“If you say it’s over with him, then it’s over. Simple as that.”
“You don’t know Ray,” I say, eyes hitting my lap.
“I don’t?”
My eyes bounce up and he’s got an eyebrow cocked.
“I guess you do. I mean, you don’t know what Ray is like with me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, I just want him to go away. To leave me alone.”
“You don’t know me. If you knew me you’d believe what I’m about to say so do your best to believe it, okay?”
“Believe what?”
He squats in front of me so we’re eye-level.
“He’s done fucking with you, Violet.”
I swallow.
“Violet,” he says, and my name sounds like a command, a command to believe him.
My throat feels like it’s closing. Panic is setting in as his eyes, like liquid fire blaze at me.
“He’s done fucking with your life,” he repeats again, as if to try to drive the message home.
“If… I’m not really a marker, not really in danger because of his debt, why are you keeping me at your apartment?”
“You are a marker.”
I flinch with confusion.
“Leverage,” Killian says. “Raymond needs to sweat. He needs to know what he did was stupid and no amount of childhood history would let that stand. I am not gonna let shit go. I don’t ever let shit go, Violet. This is why I am where I am today.”
I chew on my lip.
He continues talking, eyes focused on my mouth. “If he were a good friend of mine and pulled that shit with me it wouldn’t stand.” Killian’s eyes move up to lock with mine. “He is not a good friend of mine. We grew up in the same shitty complex, fucked around in the same playgrounds, and believe me, Violet, I had no respect for him the night he met you. I just happened to be at the same place he was.”
“He made it seem like you guys were tight.”
“Like I said, you see me in three years?”
I shake my head.
“Exactly. Before the night at your apartment, the last time I saw that guy was a month after he met you. Just happened to be at the same place at the same time again. And not a call, nothin’ in between until that night a few weeks ago when we just happened to be in the same sports bar. I was meeting up with someone for a business reason and he approached my table when that was done.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. There’s more there, but I’m not lookin’ to get into it right now. What you need to know today is that this thing gives me the leverage I want with him and nothing bad is gonna happen to you while you’re the marker, okay? And when it’s done, however it gets done, you’ll be fine. This is a means to an end for the both of us. Enjoy your time here away from him, knowing he’s no longer your problem.”
“Okay,” I say, not feeling so sure and having more questions. But before I can ask them, he sits down beside me and gestures toward the closet door.
“Now, should we assess your dress situation?”
I rise, wiping my clammy hands on my jeans and head into the closet. I sift through what I’ve hung on the rack until I find two dresses that might work. I want to ask him what’ll happen to Ray if he doesn’t pay, but I don’t know if that’s wise, so I decide to let it lie for now.
I step out with hangers dangling from both of my index fingers.
He eyes them and I can’t get a read on his expression. He stares for what feels like a long moment before finally speaking.
“Been a while since you’ve had a new dress?”
I nod. Are these that bad? I look at the one in my left hand, then my eyes bounce to the one in my right.
“Those are both gorgeous. You’d look great on any red carpet in either dress. But, I need to ask you to allow me to buy you a dress. I want you to feel confident walking in there and I’d like to buy you a new dress as a little thank you for attending the opening with me tomorrow night.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He flexes his jaw and draws in breath for what seems like a long moment before he answers. “You’re being cooperative about this marker business. It’s making my life easier. And I’ve got no reason to be not-nice to you.”
I stare at him for a moment. He waits patiently for my answer.
“Okay,” I concede.
“Good. Let’s go make dinner. I’m starving.” He rises.
“Okay. I’ll just – can I make a call first?”
“Of course you can. I’ll go get the groceries unpacked and start chopping some vegetables. You want me to pour you a glass of wine?”
“Oh, no thanks. I’m a little fuzzy from the two glasses I had already. I don’t drink that often. I might ruin dinner if I have more wine.”
He smiles. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
But maybe I need a little more liquid courage in order to spend more time with him tonight.
I’m feeling all sorts of nervous. My hands are clammy. My knees are wobbly. And I’m definitely feeling my nerves.
I head into the closet to hang the two dresses back up and then step back out and take it in again. This bedroom is absolutely stunning.
The bed is a pretty shade of blue, but the quilt is multicolored with raggedy ruffles in diamond-shaped patterns in rust, several colored ginghams, plaids, and solid colors. There’s a bouquet of flowers that’s just as whimsical and colorful. Country cottage or farmhouse chic style, which is in contrast to the rest of the apartment’s décor, but I love it.
The desk looks like something I’d have created myself with one of my upcycling projects. The drawers are all painted different colors and each drawer pull is different.
Above the bed is a beautiful wood palette-style art piece in grey distressed wood with a black dandelion sketch gone to seed. In pretty cursive script, it says, ‘Close your eyes and make a wish’.
“I always made wishes on dandelions,” I say aloud. “Until Ray broke me.” I shake my head and whisper, “I’m gonna start making wishes again.”
I look at the art and close my eyes and then I blow lightly into the air toward the painting, as if blowing seeds off that dandelion, wishing that I could somehow always feel as safe as I do right now, right here in Killian’s penthouse.
I open my eyes. He’s in the doorway, eyeing me curiously.
I jerk in surprise.
“What was that? Meditating?”
“Not exactly.”
He watches me for a long moment and eyes the painting.
“You like that art?”
“I love it. It’s like you know me or something.”
His expression goes tense.
“Or your decorator, I guess.”
He smiles. And then he says, “Problem. I forgot chow mein noodles.”
“Do you have rice? Or even regular pasta will work.”
“Maybe. I’ll look. Come see what we’ve got to work with?”
“Sure.”
“Did you make your call?”
“No.” I wave. “I’ll text her though and tell her I’ll catch up with her later.”
“The bank teller?”
“Yeah. She wanted me to check in. She wants to make sure I’m okay.”