Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
VIOLET
Iwake up slowly, my body deliciously sore in ways I've never experienced before.
Santiago's arm is wrapped around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, and his steady breathing tells me he's still asleep.
For a moment, I just lie there, savoring the weight of him against me, the safety I feel in his arms.
Then reality crashes over me.
I'm supposed to be at work today. My face still bears the evidence of Derek's punch. I have no clean clothes except what Savannah picked out for me yesterday, and Derek is out there somewhere, stalking us, making threats.
"Morning," Santiago's voice is rough with sleep, his lips brushing the back of my neck.
"Morning," I whisper back, not wanting to move and break this perfect moment.
His hand splays across my stomach, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," I admit, then quickly add, "but a good sore. Really good."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. "First time doing anything like that?"
"Yeah." I turn in his arms to face him. His hair is messed up, there's stubble covering his jaw, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. He's never looked more handsome. "Was it... was I okay?"
His expression grows serious. "Vi, you were incredible. More than okay. You were perfect."
Heat spreads through me at his words, but it's quickly replaced by anxiety as my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I lean over Santiago to check it, and my stomach drops when I see the time.
"Shit, I'm supposed to be at work in two hours," I mutter, sitting up and immediately missing the warmth of his body.
"You're not going in today," Santiago says firmly.
I look at him, kind of surprised. "What? I can't just not show up. I have responsibilities, projects that need—"
"Violet." His voice has that commanding tone that makes my stomach flutter, but I push down the reaction. This is about my job, my life.
"I know you're trying to protect me, but I can't just disappear from work indefinitely. I have a career, Santiago. One I've worked really hard for."
He sits up, running a hand through his hair. "Look at your face, baby. You think you can walk into that office looking like that without everyone asking questions?"
I get up and walk to his bathroom mirror, really looking at myself for the first time since yesterday. The bruise has darkened overnight, a sickly purple-yellow that makeup can only do so much to cover. The swelling has gone down, but it's still obvious that someone hit me.
My throat tightens as I imagine walking into Season like this. The stares, the whispers that would start when I enter a room. Jessie's concerned questions. And God, if Victorio saw me like this...
"I can't go in looking like this," I mumble to myself.
He appears behind me in the mirror, his hands settling on my shoulders. "So don't."
"But what do I tell them? I can't just say I'm sick. What if this takes weeks to heal completely? What if Derek... what if he escalates and I can't go back for even longer?"
The thought of Derek showing up at my workplace makes my blood run cold. He knows where I work. What if he decides to confront me there? What if he hurts my coworkers?
"Baby, breathe," Santiago says, noticing how freaked out I am. "We're going to handle Derek. But right now, you need to take care of yourself first."
I lean back against him, drawing strength from his presence. "I've worked so hard to build my reputation at Season. I don't want them to see me as... as a victim. As someone who gets hit by her boyfriend. That's not who I am there."
"That's not who you are anywhere," Santiago says fiercely. "What Derek did to you doesn't define you."
"I know that," I say, turning in his arms. "But other people don't always see it that way. They see a woman with a black eye and they make assumptions. They pity you, or worse, they blame you. They wonder what you did to deserve it."
Santiago's jaw tightens. "Anyone who thinks that way isn't worth your time."
"Maybe not, but these are people I work with every day. And Victorio..." I trail off, not ready to explain that particular complication.
"What about your boss?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. Just... he's very image-conscious. The whole company is. We represent a lifestyle brand, and showing up looking like I've been in a fight doesn't exactly fit that image."
It's a partial truth. The reality is more complicated—that Victorio might be my father, that I've been planning to tell him on my birthday next week, that seeing me bruised and battered might completely change how that conversation goes.
Santiago studies my face, and I wonder if he can see through my deflections.. "Okay. So you call in. Say you have a family emergency or something. Buy yourself a few days to let the worst of the bruising fade."
"A few days might not be enough."
"Then we'll figure it out. One day at a time." He cups my face gently, thumb tracing my uninjured cheek. "Right now, you need to focus on healing. Physically and emotionally."
I nod, knowing he's right but still feeling anxious about it. "I should call soon. Before my boss gets in."
"Good idea. I'll make coffee while you handle that."
Santiago kisses my forehead and heads toward the kitchen, giving me privacy for the call. I sit on the edge of his bed, wrapped in his sheet, and dial my work number.
"Season Magazine, this is Rebecca."
"Hi Rebecca, it's Violet. I need to speak with Jennifer in HR, please."
"Oh, hi Violet! Hold on, let me transfer you."
My heart pounds as I wait on hold. Jennifer is the HR manager, a no-nonsense woman in her fifties who I've only interacted with during my hiring process and annual reviews.
"Violet? This is Jennifer. What can I do for you?"
"Hi Jennifer. I'm calling because I won't be able to come in today. I've had a... a family emergency come up."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Is everything all right?"
I close my eyes, hating that I have to lie. "It's complicated. I may need a few days to sort things out. I know this is short notice, and I'm sorry about that."
"How many days are we talking about?"
"I'm not sure yet. Hopefully just until the end of the week, but it could be longer depending on how things develop."
There's a pause. "Violet, you've been with us for over a year and you've never called in sick or taken an unscheduled day off. If you say you need time, then you need time. Do you have any urgent projects that need to be reassigned?"
Relief floods through me. "The autumn campaign posts are scheduled through next week, and I finished the influencer outreach summary yesterday. Jessie can handle any urgent social media issues if they come up."
"Okay. Take care of whatever's going on, and keep me posted on when you think you'll be back. And Violet? If you need to talk to someone—we have an employee assistance program that offers counseling services. Completely confidential."
My throat tightens. "Thank you. I'll... I'll keep that in mind."
After hanging up, I sit in silence for a few moments. The fact that Jennifer immediately offered counseling services makes me wonder if she somehow knows what kind of "family emergency" I'm dealing with. Maybe I'm not the first employee to call in after domestic violence.
"How did it go?" Santiago asks from the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee.
"Better than expected. My boss was understanding." I accept the coffee gratefully, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "She even offered counseling services."
"Smart woman." Santiago sits beside me on the bed. "You should consider it."
I look at him in surprise. "You think I need therapy?"
"I think what Derek did to you was traumatic, and talking to someone about it might help you process everything. There's no shame in getting help, Vi."
The gentle way he says it makes tears prick at my eyes. "I just... I don't want to be defined by what he did to me. I don't want to be 'that girl' who got hit by her boyfriend."
"You're not. You're the woman who had the strength to leave him, who ripped up his prized Pokémon card on the way out, who came to me asking for help instead of hiding in shame. You're a fighter, Violet."
His words warm something inside me that I didn't even realize had gone cold. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For seeing me as strong instead of broken."
Santiago sets his coffee aside and pulls me into his arms. "You are strong. What happened to you doesn't change that."
We sit like that for a while, just holding each other as the morning light grows stronger outside his windows. Eventually, Santiago's phone buzzes, and I reluctantly let him check it.
"Club shit," he says, reading the message. "I need to go handle some things before the meeting this afternoon."
"The meeting about Derek?"
His expression grows serious. "Among other things. Vi, I want you to stay here today. Don't go anywhere without calling me first."
"Am I a prisoner now?" I ask, only half-joking.
"You're under my protection. There's a difference." He stands and starts pulling clothes from his dresser. "I'm going to have one of my brothers come by to check on you. Probably Cruel."
"I like Cruel."
Santiago pauses in his dressing to look at me with amusement. "Yeah, you two seemed to hit it off yesterday. Just remember he's dangerous, Vi. They all are. Don't let their charm fool you into thinking otherwise."
"Are you jealous?" I tease.
"Of Cruel? Nah. He's like a brother to me." Santiago pulls on a black t-shirt. "But I am possessive of what's mine."
The casual way he claims me should bother me, but instead it sends heat pooling low in my stomach. "And what am I, exactly?"
He crosses to me, leaning down to brace his hands on either side of my legs. "You're mine, Violet. In every way that matters."
Before I can respond, he's kissing me, deep and claiming. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
"I need to go," he says, voice rough. "But tonight, when I get back, we're going to continue what we started."