Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Violet
Dad used to say, whenever you let your guard down, Violet, people never fail to stab you in the back.
Since I didn’t want to live life with his warped cynicism—and he left Mom in such a cruel way—I’ve pretty much disregarded everything he said.
What would he know about navigating life’s trials and tribulations?
All he did was run at the first sign of danger.
Jumped off a sinking ship, leaving his wife and young daughters to drown.
But as I steamroll through the chrome-and-glass entrance, Knightwell Technology brandished above the doors like the seal of a dynasty; I have to admit—on this occasion—Dad was right.
I march through reception, the snap of my platform heels against the polished marble floors like the drumbeat of an advancing army—fitting, really, since I’m on the warpath.
I have been since Saturday morning at eleven a.m., when my boss, Sonny, from Velvet Longue, called to inform me that my services were no longer required.
Despite my repeated protests—and some good old-fashioned begging—I knew it was a lost cause.
He did, however, let slip that an extremely high-profile client had requested my removal.
No prizes for guessing who.
What the hell is wrong with this guy? He insists on driving me home, pretending he cares about my welfare. Chivalrously walking me to the door. Yet not forty minutes earlier, he was making damn sure I got the boot.
Why?
It’s the million-dollar question I’m about to get answered.
I thought that by Monday, my anger might have subsided. Instead, it’s ballooned to the point where I’m ready to pop.
I squeeze into the packed elevator, trying to regulate my erratic breathing as I select the option for the executive floor.
By the time I reach the top level, I’m the only one left—no surprise there.
Only a select few are allowed up here, and the rest?
They come by summons, not by choice. Catching my reflection in the mirrored wall, I smooth my hair down and brush an errant eyelash from my cheekbone.
Apart from looking mad as hell, everything else is in order.
I even dressed in black for the occasion.
I’m not sure if this will end up being his funeral or mine, but either way, there are things I need to get off my chest before I damn well explode.
The only upside to this mess? For once, I actually got to enjoy my weekend.
I made it to one of Gracie’s games with my favorite cheerleader, Seb, in tow.
But the problem is, I can’t afford to enjoy myself.
And thinking about the sheer amount of tips I lost this weekend?
It’s almost enough to bring me to tears.
Bethany is in her usual spot when I approach her desk.
“Good morning, Bethany,” I say, breezing past, striding straight for Chase’s door.
“Do you have an appointment, Violet?” She jumps to her feet, her eyes wide.
“Nope. Mr. Knight won’t mind,” I say, smiling sweetly as I fling open his door. She trots behind me, eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind. Chase stands by the window with his back to us, phone in hand, surveying New York City like a king, positioning his pawns.
He spins around, mid-call, one eyebrow lifted, smirking when he takes in my murderous expression.
Bethany mouths a silent sorry behind me, but he waves her away, putting up his thumb to show it’s okay.
I didn’t think it was possible to be any madder, but I forgot who I was dealing with.
He just cost me the job I was counting on to save for my sister’s college—and he finds it amusing.
Chase’s voice softens, smooth and confident, as he continues his call, one hand casually running through his hair.
“I see where you’re coming from. But trust me, this is a strategic play.
We’re not just going to keep up with the competition; we’re going to outpace them.
” He pauses, chuckling as if the thought amuses him.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders; I’ll give you that.
But let’s take it to the next level, yeah? ”
Why do I have to notice the way his shirt stretches across his broad back when he shifts, the muscles in his shoulders tensing under the fabric, and how his dark hair falls just slightly over his forehead?
The undeniable power in the way he carries himself.
His jawline sharpens as he speaks, the effortless confidence in his voice only adding to the appeal.
I curl my fingernails into my palms, fighting the irritating pull of attraction. He’s not even trying, but damn if he doesn’t make it hard not to notice everything about him—the way his eyes narrow when he focuses, the defined lines of his face, and the unwavering belief in his every move.
He finally exhales, turning to face me, those deep chocolate eyes pinning me to the spot.
“I’ve got to go now,” he says, voice velvety, dismissing them with ease.
“Something I’ve been meaning to deal with has just arrived on my desk.
” He flashes me a quick, almost teasing smile.
“No, nothing I can’t handle. In fact, it’s something I quite enjoy. ”
He ends the call, his mouth twitching with a smile like he knows I’m one breath away from bursting wide open.
“So help me, God,” I rant. “I’m about five seconds away from shoving that crystal paperweight up your ass...who even has such a pretentious paperweight on their desk?”
He points at the chair opposite his desk, his infuriatingly sexy lips suppressing a smirk, his tone firm. “Sit, Violet.”
“I’m not a dog.” I fold my arms, crossing my legs as I sit.
“Well, stop yapping like one, then.”
“I’ve hardly said a word.”
“You don’t need to. The way you bound in here uninvited.”
“How about the way you interfere in my life uninvited? Why would you get me fired from Velvet Lounge? Is it your new mission in life to fire me from as many positions as possible? Or were you mad you weren’t in my little notebook?”
He sits behind his desk, exhaling with frustration, silencing his phone as it rings out non-stop.
“Look, Violet, I’ve got about a million things I need to do today, so this will have to be brief.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize dismantling people’s lives was such an inconvenience to you.” It’s a low blow and one that hits the mark. Anger flashes in his eyes, his unshakeable control straining at the seams.
“If that’s some thinly veiled dig at the Braxton acquisition—or any other acquisition I’ve been involved in—I’ll say the same thing to you as I do to all the other bleeding hearts who don’t understand.
” His tone is measured, but there’s a sharpness beneath it.
“That company was mismanaged and hemorrhaging money. It would have gone bankrupt, leaving employees with nothing and investors at a total loss. Braxton was already sinking—I salvaged what mattered and gave it a new purpose. The tech assets we saved have created thousands of new jobs in the long run. But sure, if you need me to be the beast, I’ll wear the mask. It makes no difference to me.”
He barely pauses for breath, and I hate that I’m hanging on every word. I have to admit, he’s a sight to behold when he comes out fighting, conviction carved into every angle of his face. It feeds something dark and reckless in me. Something that shouldn’t crave his dominance but does, anyway.
“And here’s another thing,” he growls, pulling me out of my twisted fantasies.
“Elliot Hargreaves would love nothing more than to sink this company. If he knew you worked here, he’d never rest—he’d push you for any scrap of information he could get his hands on.
And in an environment like Velvet Lounge, where I conduct business with high-profile clients, it reflects badly on me if my employees have to take weekend jobs to get by.
” His expression hardens, and then he drops the bomb.
“But if you’d taken the time to go to your desk this morning instead of storming up here, you would have discovered that I doubled your salary. Which more than covers any shortfall.”
“You’ve doubled my salary?” I echo, eyes wide and blinking.
“Yes, Violet.” His phone vibrates against the antique oak of his desk, the persistent buzzing like an angry mosquito. He glances at it with irritation, snatching it by the hand.
“Thank you,” I say, my brain already jumping through the endless possibilities the extra cash will provide. A flicker of the tenderness I glimpsed on Friday night softens his gaze—but it’s gone in an instant, the shutters slamming back down.
“Are we done here, Violet? I need to take this call.”
“Yes, we’re done,” I say, rising to leave.
I want to tell him he should have spoken to me, that I deserved to know his plan instead of being steamrolled by it. But that’s not how he operates. He moves through life on his terms, and I need to know when to quit. I’ve already pushed him far enough today.
“Next time you want to see me, Violet, book an appointment like everyone else.” He picks up the call without waiting for a response, his “Yes?” clipped and impatient—a clear signal I’m dismissed.
Bethany is still eyeing me as if she needs to call the men in white coats when I step outside.
“You’re still alive, then?” she quips, shaking her head in disbelief.
I pretend to take my pulse, grinning. “Yep, just about hanging in there.”
“Do you know in all the years I’ve worked for him, anyone who dared to do what you just did would have been thrown out on the street.”
“Perhaps he’s mellowing.” I shrug.
“Nope, if only. You must be special,” she says, humor dancing in her eyes.
“Oh, pur-lease,” I say, turning towards the elevator. “A special kind of annoying, he’d probably say. But don’t worry, Bethany,” I wink. “I won’t do it again.”