Fucking goof.
I’m sitting here, an hour and a half away from home, away from her because I needed some space to get my head together and decide what I’m fucking doing.
Space, yeah, but I still want to see what she’s doing while I get it. Really, I’d like to know what she’s doing every second of the day. I’m having one of Zack Jacobs’ guys stop into her office tomorrow under the guise of inspecting the smoke alarms and sprinkler systems on that floor so he can plant a camera to point at where Violet spends 8:30 to 5:00 every day.
For her safety.
Right. And my satiety.
Her phone is being tracked now, too, for location. And I’m avoiding the urge I’ve got to dig deeper and spy on her through cloning it.
But looking at her now, seeing how she’s been all night, watching her interact with Patricia, I don’t need that.
What I do need, is to turn this fucking thing off and go to bed. Sleep. I didn’t sleep last night. Not a fucking wink.
I was pissed off knowing she was dodging me. It’s not that this girl isn’t interested in me – I know she is. It’s that fucking Iadanza wrapped her around his finger and sucked three years away where, in the process, he sucked the life out of her.
I’ve never been obsessed with a woman like this. Never been obsessed with a woman, period. I’ve been a strictly casual guy always. Haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I was sixteen and that only lasted a summer.
I’m torn. I shouldn’t want someone who spent three years with him – the fuckhead. But I do. Badly.
And I’m warring with her asking me not to hurt him.
Because the other night I wanted to put a bullet in him with the gun he brought to my fucking club. I still don’t know if he’d have had the balls to use it, but I also know I wasn’t about to take any chances. I am not a gambling man. I calculate instead. Unlike that shithead.
I had no plans to go back and fuck her to get revenge on him like I threatened. But, if she’d let me put my mouth on hers, I know it would’ve been the beginning of us. Fuck. Who am I kidding? We’ve already begun.
I’m losing my loose hold on patience. I want to go home and climb in with her. Sleep with her silky hair all over me, her scent in my nose, the knowledge of what she sounds like, what she feels like when she’s taking my cock.
On that thought, I take another long draw from my drink and lay my head on the arm of the couch. I haul down the blanket that’s draped over the back of it and kick my shoes off. I yawn and then stare at the dancing flames licking at the top of the fireplace until my phone slides out of my hand and lands on the rug beside me. My eyes drift shut. I’m drunk. Very.
Behind my eyelids I see the art hanging over Violet’s bed, see how she stared at it with awe on her face. And then I see her in my mind in the field here beside this house. That field was overgrown before the weather got cooler and I finally had it mowed. I left it wild because it was this big field of color, nothing but grass and wildflowers until you get to the ocean. In my head I see her there, amid dandelions gone to seed. She’s in a pretty dress. She’s twirling around with all the seeds floating around her and then she falls into my arms and it feels like perfection because in the vision, I know she’s mine. Just mine.
And nothing is standing in the way of it.
Space isn’t what I need. She’s what I need. What I want.
But maybe she needs a little space from me. From Raymond. From all of it.
33
Violet
I’m reading an article online about the Numbers opening and in amongst a dozen photos of the place, the people… there’s me. Me! I’m in a picture with Killian on the red carpet.
Wow, he looks good. He looks so good. As I’m drooling down my chin at the sight of him in that tuxedo, Cammy’s head pops up over the half-wall between our cubicles.
“Did you see that guy over there fudging around with the sprinklers? H-o-t.”
I look over my shoulder and see a workman on a ladder not ten feet away. I can only see the back of him.
“Shh,” I say to her. “Have you no shame? He can hear you.”
“I’m single,” she states. “And I don’t see no ring on his finger, neither. Holy shit, girl. Is that you?” Her eyes are wide, aimed at my computer screen.
“Uh…”
She’s suddenly rounded the wall and is in my cubicle, crowding me so she can see my screen. She looks at me with her mouth in a giant O.
“Oh my word. Killian Co… Killian Coulter? The guy that Deb and … oh wow. Girl, that man is fire. Fi-yar!”
I roll my eyes, but also can’t help but giggle a bit. Cammy’s reactions are so over-the-top right now.
She’s not wrong about Killian, though.
“Look at how gorgeous you are!” She stares at me and her mouth drops open before her eyes bounce back to the screen. “Gorg! Is he your main squeeze now?”
“No, I just did a favor accompanying him,” I say absently. “And he did one for me, I guess.”
I have to admit that I do like that picture of me. Even more than that, I like how Killian’s arm is around me. It looks like protectiveness. And that’s exactly how it felt when the picture was taken.
“Explain.”
I wave my hand. “Never mind. It was just a favor. No biggie.”
“What about his … reputation?”
“Pardon?” I ask.
“His… you know… connections.”
I shrug. “I know nothing about any of that. It was just a favor.”
She studies me half a second before announcing, “Welp… it’s lunchtime. You’re coming today. Get your bag. I’m buying and you’re spilling.”
“I’m spilling nothing,” I tease. “You said it yourself… Fort Knox over here.”
“Yeah… well… I’m Nancy Drew,” Cammy declares, folding her arms over her ample chest, “And I’m gonna find out!”
I laugh and grab my bag. I close the lid of my laptop and follow her to the elevator.
***
It was weird driving myself to work this morning from Killian’s place. Setting the alarm and locking Killian’s door, being in that apartment all by myself all night without him there.
I love that apartment, though. Tonight, I’m thinking about using the gym downstairs. I haven’t had a good workout in days.
Last night, I finally made myself eat a bowl of cereal when my stomach was growling at midnight. I found an opened box of Lucky Charms in the pantry and enjoyed the heck out of that bowl of sugary goodness, unable to remember the last time I’d had those.
I didn’t sleep very well. I wondered where Killian was that he had to be gone all night. When he’d be back.
I also felt a pang of sadness at the notion that maybe he was out with somebody. He certainly looked good when he left. Though… he always looks good.
That Jessa girl, maybe. She certainly seemed like she wanted to get his attention at Numbers on Saturday night.
I have no right to feel that way. It’s not like I’m ready to date. Am I officially even single yet? As of next week, I hope I will be. Though logistically, I have no idea how it’ll work. Will Ray do the smart thing and skip town and never turn up again? Will he try to rob a liquor store to get Killian’s money and wind up in prison? Will he not come up with the money and then get ‘disappeared’?