Chapter 13 Chase
Chapter thirteen
Chase
“I should be an hour or two, tops,” I say as Albert steps back, holding the car door open for me.
“Of course, sir. I’ll be waiting in my usual spot.”
I stride toward Velvet Lounge, its sleek, black-paneled doors framed by a soft golden glow.
Two doormen flank the entrance. More than just bouncers, they’re built like linebackers, all broad shoulders and granite-like expressions, their suits straining over their bulk.
Their sharp gazes scan every guest, ensuring only the right people step inside.
I push through the entrance later than planned.
Today has been relentless—meetings stacked back-to-back, a business lunch with a potential cryptocurrency client, and my phone glued to my ear from sunrise to sunset.
Tonight, Richard Morgan, senior director at Monarch, invited Austen and me.
Even though I’d rather be punishing my exhaustion at the gym or shutting the world out at home, we couldn’t refuse.
The Monarch cybersecurity contract is within reach, but nothing is certain yet.
Inside, the place is heaving, a current of chatter and laughter rolling beneath the steady bass line humming from the speakers.
I move through the crush of bodies, the heat of too many people pressing in, luxury watches flashing under dim lighting as men clutch crystal tumblers, deep in conversation.
As I pass the bar, my gaze flicks there instinctively, half-expecting to see Violet.
Something tugs at my chest when I remember the night I sat, transfixed, watching her command the space, zipping between customers, juggling a million orders, her engaging smile never slipping.
I shake it off before the memory can take hold.
I can’t afford to be distracted. Not tonight.
If there’s one thing I know about Violet, it’s that she’s my kryptonite, and I have to be on my game if we’re going to secure this deal.
I spot the Monarch team gathered in a booth toward the back, Austen already seated among them, engaged in conversation. Pushing through the last knot of people, I slide into the open space beside him, offering a nod to the group just as Richard Morgan looks up.
“Chase, good to see you,” he says, extending a hand.
“You know Austen, of course. This is Mark Davis, our CFO, Clive Walter, head of legal, and Victor Lang, our regional director for Asia-Pacific.” A round of firm handshakes follows, murmured greetings exchanged just as Lacey sashays over.
I have to hand it to her, she knows how to work a room, her fitted red and black uniform drawing attention as she sets a tray of drinks down in front of us.
Her eyes flash to mine for a beat too long, her voice dipping low, “Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen; I’ll be over there if you need me. ”
She’s barely out of earshot when Richard gestures towards her. “Jesus, Chase. She can barely drag her eyes off you.” There’s a hint of envy in his tone as he watches her walk away with the kind of deliberate sway that guarantees her tips.
Austen smirks, but I just shake my head, half-amused. “She’s just doing her job.”
“Mmmm,” Richard says, clearly not convinced.
“Seems to me she wants to provide some extended service.” Laughter rolls around the table as Richard takes a long pull of his cigar, exhaling a ribbon of smoke, his eyes glued to Lacey’s ass.
He looks about four whiskeys in, perhaps five, meaning his usual measured restraint is loosened, providing us ample opportunity to dig for information.
I raise my glass, a slow smile curving my lips.
“Well, gentlemen, let’s drink to a promising partnership.”
The Monarch execs echo the toast, the clink of crystal ringing out.
“We’re looking forward to what you bring to the table,” Richard continues, loosening his tie, the alcohol coloring his cheeks.
“Though I have to admit, Elliot’s been making some bold promises, too.
He’s talking a big game about predictive modeling—adaptive anomaly detection, pattern recognition, the works. ”
Austen tenses for half a second before taking a long sip of his drink. The reaction is subtle, but I know him too well to miss it.
“No surprise,” I say smoothly. “Fraud detection is the endgame. Everyone’s got their own approach.”
Richard smirks. “Sure. But he made it sound like he’s already cracked something big. Like he’s got an inside track.”
Austen’s gaze sharpens, but he keeps his tone light. “That so? Interesting. We’ll have to see how it plays out.”
Richard waves a hand, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone knows he likes to drink, so it’s no real surprise, and it benefits us as it gives us an inside track.
“Hell, I don’t pretend to understand half the technical jargon,” he says. “That’s what our analysts are for. But some of the stuff he’s been throwing around sounded a hell of a lot like what we’ve been hearing from you guys.”
I let out a polite laugh, but a cold unease settles in my stomach. “Well, we’ll look forward to showing you at the executive retreat you’re hosting, why Knightwell is the right choice.”
“I hope you’re looking forward to the retreat?” Clive asks, cutting Richard off before he says more. “Should be a good one. The New Paltz Mountain Lodge has the right balance—secluded, but not too much like roughing it.”
I smirk. “You say that like Monarch execs wouldn’t survive a minor discomfort.”
That gets a chuckle. “We can handle it,” he says. “But we also like a decent bar at the end of the day.”
Austen shifts beside me, finally speaking up. “Should be an interesting few days. See how everyone stacks up outside a boardroom.”
Richard nods, his eyes glazed. “That executive retreat, though—not exactly my idea of fun. But you know how Ravenscroft loves to play Boy Scouts. Team-building, wilderness bonding, all that crap. Give me a golf course any day.”
The conversation drifts from business to golf—hardly a topic that interests me—but I nod along just enough to keep the mood light. My mind is elsewhere. On what, Richard let slip. On the way, Austen has barely spoken in the last five minutes, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the table.
Eventually, Richard and his team move on, leaving me and Austen alone.
“That wasn’t nothing,” Austen says, keeping his voice low.
I exhale, rolling the glass between my fingers. “No, it wasn’t.”
Austen sets his glass down, leaning in. “He described our approach. It’s too close to what we’ve been developing. Elliot shouldn’t know that.”
I nod, razoring my hand over my stubble. “Either Elliot’s a mind reader, or someone’s been running their mouth.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Austen says in his usual measured way. “Let’s just tread carefully.”
Before we can delve deeper, Lacey slides up to our table, grinning like she’s been waiting for this moment.
“Gentlemen, so there’s a rumor going around that Chase got Violet Harper fired. Any thoughts on that?”
Austen’s wide-eyed gaze shoots at me. I keep my expression unreadable. “That so?” I say.
Lacey’s eyes gleam. “Mm-hmm, the other theory is that Elliot kidnapped her, seeing as he was low-key obsessed with her.”
Austen lets out a dry laugh, but I don’t react. Not outwardly. Inside, something cold and sharp spikes through me. Any notion of Elliot and Violet tears at my sanity.
I lift a brow, tone dry. “Sounds like people have too much time on their hands.”
Lacey winks. “Hey, gossip keeps this place running.” She turns and saunters off, leaving the words hanging between us.
Austen studies me, waiting. “You going to tell me which theory is closer to the truth?”
I take my time, reaching for my glass. “Does it matter?”
He exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah, it does. When it involves one of our employees, one of our most talented employees.” He pauses, then frowns. “Also, since when did Violet work here?”
A flicker of irritation tightens my jaw.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, my grip on control slipping.
“She worked weekends to pay off some debts. I thought it looked bad for business, like Knightwell doesn’t pay its staff sufficiently.
So, I requested she be replaced and made sure she was compensated generously.
” I keep quiet about my other selfish reason.
The one that doesn’t want her getting pawed by horny and drunk guys. Especially Elliot.
Silence stretches between us before Austen’s lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “You’re into Violet.”
I scoff, shifting in my seat. “What? No.” My tie suddenly seems too tight.
“I’ve noticed it before,” he continues, his tone laced with something sharper now. “You’re different when she’s around.” His expression hardens. “But you realize it’d be insanity, right?”
“Of course,” I clip. “I’m not an idiot. It would never work.” The words feel like ash in my mouth, so I drown them with another drink, ignoring the hollow ache in my chest.
Austen watches me for a beat, then sighs.
“I get it, Chase. She’s smart—seriously smart.
And she doesn’t even realize it. She’s beautiful too, though different from the women you usually go for.
” His voice dips, turning almost cautious.
“But she’s not cut out for your world. If you risk a fling, we’ll lose her.
Things will get messy. Just—” He exhales. “Leave her be. For her sake.”
Something in me bristles, but I push to my feet, shrugging on my coat. “I’m heading out,” I mutter. “It’s been a long day.”
Austen lifts his hands in surrender, sensing he’s pushed far enough. “Yeah, I need to go too.”
I pause at the door, shifting the focus. “Keep an eye on the Monarch deal. If anything seems off, I want to know.”
“Of course.” His eyes follow me, still wary, as we step outside.
Albert is already waiting by the car. Without another word, I slide into the backseat, releasing a slow breath only when the door slams shut, finally encasing me in solitude.
Austen’s words ring in my ears for the journey home.
She doesn’t belong in your world. Leave her be.
Hell, I know he’s right. It’s the exact conversation I’ve been having with myself every day since I met her.
But then, I see her, and all my good intentions evaporate into dust. The control I pride myself on—shattered by just one of her smiles.
And it’s not just the insane chemistry that makes us lose our minds when we give in to it.
There’s more. She intrigues me to a level bordering on obsession, like I want to find out every little thing about her.
What makes her tick. Every time I see that radiant smile, I want to be the one who put it there.
By the time we’re rolling up to my apartment in Central Park South, it’s late.
Exhausted, I flick on the apartment lights, shrugging off my jacket.
I pull off my tie and unbutton my shirt, heading straight to the bar to fix myself a nightcap.
I slump onto the couch, staring at the stunning view of Central Park at night.
But as usual, my mind wanders to Violet.
I haven’t seen her since the Masquerade Ball.
As soon as I could sneak out of the bathroom, I tried to find her, but she was gone.
She’s avoiding me for sure, always holding herself back.
And yet, the more she tries to pull away, the more I feel the urge to pull her right back.
With a yawn, I pad through to my ensuite, switching on the shower, throwing off my clothes. The hot steam clings to every aching muscle, uncurling the tension of the day. How the hell I kept a straight face and told Austen me and Violet would never work.
Oh, we work alright.
I can still hear her needy moans as she came over my tongue.
No person on this earth has ever made me feel as weak as she does.
Already, I’m missing the taste and touch of her.
My cock does too. Every time it dwells on that night, it’s rock-hard and ready to go.
I fist myself with a groan, picturing my tongue feasting on her.
How her thighs quivered around my face. The feel of her taut nipples, those full breasts bouncing as she rode my tongue like she was in heat.
My little hellion, all fire, passion, and sweetness.
I brace one arm against the tiles, my other making hard and frantic strokes.
My head drops back with a tortured groan as I pump out my release.
Fuck.
I don’t think I’m strong enough to stay away.
But I need to decide. Because where Violet is concerned, there’s no half-measure. It’s all in or bust.
Problem is, I don’t know if I’ve got the heart for the game.