Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Chase
Six months later
“I said you could have one dance, Richard, not front a whole new season of Dancing with the Stars.”
I know I’m a possessive bastard, but Richard Morgan has held Violet captive on the dancefloor for the best part of thirty minutes, and the man has the rhythm of a wind-up toy.
“How do you put up with him, Violet?” Richard aims a smirk at me, but his eyes stay glued on her.
“Oh, he has his moments,” Violet winks, twirling one more time.
“I can always arrange for you to be shoved back in that tunnel if you prefer, Richard,” I drawl, flashing my best Wall Street smile. Civil, polished—utterly laced with threat.
I try my hardest to rein in my caveman tendencies around Violet, but there’s only so much I can bear of another man’s hands on her before my irritation levels max out.
Richard chuckles, not the least bit fazed. He offers me Violet’s hand like he’s handing over a duchess, all mock elegance. “Well, you know what they say... did the night even happen unless Chase Knight threatened someone?”
I raise a brow. “Some traditions deserve to be kept alive.”
His eyes narrow just a little, but the smug grin stays, his attention shifting back to Violet. “It was lovely to see you, Violet,” he gushes. “You’ve got my contact now. Let’s set up a lunch between Monarch and Nexora sometime.”
Christ, now he’s just trolling me, and judging by the glint in his eye, enjoying every second.
“Of course, my pleasure,” Violet replies with a polite smile, threading her fingers through mine. Just that small spark of contact is enough to quiet my heart.
Violet looks up at me, pressing her fingertips into my chest. “Shall we sit down for a while? My new shoes are killing me.” She steers me away from the dancefloor, weaving through the throngs of people.
I follow like I always do. I’d follow her to the brink of destruction if she said the view was nice.
Yep, this woman has my goddamn balls on speed dial, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
We wander for a bit, slipping past well-dressed guests sipping champagne and laughing in small clusters. The band plays a jazzed-up cover of something from the ‘80s, and couples sway on the outdoor dance floor laid over the grass, heels kicked off, and ties loosened.
Eventually, we find a quiet spot near a low stone wall that backs onto the tree line, far enough from the band that we can talk without shouting.
I drop into one of the vintage wrought-iron chairs and tug Violet onto my lap. My arm drapes around her waist, fingers brushing that sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist. She shivers and leans in closer as I sweep her hair aside to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder.
She sighs, adjusting herself in my lap, the soft pressure making me groan under my breath.
“This is such a beautiful spot for a wedding,” she murmurs, her gaze sweeping across the view. “It’s like a fairytale.”
My gaze follows hers, drifting toward the horizon.
The Victorian castle in New Paltz that Fergus selected for his fourth wedding sits nestled in the Shawangunk Mountains, its ivy-clad turrets and golden stone glowing in the dusk-drenched sky.
Around us, the reception spills across the manicured grounds.
Tables draped in white linen are scattered beneath ancient oaks.
The outdoor dance floor hums beneath a canopy of twinkling string lights, their glow catching the swirl of movement.
But the real showstopper is the dragon ice sculpture—which, let’s face it, probably has a longer shelf life than most of Fergus’ marriages.
It’s ridiculous, over-the-top—exactly like Fergus.
“I hope he signed a prenup,” I muse as I spot Fergus’ new bride berating one of the waiting staff in what must be her third outfit change of the day. I mean, who has three wedding dresses?
“At this rate,” I continue. “Fergus will be working until he’s eighty-five to fund all his divorces.”
“Chase!” Violet gives me a look, but her mouth twitches like she’s holding back a laugh.
“Oh, come on,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “When the minister said ‘you may kiss the bride,’ she looked about as enthusiastic as if he suggested keyhole surgery.”
“Well, Fergus was definitely into it,” she adds, scrambling for a positive.
“Yeah, I thought we’d need a crowbar to get his tongue out of her throat.”
This time, her laugh breaks free. It vibrates softly against my chest as I pull her closer, kissing her neck, just breathing her in.
The moment shatters with a sharp ping from her clutch. Violet groans, leaning forward to fish out her phone. Martin’s name flashes on the screen—again.
“Does Martin realize he can store more than one name in his contacts?” I grumble.
“He’s just making sure everything’s running smoothly with the New York branch,” she says, slipping the phone back into her bag.
“It’s been open three months now,” I add. “I think he can relax.”
Three months of bliss since she moved back to run Nexora’s new Manhattan office. Three months of waking up to her. Of having her in my city, in my bed, full-time. The three months of back-and-forth between London and New York make our time together now all the sweeter.
“We’re planning a client event,” she continues, “just finalizing the guest list.”
I rest my chin on her shoulder. “I assume I’m on the list.”
“Erm, well... we thought you might steal the limelight.”
I narrow my eyes. She tries to play it cool, but I can see the faint twitch at the corners of her lips. I reach up, cupping her jaw and tilting her head toward me. “I hope you’re joking, Violet.”
“You’re too easy to tease,” she grins, her breath catching slightly when my teeth graze the shell of her ear.
“It’s a good thing you like to be punished,” I murmur, fingers tightening around her waist, the urge to drag her back to our hotel suite already thick in my blood.
Before my thoughts drift to the gutter, small, sticky fingers, tiny nails painted pastel blue, tap my knee, forcing me to peel myself off Violet.
“Uncle Chase.” I look down to see Lillie’s adorable face staring up at me. She’s wearing her new Elsa dress, the one Violet helped me pick out. Because, apparently, now I’m the kind of man who goes to the Disney store on the weekends.
“Queen Elsa,” I say, solemn as a knight.
She giggles. “No, silly. It’s me, Lillie.”
I feign shock. “Oh, wow, Lillie, are you sure?”
She leans in, whisper-serious. “Is Violet busy right now?”
Violet leans forward, intrigued. “Why, what’s up, Lillie?”
Lillie shuffles on her feet, cheeks flushing pink. “Do you wanna come to the bounce house with me?”
“I would love to, Lillie.” Violet lights up, holding her hand out. Lillie snatches it instantly, tugging her with delighted urgency.
“Hey, what about me?” I call after them.
“D’uh, you’re too old for the bounce house, Uncle Chase,” Lillie shouts over her shoulder with a dramatic eye-roll.
Violet turns back with a wicked grin, poking her tongue out at me. I’m so going to enjoy teaching her a lesson later.
I watch them walk away, my heart climbing into my throat. Violet’s too beautiful in that lilac lace dress—tight at the bodice, soft at the waist. Her back is bare, her skin glowing in the golden light, and I can’t stop picturing my mouth on it. It’s ridiculous how in love I am with her.
A chair scrapes beside me, and Austen drops into it, holding out a beer for me.
“Where are they headed?” he says, his gaze following mine.
“Bounce house,” I mutter, taking a swig. “Apparently, I’m too old.”
Austen chuckles, popping the cap on his beer, taking a long pull. “Sounds about right. Lillie has a sharp tongue, a bit like someone else I know.”
“Really, I can’t imagine who,” I say, deadpan.
Austen stretches out in a yawn, a slight smirk pulling his lips. “I heard Elliot surfaced in Panama. Apparently, he was trying to sell some dodgy import business but ended up on the wrong side of someone powerful.”
“Sounds about right,” I drawl, rolling the bottle between my fingers. “And there was me, hoping he’d take up something a bit more... thrilling. Maybe join a circus or something.”
Austen smiles, amusement lingering in his eyes before shifting into something more serious. “So, you still haven’t asked her?”
I arch a brow. “That obvious?”
“My wife says you’ve got a ring that could bankroll a small nation.”
“I’m waiting for the right moment.”
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Of course not,” I grunt.
It’s a lie. I’m fucking terrified. Not because I don’t know what I want, but because I’ve never wanted anything this bad before.
I sigh, eyes drifting back to the bounce house just in time to see Seb launch himself in like a rocket and land flat on his back.
Violet throws her head back, laughing, while Lillie and her hoist Seb to his feet.
Something explodes in my chest as I watch her.
Her face lit up, her hair tumbling over her shoulders like spun gold.
And that’s it.
My body moves before I think. I’m already on my feet, cutting through the crowd, the decision made.
“Can you take Lillie?” I call over my shoulder, my voice thick with something that feels too close to panic.
Austen’s eyes flash with understanding, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
I stride across the lawn, dodging a rogue balloon and half a dozen sugar-high kids, my focus locked on the lilac dress bouncing in time with Violet’s laugh.
“Violet,” I say as I reach the edge of the bounce house.
She turns, still laughing, her cheeks flushed. “You’re not about to bounce, are you?”
“I need to take you somewhere,” I say, low and serious.
Her brows lift, amusement fading into confusion. “Right now?”
I nod once. “Yeah. Right now.”
She glances at Lillie and Seb before hopping down. “Is everything okay?”
“It will be.” I grab her hand and don’t let go.
As I lead her to my car, my mind races. I have no idea where I’m taking her yet. But as I walk, the thought suddenly hits me—we’re in New Paltz, and I know exactly where to go. I know the place.
“Where are we going?” she asks for the third time as we hit the gravel lot. “Chase, what’s going on?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say, smirking as I open the passenger door for her. “Just get in the car.”
The engine growls to life, and I take off toward the winding mountain roads.
The sun has long dipped behind the ridge, and the sky is a deep velvet, with stars just beginning to show.
Narrow roads twist and climb, and Violet shifts in her seat, her dress riding up slightly as she adjusts herself against the curves of the road.
“Is this where you murder me?” she deadpans.
“I thought I’d wait till after dessert,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road.
Her laugh cuts through the quiet, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. Not yet.
“Relax, I told you, it’s a surprise.”
She groans but leans her head back, eyes narrowed at the ceiling. “Are we nearly there? You’re driving like we’re being chased.”
“I am being chased. By a thought, I can’t get out of my head.”
That shuts her up for a beat.
When we pull into the familiar driveway of the New Paltz retreat, she straightens instantly. Her voice is soft, almost surprised. “Oh. This is the place we first...”
“First, what, Violet?” I ask, glancing at her with a grin that betrays exactly what I’m thinking.
She rolls her eyes, fighting a smile as I park. I’m already out of the car, circling to her side, grabbing her hand, and marching her across the dimly lit courtyard toward reception.
The front desk attendant smiles at us as I stop at the counter. “Is Lodge 1881 available tonight?”
He checks and nods. “Yes, sir. It’s all yours.”
I don’t even wait for the key to warm in my hand before I scoop Violet up, bridal style.
“Chase!” she shrieks, laughing. “Put me down!”
“Nope.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
She clutches my neck, still breathless with laughter, as I carry her down the winding path. I’m aware of every thud of my heart, every pulse in my wrist. By the time I reach the porch of the lodge, I can’t wait a second longer.
I set her down, and the second her feet touch the wooden planks, I press her into the door, my body against hers, my lips on hers.
The kiss is hard, deep, urgent. Every beat of my heart is louder than the last. I pull back just enough, my forehead resting against hers, and breathe the words against her lips. “Marry me, Violet Harper?”
Her smile falters, eyes going wide.
I reach into my pocket and drop to my knee, pulling out the ring. The diamond catches the dim moonlight, bold and brilliant, just like I know she deserves.
“I’ve been carrying this around like an idiot for a few weeks, waiting for the right moment. But there’s no right moment. I just know. I want you. For the rest of my life.”
She nods furiously; tears welling up. “Yes,” she chokes out, laughing through her tears.
I know she’s happy, but there’s a heaviness in her I’ve seen before. Like the way she holds herself at Gracie’s soccer games, in those moments when she’s smiling, but there’s something else behind it. The weight of grief that still hangs over her, no matter how many good things happen.
I stand, sliding the ring onto her finger, and gently brush the tears from her cheek with my thumb. “I hope those are happy tears.”
“They are,” she says, voice hoarse. “I was just thinking about mom. How I wish she was still around to share this. She would have loved you.”
My chest tightens. I kiss her knuckles, holding her hand in mine. “I know, and I’ll make a promise to her I’ll look after you for the rest of my life, and I’ll love you enough for both of us.”
Tears spill down her face, but her smile cuts through it all, shaky and beautiful.
I lift her chin, a hint of amusement flickering in my eyes. “I spoke to Gracie to ask her if it was okay. There was no one else to ask.”
Violet’s eyes widen. “You asked Gracie?”
“Yeah,” I grin, “She said it was fine—as long as I provide a lifetime supply of fried chicken.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You really are crazy.”
I pull her close again, my lips brushing her hair. “And you said yes. So, what does that make you?”
“Yours,” she whispers.
“Damn right.”
The End
Thank you for reading The Beast of Brooklyn. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review or a rating. Your support means the world to me and helps others discover the story!
Marie x