured.
Violet’s throat went dry.
Because she didn’t have an answer to that. Or at least, not one she was ready to admit. So instead, she grabbed her purse and stood.
“This was productive,” she said briskly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She turned to leave. But Arlo’s voice stopped her cold.
“I meant what I said yesterday.”
Violet hesitated. Slowly, she turned back, her heart hammering against her ribs. Arlo’s gaze burned into hers, dark and unwavering.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice low, certain. “Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”
Violet’s breath caught. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. So instead, she turned and walked away. Because she didn’t know what to say. And that was the most terrifying part of all.