Alexander

I clicked on my inbox, and I could feel my pulse rate rise at the number of emails from instructing solicitors that I hadn’t even opened, let alone dealt with. I was too busy for house hunting this afternoon. If I had been going on my own to see the agent and hadn’t said that Violet could come, I would have canceled. Which was how I’d ended up living in a hotel for three years. There was never enough time to find a place to move into. But I wanted to spend the time with her. I was looking forward to her bright smile and warm body.

I was behind, even more so than usual, and Lance had spoken to me—again—to tell me I needed to work with a junior. In the last four nights, I’d had fifteen hours sleep and I was exhausted. I’d been thinking more and more that maybe Lance was right. And if I moved someone into my office temporarily then I could track what they were doing more easily. I was weakening against the arguments put forward by Lance and Violet.

Despite my workload, I’d seen Violet most evenings, although less than I would have liked. She was unsurprisingly undemanding of my time, but it only made me want to see her, touch her, hold her, breathe in that calming scent of India, get the easy perspective she had on the world.

It was the first time a woman had competed against work and stood a chance at winning. I looked at my watch. Even if I left now, I would be late, but Violet hadn’t called to tell me where to meet. Had she forgotten?

Fuck it. I’d just work twice as hard tomorrow. I threw on my coat and bolted out the door. As I sat down in the back of the cab, I called Violet.

“Hey, sexy,” she said.

“Look who’s talking. I’m on my way to the agent’s office, shall I pick you up?”

“No, that’s fine. I can walk. I’ll keep her talking if you’re late.”

“And you’re still on for dinner?” I asked.

“Why? Do you have to work? Because if you do, I’m going to sulk.”

Her words tugged at my chest. Sometimes I wondered if the reason she was so cool about everything was because she was indifferent. I was a selfish bastard who needed a woman who wanted me but didn’t make demands of my time. Just like how I needed a junior barrister to take some of the burden of this case, but I didn’t want to give up control. I wanted everything my own way. All the time.

I just didn’t know how to be any different.

“No, I’m still on for dinner. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care, nowhere fancy.”

I always wondered if her lack of funds was the reason she never wanted to go anywhere expensive. Was she worried I’d let her pick up the bill? It would never happen, but maybe it was a concern. “What about Chinese? We could go to Hakkasan?”

“I’ve been in London a while now. You can’t pull that shit on me. I know that’s a super-fancy Chinese place.”

I chuckled. “Okay. You name the place.”

“I could cook. I make a mean mac and cheese.”

“I know that about you. Sounds good.” It felt good too—to have a woman want to cook for me, someone who wasn’t interested in going to the latest restaurants but just wanted to spend time with me. I peered out of the window and saw Violet huddled under an umbrella outside the real estate agent’s office. “I see you,” I said.

The cab pulled up next to her just as she snapped her head around; her eyes lit up when she saw me. God, it felt good to provoke that kind of reaction in a woman that clever, funny, and beautiful. I jumped out of the cab and cupped her face in my palm, pressing my lips to hers, breathing her in.

The cab honked and she jumped. I grinned against her mouth, then released her. I paid the impatient cabbie, grabbed Violet’s hand, and we made our way inside.

A smart woman, dressed in flat shoes and a navy-blue suit, introduced herself to us as Martha and we took our seats opposite her at a table by the window.

“So, Mr. Knightley, what exactly are you looking for?”

I really should have given this more thought than I had. It felt like such a big deal just to be contemplating moving from the hotel—I’d let myself off the hook from considering the details. “A place to live,” I responded, unhelpfully. It was about as far as my attention had reached in relation to house hunting.

“Good. And what sort of place are you looking for?”

“A place around here.” I liked the area, that much I knew.

“I see. And your budget?”

“It will depend on the place.”

Violet squeezed my hand. “How many bedrooms?” she asked.

“Two plus a study.”

The agent nodded. “At the top end of the specification for a three bedroom, we’re talking around the ten to twelve million mark.”

I’d looked at a couple of places when I’d left Gabby, but prices had gone up in the time since. I should have bought three years ago, but I hadn’t been ready to commit to anything more than my work.

“A similar size and specification in Fitzrovia would be more like three to four,” Martha said. “And Bloomsbury is even more affordable. Or we can look at something that might need a little more work, which would bring it down significantly. Shall we extend our search area? Many people are starting to move out of Mayfair.”

People might be moving out of Mayfair but that didn’t mean I would. I liked being so central. Convenience was key. “I don’t want to do work or spend more than ten. I’d prefer freehold or a long lease. That’s something I won’t compromise on.”

Martha didn’t flinch. “I’m sure I can find something for you that will work. In fact, I have a couple of things in mind. Give me a few minutes while I arrange a couple of viewings.”

As Martha walked away, Violet took in a deep breath.

“You okay?” I asked.

“It’s stupid expensive around here.” She glanced out of the window.

“New York’s no better—it’s the cost of living in the city.”

“Well, I live in New York and I’m not paying ten million cents for the places I rent.”

“Have you kept your place on while you’re over here?” Was she desperate to get back home? I didn’t think about her stay in London as temporary—was I taking too much for granted?

“No way.”

“So what will you do when you go back?” I wanted to ask her how long she planned to stay. Her extended contract in chambers lasted until the end of January, but what would happen after that? I didn’t want to push her, though. I wanted her to open up to me. Share things.

She began to pick at her thumbnail. “Not sure. Stay with Scarlett and Ryder for a while.”

She wouldn’t meet my gaze, and I wanted to ask her what was wrong but before I got a chance, Martha was back.

“I’ve just confirmed a few places are still available—they’re in easy walking distance. Are you ready to go?”

The rain had stopped, and as we got out onto the pavement I slipped my hand into Violet’s and we walked behind Martha silently—both with too much on our minds. Was she homesick or just horrified by real estate prices in Mayfair? I could understand both, but do nothing about either. Was she thinking about what she’d do when she got back to New York or whether she could extend her stay in London past six months? If Martha hadn’t been with us perhaps I’d ask her, but for now, I’d settle for her being with me.

“I want your honest opinion, okay?” I told Violet as we approached the first place.

She glanced up at me and grinned.

As we walked in, Violet dropped my hand.

“It’s newly renovated. Solid-oak, herringbone floors, three bedrooms, three bathrooms. Italian marble in the kitchen, integrated sound system. Twenty-four-hour porter.” Martha’s voice faded into the background as I watched Violet look over the flat. She inspected every corner in great detail from the floor to the ceiling and from the kitchen to the broom cupboard. Her face didn’t give anything away, which was unusual. Normally I could immediately tell if she approved or disapproved of something I’d said or something someone else had done. I followed her around, failing to take in my surroundings, just more and more interested in what Violet thought.

“The third bedroom is the perfect size for a nursery,” Martha said, opening the door to a small bedroom that overlooked the square. “And of course, the park is wonderful for children.”

Did I look as if I was verging on procreating? Perhaps she thought it was the reason for the move. Martha couldn’t know I was a selfish workaholic who had left his wife when she’d started talking about kids. Martha didn’t understand that I didn’t stay most nights with Violet because I had a habit of getting up in the early hours and clearing down my emails.

Like Gabby had said, nothing had changed—single or married, married or divorced. And that was how I wanted it, wasn’t it? I was flat hunting for a place that would be empty eighteen hours a day, every day. Where there’d be nothing in the fridge and only my clothes in the wardrobe.

“So, what are your first impressions?” Martha asked, looking at me.

I glanced at Violet. “What do you think?”

“I think the third bedroom is too small. You spend a lot of time working. There isn’t enough space for you in there, and if you took the second bedroom as a study then the third isn’t big enough for a guest bed. The master en suite doesn’t have dual sinks or a separate shower, and I think that could impact resale.” Violet sighed. “It’s also overpriced by about two hundred and fifty pounds a square foot for the area.” She put her hand on her hip and glanced around again. “But I like the ceiling height and the views. I just don’t think this is it. Maybe we should look at a mews house to compare. Plus I want to see inside one. We Americans don’t have many houses left that were built three hundred years ago and shared with horses. I can’t decide whether the horses were super lucky or the humans were just slumming it and I want to see for myself.”

My God she was cute, sexy, and smart. And so caring.

I didn’t have to think about what I needed from a house because Violet had done it for me.

“I have a mews house lined up,” Martha said. “And a duplex. Shall we move on?” She turned and headed toward the exit.

Violet grinned as if to say You thought I wouldn’t do my homework?

I had no reply but the beginning of a raging hard-on for this girl who was clever and prepared and considered everything I needed before I even knew what that was myself. She was always like that—the picnic in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, the junior sharing my office. She cared about me and my needs and I wanted to do the same for her. I wanted her to feel as special as she made me feel.