Violet snatched a flute glass filled nearly to the rim with champagne and tossed the bubbly drink back in one long pull. She knew it didn’t look well on her to be drinking like that with so many people around to watch, but her nerves were frayed enough to make her reach for a second glass as soon as she finished the first.
Just holding the second one was enough.
It was there if she needed it.
Out of the whole event of her mother’s fashion shows, the one thing Violet usually enjoyed the most were the after parties. While she could get an up close view of high profile people and celebrities sitting along the runway at the actual event, during the parties afterwards, she was rubbing elbows with those same people.
Most of the time, it was surreal.
Tonight, she was not in the mood.
It didn’t help that her friends had all but deserted her after arriving to the rented private upper-Manhattan loft space that her mother preferred to use for her after parties. Both Nicole and Amelia were gone off into the crowd of guests somewhere, putting their faces in front of the right people and smiling just the way they had been taught.
Violet knew the game. She used to play it, too.
Not tonight.
Glancing around the loft, she took in the black with chrome detailed decorations that matched the theme of her mother’s show. Chandeliers full of glittering crystals hung low from the vaulted ceiling. Most of the people had changed attire from what they had been wearing at the show, to sexier nightwear that they could move and dance in. Music from a DJ filled the space.
Violet’s mind was somewhere else entirely.
Her father had yet to come back. It wasn’t like Alberto to leave his wife hanging on a night that was as important as this one. Andrea was pissed off to the high heavens, but she was hiding it well enough, with her usual smile plastered on and a hand held out, ready to accept praise for her latest designs.
Violet was still worried. It put her on edge, which meant she just wasn’t in the mood for the party or the people. She would much rather be back at her condo where she could at least feel safe.
Maybe that’s what it was.
Maybe she just didn’t feel safe out in the open like this when something was clearly wrong.
Turning her back to the crowd, Violet stared out one of the loft’s many floor-to-ceiling windows as she tipped the flute glass up for another drink. The alcohol settled in her blood with a heavy quality, numbing her senses enough to take that edge off for the moment.
She wasn’t stupid enough to think it would last for long.
“There you are.”
Violet turned on her heel at the sound of her mother’s voice. Andrea’s smile was wide, but her eyes spoke of irritation as they narrowed in on Violet.
“What are you doing over here in the corner by yourself?” Andrea asked low, careful not to talk loud enough for others to hear. “I found your friends, but you weren’t with them. Do you know the people who are in here tonight, Violet? You should be out there talking to them.”
“I can do that on another night, Ma,” Violet said. “You’ll have another two shows this year alone.”
Andrea’s lips thinned. “What is the problem?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Well, get untired,” her mother snapped.
Violet bit back her retort, knowing it wouldn’t do anything except piss her mother off further. Andrea’s bad mood was only caused because of her husband’s absence. Otherwise, she would leave her daughter alone.
“Aren’t there people who want to talk to you?” Violet asked.
“Yes, but at the moment, I’m busy chasing after my daughter.”
“It’s not like you want to be doing that, so why are you even bothering?”
Andrea straightened, her hand clenching tight around the flute glass she held. Violet stood still and strong in the face of her mother’s barely-hidden anger. She felt a little proud of herself for having stood up to Andrea for once, because she usually wouldn’t, and instead, would let her mother criticize her as much as she wanted.
Maybe Violet was just growing up from that sort of nonsense with her mother. As a child, and a young teen, she had constantly tried to seek her mother’s approval in any way she could. While she loved attention from her father, she had always wanted some sort of affection from her mother as well.
Andrea’s affection only came when she approved of something, and not in between.
She was the very definition of conditional love.
Violet just didn’t care anymore.
“What did you just say to me?” Andrea asked.
If she held that glass any tighter, it very well might shatter.
Violet nodded at the glass. “Careful. We all know how quickly spilled blood can end a good party.”
Andrea’s hand loosened a bit. “Fine. If you want to leave like your father did, then go. God knows you’re doing nothing for me standing here in the goddamn corner.”
She smirked, knowing her mother’s words were only meant to hurt. For the majority of the night, her mother had ignored her, more so after hearing her daughter be complimented on the dress she’d chosen to wear. She hadn’t missed the looks Andrea had shot in her direction when she thought Violet didn’t notice, either.
The red dress Kaz picked out.
Unable to stop herself, though she knew she shouldn’t, Violet brushed her hand across the skirt of the red dress and said, “Even standing in a dress like this?”
Andrea’s jaw ticked. “Especially in a dress like that. You’re dressed like a whore.”
“You never did like it when someone looked better than you, Ma.”
Her mother didn’t respond to that. Instead, she clenched her teeth, turned on her heel, and stormed back into the flood of guests.
Violet was already heading toward the door.
Tapping his thumb against the steering wheel, Kaz stared out the windshield, watching and waiting for the moment that Violet Gallucci appeared. He knew she wasn’t home yet—he’d been out on the street long enough to know that much. But he was a patient man …
In his other hand, he turned a cigarette over between his fingers, thinking of how the nicotine within would take the edge off and give him peace of mind. For now, he was jittery with anticipation. There was a certain thrill to be where he was, especially knowing that he courted the wrath of more than one man if anyone knew where he was, or worse, what he had planned.
There was no guarantee what this night would bring—it wouldn’t be the first time he had made a mistake—but by the end of it, and of this he was sure, his point would be made, whether the girl he was waiting on liked it or not.
Glancing over at the illuminated dash, Kaz checked the time once more, then as he contemplated withdrawing his phone, just to keep himself busy, blinding headlights caught his attention. The town car they came from slowed down in front of Violet’s building.
The rear, passenger door swung open, and after a moment, the very person he’d been waiting on for more than an hour stepped out, slamming the door shut behind her. Before she could get far, however, the passenger’s window rolled down and a masculine voice called out to her. She turned, a flash of annoyance in her eyes as she went back, bending over to see inside the car and listen to what was being said.
The position made the material of the dress pull tighter across her backside, drawing his attention there and down the length of her legs.
Kaz might have hated the girl at the moment, but he could still appreciate the sight she made.
After a rather brief conversation, one that had Violet nodding, she was finally allowed to walk inside, and only when she was through the doors did the car pull away.
Stepping out of his own vehicle, Kaz tucked his cigarette away, making his way to the entrance. There was no guarantee that the doorman would let him in. Though the man looked ancient, he probably remembered a face and knew that he didn’t live in the building, but that didn’t stop Kaz.
Deftly, he pulled a hundred-dollar bill free from his suit jacket, holding it between two fingers as he offered it to the man without question. “I’m here to see the Martins on fifteen,” he said by way of explanation.
Whether there was an actual Martin family, or the man just wanted the money, Kaz was let through.
There was no sight of Violet in the lobby, but there was no need. Knowing men like Alberto Gallucci, he wouldn’t just allow his daughter into any apartment. No, it would need to be at the top, and one with a fair level of privacy, in case he or any of his associates were to visit.
Arriving at the bank of elevators, he checked the numbers. There were four, with two having never left the lobby floor, and another only going up to the second floor. The last, however, had stopped on the 26th floor—which must have been the one Violet had taken.
Boarding one, he pressed the number, watching the doors close as he drummed his fingers against the railing. After a while, he curled his fingers around the cool metal, needing to get his shit together. He had too many tells—the bouncing of his knee, drumming his fingers—like no matter how carefully controlled he tried to force himself to be, his nerves always manifested themselves.
When the bell dinged—the doors opening once more—Kaz stepped out, glancing down the hallway. To his surprise, there was only one unit on the floor, the door at the end. As he stopped in front of it and knocked, he didn’t bother covering the peephole, but purposefully took a step back so that she would have a clear view as to who stood on the other side.
He waited. And waited. Then considered the logistics of kicking the fucking door in before it swung open, Violet standing on the other side of it, wide-eyed like she had never seen a man before.
The cameras hadn’t done her justice, not even a little. In person, he could see the warm glow of her skin, the way her dress hugged to her curves. She looked beautiful, stunning really, enough that it made him want to drink her in further, and that annoyed the fuck out of him.
His brother had nearly gotten his head caved in because of her shit, because she and her friends decided they wanted a little trouble and wandered over to their side to fulfill it.
His anger renewed, when she opened her mouth to speak, he snapped, “Don’t speak.”
Surprisingly, she heeded the command, her lips slamming shut. He didn’t give her a chance to contemplate her actions before he was grabbing her arm, dragging her back into her apartment, and slammed the door shut behind them. He swung her around to stand in front of him.
“Kaz, what the hell are you doing?” she asked after he’d let her go, looking down at her arm as though it hurt.
But he hadn’t gripped her hard, of that he was sure. “What did I say?”
“Wait, wha—”
“Violet!”
She jerked violently at the sound of her own name, her gaze lifting to his immediately as fear clouded them. Oh, was she getting it now? Was she understanding that he wasn’t under her father and wouldn’t treat her like she was fucking glass?
“Tell me, when you stood in that office with me, worried about that little suka, what did I say?”
She swallowed, the sound almost audible as her eyes flitted to the side and back again. “That she would be fine with your brother, but I—”
When he took a step toward her, she took one back, and they repeated this dance until her back was against the wall and he was merely inches away. He shouldn’t have been delighted in her fear, but the sight of it—the way she trembled slightly, her breath catching in her throat—called to the darker urges inside of him.
“Imagine my surprise when fucking Italians show up and beat my brother to shit because your friend told them that he drugged her.”
“Amelia woul—”
“Who is Franco?” He really wanted to know, and despite his promise to his brother that he wouldn’t be going after the Italians, he would at least have an ending place for his rage once he got the green light.
Understanding seemed to light up her eyes. “Amelia’s boyfriend, but he—”
“Is that what you do?” Kaz asked, interrupting her once more, dragging his gaze down her front like he couldn’t help himself. “You and your little friends. You go out, get fucking slaughtered on drinks, and then cause problems? Is this some kind of game for you? Is that what you want, someone to fuck with?”
She was just standing there, staring up at him as though in a daze, but he was too pissed for that shit.
Slamming his open palm against the wall to get her attention, he said, “Answer me, you little suka!”
“Fuck you!” She exploded, shoving two hands against his chest and pushing him away.
Her strength was laughable compared to his, but he did take a step back, waiting to see what she would do next, because while her fear called to him, that fire in her eyes excited him more.
Violet clenched her fists at her side, staying pressed against the wall as she glared at Kaz. She was grateful he had taken a step back from her, because it let her take a second to think, but it didn’t offer much more.
She could still see him. The tightness of his jaw, the darkness in his features, and the anger radiating over his entire body.
He was so pissed.
At her.
And he still looked good.
She kind of hated him for that, too.
“Who do you think you are?” she asked him.
Kaz cocked one eyebrow. “I—”
“No, you get to listen now.” Violet’s anger forced her away from the wall where she felt a little more grounded, and right back at the man who thought he had some kind of right to storm into her apartment, demanding answers like she was the only one who might have them. Her finger snapped into his chest hard, making his gaze drop down to her hand. “Fuck you.”
He chuckled—dry and deep.
Violet ignored the way it rocked his chest and her hand. “I don’t care who you are. You don’t get to come in here like that, putting your goddamn hands on me and dragging me around like some doll.”
Again, he just smirked.
That time, he bared his teeth a little, but he was still watching her hand.
It irritated Violet like she couldn’t explain.
“Look at me!”
Kaz did, instantly. “What?”
Violet stilled. The one word had been practically spat from between clenched teeth—like she was nothing to him, and she wasn’t worth his words, looks, or attention.
She didn’t believe it, though.
He’d come here.
That meant something.
“You don’t get to do that,” she repeated quieter.
“Your friend got my brother’s head bashed in—do you not understand that? Your little lies—saving face, whatever the fuck it was—nearly took his life tonight. If you think you don’t deserve to be called out on bullshit like that, I have news for you.”
Violet shook her head, frustrated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told my father what happened.”
“Lied,” Kaz corrected.
She jammed her finger at him again. “I did not!”
Kaz, like she was an annoying little fly that kept touching him, brushed her hand away from his body. “Don’t do that again.”
Violet barked out a laugh. “Why, because you don’t like it? But it’s completely okay for you to grab me like a piece of property and haul me the fuck around. Right.”
She poked him again.
“Fuck you,” she muttered.
Kaz’s jaw clenched, and his gaze narrowed. “Stop.”
Violet didn’t drop her hand, but she didn’t poke him again. The heated anger in his tone was enough of a warning to say she had pushed him to a line and he was teetering on it. His fists, balled tightly at his sides, said he was holding back.
“I did not lie,” she said quietly. “I told my father what happened at the club with the drinks and Amelia.”
“With the addition that my brother was the one to do that, yes?”
Violet’s frustration exploded again, but this time, she didn’t let it blow up at him. She turned away, throwing a hand high in his face as if to wave away his stupidity and his assumptions.
She didn’t even get to turn around completely or drop her hand before Kaz had grabbed it tight in his own and spun her back around.
“Don’t you fucking walk away from me right now—don’t put your hand in my face like you’re fucking dismissing me!”
Violet’s back met the wall with a hard smack. The air left her lungs with a gasp when he grabbed her other hand and pushed it down at her side. Kaz clouded her vision—all of him—dark, angry, and ready to hurt.
Strangely, she wasn’t scared that time.
Swallowing hard, Violet refused to meet his gaze. “Let me go.”
“I like you right where you are.”
But he was too close to her.
Close enough for her to smell his cologne and see the flecks of blue in his gray eyes. Close enough that she could feel the tremor crawling over his arms and the way his muscles jumped when he pressed against her.
Too close.
She shouldn’t be turned on by a man who did to her what Kaz had done.
“Tell me the truth,” he demanded. “You lied.”
“I didn’t.”
Violet didn’t even know how to begin explaining her situation to Kaz, but his assumptions were entirely wrong.
“Do you understand the gravity of lying about a man like that in this kind of business?”
She blinked. “Yes.”
His hold on her wrists tightened to an almost painful point. “And you still did it!”
Violet’s head snapped around, her gaze cutting to his. “I did not!”
“Standing by and doing nothing as someone else lies is the same thing, Violet.”
“I didn’t do that either, asshole.”
He released her one arm, and pointed a finger right in her face. It almost reminded her of a gun ready to blow as it came closer.
“You did, you fucked us over when all I did was try to help you that night. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, right? Rich little sukas like you have to get your kicks somewhere when you’re bored of draining your daddy’s pockets dry.”
Violet’s mouth dropped open, and a pain sliced straight through her heart.
He didn’t know her.
He knew nothing about her.
And his words ached.
Reaction from pure fury alone was the only excuse Violet had for her next actions. With her hand free, he had left himself exposed. Before she could properly think over what she was doing, she smacked his hand out of her face with a huff.
Kaz dropped her other hand, surprised.
She was raising it just as fast.
When it cracked across his cheek, the sound reverberated in the condo.
Nothing else made a noise.
He didn’t even breathe as he took a single step back, his thumb stroking his jaw as his stare focused in on her again.
She didn’t move an inch.
Violet knew better than to hit a man when he was in a rage. A normal man would walk away, but a man prone to violence might not.
She opened her mouth to speak—not to apologize, but to tell him to leave—but she didn’t get the chance to say a thing. Kaz was on her before she had even blinked.
His hands were at the top of her throat, forcing her head up as he crowded her to the wall again. Violet’s eyes widened, her heart racing as she felt his long fingers tighten just enough to scare her.
“Don’t hit me,” he said.
Violet tensed as his hands began to move down her throat with a slowness that made her shudder. Maybe it was the roughness of his skin, or the heat of his palms dragging down the column of her neck, but his touch didn’t quite feel threatening like it first had.
She sucked in a deep breath when his thumbs rested against the hollow of her throat. He didn’t press to cut off her windpipe, but rather, just let his thumbs rest there like they could hurt her with her next blink.
“I didn’t lie,” she told him. “And I didn’t know she did.”
Kaz’s gray stare never wavered from hers. “It’s easier for me to believe otherwise.”
“That’s something you’ll have to deal with, I guess.”
Her words were bravado, and very little else. It was getting more difficult by the second to ignore the shake in her hands or the pulsing ache between her thighs.
This was not good at all.
“This could be so easy,” Kaz said, still watching her in that way of his. “Just a little press of my fingers right here, and then what you did is answered for.”
“Except I didn’t do it.”
His lips parted to speak again, but he hesitated.
“I didn’t,” she repeated. “And you won’t hurt me for not doing anything at all.”
Kaz’s mouth curled at the corners, and he flashed his white teeth in a mix between a sneer and a grimace. She felt his fingers tighten to her throat and his thumbs press against the hollow just enough to make her stand a little straighter, freeze under his hands, and wait.
She didn’t have to wait for long, but his next move was not what she was expecting.
Violet blinked and Kaz’s mouth was crushing down on hers rough, hard, and demanding. The shock of his kiss made her gasp, and his tongue instantly sought out the heat of her mouth. His hands never left her throat, but they had loosened enough that she relaxed. And when his tongue struck hard against hers, she was already fisting his jacket and pulling him closer.
He groaned against her mouth, the sound originating from somewhere deep in his chest. Violet’s eyes were locked on his, only shutting for a brief moment when his teeth sunk into her bottom lip.
The shock of pain was electric.
Jesus.
She whined low, and pulled him closer again.
There was no hiding how she shook and he let out a ragged sigh as his forehead rested to hers.
Silence echoed.
He watched her like that, saying nothing.
She didn’t mind—she no longer wanted to move.
A heartbeat’s time passed before Kaz moved away, fighting to get himself under control. This wasn’t the first time he had ever kissed a girl, and even if it had only lasted for no more than a minute, his cock was harder than it had ever been.
She didn’t take her eyes from him, not even when she licked her lips, just a quick swipe of her tongue that made him ache all the more. Would she look like that when she was on her knees? Would she be as excited to have those pretty little lips wrapped around his cock?
Shit.
He shouldn’t have been thinking of her, not that way, but he couldn’t get the image out of his head, and the more he stood there staring at her as she did him, the more he thought about getting her exactly as he wanted.
Reaching down, he palmed his erection, shifting it into a less painful position. Violet’s eyes followed, a flush blossoming in her cheeks as she watched his actions.
Knowing that it wasn’t going to do him any favors by watching her reaction to him, Kaz turned away, taking a breath as he contemplated where to go from there. It wasn’t like he could pretend like it didn’t happen—he didn’t want to.
He had learned rather quickly that she had already managed to dig her way under his skin, and at the moment, he had no intention of trying to get her out. So since she was already there …
Turning back to her, he got himself under control long enough to ask, “Hungry?”
Maybe it was the confusion of all that had just happened, or perhaps because he sounded so unaffected that she frowned, her brows drawing together. “What?”
“Are you hungry?” he asked again. “For food, I mean.”
That, at the very least, wiped the confusion from her face, only for a scowl to replace it. “Why are you asking?”
“Let’s grab something to eat.”
Violet looked like he’d sprouted a second head. “Are you joking?”
Kaz shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m quite serious.”
“You have to be joking … Kaz, are you forgetting who I am? Who we are? We can’t be seen together, let alone be together.”
It sounded more like she was afraid of being seen with him as opposed to not wanting to go with him at all. “Come with me. We’ll get out of Brooklyn, I’ll take you to a little place I know that’ll keep you out of trouble, and we can have a moment to ourselves. What do you say?”
Violet looked nervous, unsure even, but as he expected her to decline, maybe even talk more about the risks, she nodded.