Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Max lay in bed going over the evening’s events while Violet secured the bungalow.
He thought it had gone pretty well. The speeches had been short, the food good, and most everyone had braved the stage to sing their favorite songs.
The teens had worked their way through every K-pop song they knew before their father had forced them back to their seats so he could take the mic.
He'd then sang the weirdest Scottish song Max had ever heard, called Donald Where's Yer Troosers.
Even Max had taken a turn, murdering two songs from Canada's most famous singers, one from each, before handing the mic to Violet's sister.
There had been lots of laughter and, for a few minutes, he'd almost forgotten why he was on the island in the first place.
Almost.
It would take more than a fun evening with good people to make him forget about Damien Poole. There was nothing he wanted more than to see his smug face behind bars for good. Nothing.
He heard Violet walk through the bungalow and forced himself to think about more pleasant things. Like his beautiful and deadly bodyguard. There would be time enough tomorrow to focus on Damien.
"I like your family," he told her as she turned off the lights and climbed into her side of the bed. At least they'd avoided a fight about where she should sleep. That was progress.
"They seem to like you too," Violet said, sounding mystified.
He tried hard not to take offense. "You should have sung something. It was fun."
"I don't sing," came the implacable reply, shutting down anything else he might have said on the subject.
They lay in silence for a while, not touching, a no-man's land between them by silent mutual agreement.
"I'm sure my gran knows the wedding is fake," Violet said at last. "I think she's challenging me to come clean and tell everybody before we're forced to go through with it."
"What will she do if you don't?"
Violet made an irritated huffing sound. "Who knows? She's fearless and unpredictable."
Just like you.
"I'd try to contain her," Violet continued, clearly disgusted.
"But I'm not sure I can. The problem is, she has age on her side.
How do you fight a woman in her eighties?
I can't physically stop her from doing anything because she has fragile bones.
And I can't tie her up and put her somewhere until everything is over because the rest of my family would notice she was missing. "
Max desperately wanted to laugh but knew it wouldn't be appreciated. "Have you thought about talking to her? Explaining everything and throwing yourself on her mercy?"
"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "That isn't how Lian works.
She's the master of the mind game. Right now, she's letting me know she knows without coming right out and saying anything.
If I challenge her, she'll feign ignorance, which will give her the upper hand and make me look stupid.
No, I'm locked in a game of chicken and all I can do is hope she swerves first."
Max was grinning so widely his face hurt.
He hoped his amusement didn't come across in his voice because Violet was deadly serious.
"Then all we can do is carry on as planned and hope she doesn't blow our cover," he said, sounding a little strangled.
He found it hard to believe Violet's own grandmother would ruin her wedding on a hunch.
Violet turned to face him in the darkness. "Are you laughing at me?"
"I'd never," he lied, still grinning, and very grateful all she could see was a silhouette of his head.
She made a sound of disgust. "Go to sleep. And—"
"I know, don't touch you, don't disturb you, don't get in your way."
"Exactly," she said sounding pleased.
A moment later, he heard her snore. It was as though she had an off switch she could flick and instantly fall asleep. Lucky her. It took Max a little longer to succumb, but he eventually did, slipping straight into a dream about the woman beside him.
A few hours later, he woke to the feeling he was being suffocated and knew instantly what it was. Violet was back on her perch, lying on top of him like he was a log. How she got in position without waking him, he didn't know. Even in sleep, she had the moves of a ninja.
He didn't try to avoid touching her this time.
They were past that. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back, marveling at how soft she felt, when he knew she was toned muscle head to toe.
She snuggled closer, although he suspected Violet wouldn't call it that.
The word snuggle would probably make her gag.
A weird sense of rightness overcame him as he lay there, holding her close and breathing in her scent.
Like everything else about her, it was unique.
A tantalizingly sexy blend that evoked mystery and power.
Like a night flower, quietly emitting the lure of its heady scent, to seduce visitors in the darkness.
Yeah, his Violet was just like a seductive night blossom.
His Violet?
The words hung in his mind as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.
She wasn't his. He couldn't have her, even if he wanted to.
It was the wrong time, the wrong place—and he was probably the wrong man for her too.
His obsession with Damien Poole had taken him over and there wasn't a whole lot left to give to a relationship. Maybe after everything was over…
Who was he kidding? When things were done, she'd go back to Houston and he'd return to Toronto to write a story that would hopefully get his life back on track. And get justice for his friend.
His chest hurt at the thought of saying goodbye to his bodyguard, and he had the fierce desire to clamp his arms tight around her and never let go.
But he was being unrealistic. He was feeling the potential of what could have been between them, not the reality of their situation—which was rooted in pretending and a shared need for justice.
He ran his fingers down the curve of her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin.
Such a contrast to the woman herself. Violet was all steel and sharp edges, until you touched her.
He smiled—or until she crashed out on top of you.
Then she cuddled like a little panda, so trusting and warm and soft. And she felt like his.
His Violet.
The potential of that phrase was so tantalizing he could almost taste it. A longing, so deep it scarred his bones, made him close his eyes. He felt her breathing against his chest, her heartbeat against his, and wished the moment would never end. That he didn't have to go back to reality.
That he didn't have to walk away from what could have been.
Potentially his Violet.
He ached with wanting.
Against him, Violet stirred and snuggled closer, nuzzling against the crook of his neck.
Catnip.
She was so addictive he was in danger of forgetting his priorities in order to spend time figuring her out, touching her, being with her.
She made a little mewling noise as she wriggled against him.
"You're touching me," she accused half-heartedly, in a husky sleep-filled voice.
He stroked a hand down the curve of her back. "You're sleeping on top of me again," he told her.
"Huh," she grunted before wriggling once more. "How'd you get under me?" As though it was his fault they'd ended up in this position.
Max smiled. "I wish I knew. When you're home, do you sleep in a bed or climb a tree at night and lie on a branch?"
"You're a funny guy," she mumbled, her lips moving against his throat.
The movement turned into her rubbing her mouth against him, and then he felt her press kisses to his throat. Max stopped breathing. His hands stilled on her body as he waited to see what she'd do next. He didn't have to wait long as her fingers threaded through his hair.
"I like your hair," she said, a seductive whisper.
He cleared his throat. "It needs cutting."
"Don't," she ordered as she nuzzled his ear with her nose.
His hands clenched on her back. Every touch, every movement she made, sent little sparks of electricity skittering through his body. When teeth nipped at his earlobe, he sucked in a breath.
"Vi," he said, because he couldn't let this go on much longer without asking. "What’re you doing?"
She shifted, brushing against an erection that was painfully hard. Pushing up on her elbows, either side of his head, she looked down at him. Her face was shadowed in the darkness, and her hair fell around them like a gossamer curtain.
"I thought I was seducing you," she whispered. "Am I?"
The sweet vulnerability in her voice sucked the air out of his body. He clasped her hips, holding on tight.
"Oh yeah," he said. "But have you thought this through? Are you awake enough to know what you're doing?" The words were agony to get out.
She considered her response for an eternity.
"Yes," she said at last before closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his.
It was the first time she'd initiated a kiss, and it was perfect. There was no hesitation, no confusion, only Violet's lips exploring his with torturous slow touches that stole his sanity.
But…
"Maybe we should talk about this?" he said when she paused.
Her body tensed against his. "No."
"No?"
She let out a little annoyed huff. "You talk too much. And that's useful sometimes. But there's a time and a place for it, and now isn't it. There's only one question that needs to be answered."
"What?" he said, afraid of what she might say.
She pulled back, putting a little more distance between them. He didn't like that at all.
"Max," she said, sounding unsure. "Do you want me?"
"Yes." The word was out before he'd even had time to think about it.
She melted against him. "Then shut up," she said before she kissed him again.
This time, Max did as he was told.