At least with poker and my preferred game of choice, blackjack, we use some sort of skill.
“Don’t do it Joel.” I lift my head at first sound of her voice. She’s not looking at Joel though. She’s staring straight at me, her mouth hard, her eyes flat. “Show your cards and end the game. Don’t let this asshole get you in any deeper than you already are.”
“Ouch. So mean with the name calling.” I rub my chest, pretending she hurt me. I’ve been called worse. “You going to let her tell you what to do, Joel?” I say it because I know the question will piss her off. And it does. She’s practically got steam coming out of her ears but she says nothing to me. I can’t help but be faintly disappointed.
“Shut up, Jade,” Joel mutters, shocking the both of us. “Let me do this.”
I turn to her. “Joel just grew some balls, Jade. Or should I still call you Bitch Face?”
She grimaces. “I’d rather you call me nothing at all.”
“Jade,” Joel says, his voice firmer. I can tell he really wants her to shut up. I’m taking this as a sign that he also wants to carry forth on the bet. Meaning his hand is fucking stellar.
Well, guess what? So is mine.
“What kind of name is that anyway? Jade?” I make a face, trying to hold back the laughter that wants to escape because I know for a fact that I’m irritating the shit out of her.
“Like you have any room to talk. What the hell is a Shep?”
“I’ll have you know it’s an old family name.” I try my best to remain dignified but I’m failing. This chick amuses me like no other. Her smart mouth is kind of hot. “My mother is a Shepard. I come from a long line of Shepards.”
“Well goody for her. My mom happens to like the color green.” She flashes me a smile and tosses her head, her ponytail swishing, tempting me to grab it, yank her close and wipe that shitty little smile off her face.
With my lips.
“You two done flirting so we can do this, or what?” Joel asks, sounding furious. And he looks furious too. Interesting. I’m enjoying this more and more.
“We were not flirting,” Jade says as she starts to turn her head in Joel’s direction.
“Ah, ah, ah. Better watch it,” I warn and she returns her attention back to me, earning a fierce frown from her for my efforts. “I don’t want to have to kick Joel’s ass, you know.”
“He could probably take you,” she mutters halfheartedly.
“Ha. I’d demolish him and you know it.”
“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Joel pipes up.
“Okay.” I look away from Bitch Face Jade and study Joel, who appears much more confident than he did a few minutes ago. This would normally make me nervous. And I normally don’t mind feeling nervous during these situations because it amps up the adrenaline and makes everything that much more intense. Life is what you make it, right? I’m all for crazy bets and tense moments. At least I’m actually feeling something while it’s unfolding. “Let’s bet on Jade. If I lose, I’ll pay you some ungodly amount of money.”
“What sort of ungodly amount?” Joel asks, never missing a beat.
I ignore his question. “And if I win…I get your girl.”
“Joel, if you agree to this asshole’s stupid bet, I will kick you in the nuts so hard, you will never have children. And that’s a promise,” Jade threatens, her voice like ice.
Hell, even my nuts shriveled up a little at her words.
“It’s a sure thing,” he says, never once looking at her. “Don’t worry about it. What sort of ungodly amount are you talking about, Shep?”
The kid wants money. No problem. I can more than deliver. “Fifty.”
He rolls his eyes. “Big fucking deal.”
“Thousand,” I add, and those rolling eyes are now bugging out of his head.
Low murmurs erupt from the observers watching the game, startling me. I forgot they were there. Glancing up, I see Gabe standing near the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him and an amused expression on his face. He loves this shit as much as I do, maybe even more so. He gives me one of those shit-eating grins of his and I nod once before I resume my focus on Joel.
“What do you say?” I ask nonchalantly, clutching the cards in my hand. I could win this. Not much else can beat four queens, unless the schmuck has four kings or four aces. What are the odds though? Really?
They’re in my favor. They have to be.
“I’m not up for barter, you assholes,” Jade spits out, her voice laced with venom. “I don’t know who the hell either of you think you are, but you just can’t bet on me. I’m a freaking human being.” She pauses. I’m guessing she’s realizing her words are having little effect on either of us. “What would you do with me anyway if you won?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I slide my gaze over her, imagining the many ways I could have her if she was mine. Though it would be brief. I don’t keep girls, never have. Girlfriends want too much. Have high expectations that I can never, ever deliver. I don’t even want to deliver, because women? They are demanding as fuck.
And this one I know would give me nothing but endless shit.
“I hate you,” she whispers, shooting daggers at me with her…hmm. Hazel eyes? Yeah, they’re a mix of colors, green and gray and a hint of brown, so I’m calling her eyes hazel. “Don’t think I won’t stomp on your balls if you go through with this, because I so will.”
“Maybe I like that sort of kink,” I say, sitting up straight. “So what’ll it be, Joel? You in?”
“I’m fucking definitely in!” He shouts, then high fives the jackass who’s sitting behind him.
“All right then. An extra fifty-k if you win, Jade Bitch Face if I win.” I throw a hundred dollar chip into the center of the table, adding it to the pot as a goodwill gesture. “Call.”
“Here you go.” The smugness in Joel’s voice is unmistakable. “Read ‘em and weep.” He spreads his cards out in front of him. Three aces and two kings.
A fucking nice hand for sure.
“A full house,” I murmur, keeping my voice even while deep inside, I’m ready to offer up my own triumphant shout. Hot damn, I’ve got this fucker. “Aces and kings high.”
“Fuck yeah, dude.” Joel starts to reach for the pile of chips, coins and dollar bills, looking like a greedy kid who just busted the piñata and has no plans on sharing any of the candy that fell from it.
“Hold it.” Joel pauses in his gathering. “I haven’t showed my hand yet. There’s a protocol to this procedure you know.”
“Right, right, dude. Go for it.” He releases his hold on the pile of winnings, though his greedy gaze never strays from it. He’s not even looking at his girl, who just happens to be staring at me. She hates my guts. I can feel the waves of anger coming at me, heavier and heavier as each minute passes.
She’s really going to hate me when I share my cards.
“Ready?” I cock a brow, drawing out the suspense. I’m relishing this moment because it’s going to be a good one. There’s a vibration beneath my skin, a buzzing that grows and grows until it’s a dull roar in my ears and I blow out a long exhale, crinkle the cards between my fingers before I slowly drop them onto the table, one by one.
Six of hearts—the trash card.
Queen of spades.
Queen of hearts.
Queen of diamonds.
And—dramatic pause—the queen of clubs.
The entire room erupts into cheers, choruses of ‘no way’ and the occasional ‘he fucking beat you man!’. Gabe rushes me, shaking my shoulders from behind and offering up his congratulations. Others follow suit and clap me on the back, some chick drapes herself over me and kisses my cheek. A defeated Joel pushes away from the table so fast his chair falls backward with a clatter. He leaves the room in a huff, never once saying a word to anyone, not even his freaking girlfriend.
What a jackass.
And speaking of his girlfriend…
??
?You don’t really think you’ve won me or anything, right?” She rests her hand on my thigh—Jesus that feels good—and digs her fingernails in so hard, I can feel them even through the thick denim of my jeans.
That doesn’t feel so good. At all.
“A bet is a bet,” I remind her, wrapping my fingers around her wrist and disengaging her from my flesh. I drop her hand back into her lap, ignoring the tingle I feel in my fingertips from touching her.
“It was all for show,” she says, sounding the slightest bit worried. While all hell breaks loose around us, we’re having this conversation. Funny how I’m able to tune everyone else out and only focus on her. “You didn’t lose your fifty thousand, so everything’s good right? You get all that as your prize.” She waves her hand toward the pile of chips that Joel so recently abandoned.
“I hate to break it to you, Jade. But you’re my prize. And I plan on collecting.” I lean in close to her, so close I can feel her warm breath waft across my face, see the way her eyes widen the slightest bit. Her lips part, her tongue appears, touching the very center of her upper lip and my skin tightens. “How about a victory kiss for starters?”
“Fuck you,” she spits out.
Just before she slaps my face and storms off without another word.
Check out an excerpt from OWNING VIOLET, the first in Monica Murphy’s The Fowler Sisters series…
Chapter One
Violet
Tonight, my life is going to change.
In preparation for it, I spent all day at the spa. Treated myself to a facial, massage, wax, mani, and pedi. My skin is smooth, my face is clear, my fingers and toes are painted a perfect demure pink. My muscles are relaxed and loose, but my brain . . .
My brain is jumpy. My stomach is a mess of nerves. My outward appearance is the exact opposite of my inside because so much is on the line. Everything I’ve strived toward these last few years is coming to the final pinnacle tonight.
Finally.
I found a dress to wear for this special moment a few days ago at Barneys, one I knew Zachary would approve of. A navy-blue sheath, it hits just above the knee and skims over my curves, subtly sexy because he doesn’t like anything overt. Obvious.
Meaning he hates everything my older sister wears, does, says. He doesn’t much approve of the way my blunt baby sister acts, either.
But that’s fine. He’s going to ask me to marry him tonight. Not Lily or Rose.
Me.
There’s nothing obvious about me. I’m the epitome of understated. I would make the perfect politician’s wife. Standing behind my man, offering my never-ending support all while wearing the pleasant smile I’ve mastered over the years. There have been a few slipups in the past. I struggled once. Fought for my life, really, and survived.
My father and grandmother like to pretend none of that ever happened. Zachary doesn’t even know about it. It’s a moment in time—before I met him—the family prefers to sweep under the rug.
It’s so ugly, Violet, Father told me once. Wouldn’t you rather forget?
So I try. For the family.
Zachary arrives at my apartment right on time because heaven forbid he’s ever late. One of the many qualities I admire about him. He’s punctual, thoughtful, efficient, handsome, and smart. So incredibly smart. Some call him conniving. Others call him cutthroat. Rumors swirl that there are other women. I’m not stupid. I have my suspicions. They might have even been confirmed once or twice. But when we’re engaged, when we’re married . . .
That will change. It has to.
Zachary and I have a perfect relationship. The sort of relationship I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl. One that Lily mocks constantly, but what does she know about love?
Sex and addiction and getting into trouble, she knows plenty. But love? I don’t think she’s had a real relationship in her life.
I have. Boyfriends throughout junior high and high school, then my one very serious boyfriend in college. The one I’d originally thought I might marry. The one I gave my virginity to midway through freshman year. I’d been a real holdout, one of the last remaining virgins among my friends.
He dumped me the beginning of our sophomore year. Right after everything . . . happened. The incident, I like to call it. The thing no one likes to talk about. So I don’t talk about it either.
After the breakup, I remained single. Tried my best to rise above everything that happened by focusing on finishing school and then on my career, my legacy at Fleur Cosmetics.
I might have quietly fallen apart for a short period of time that not many know about. We kept it secret. Father didn’t want any more public humiliations. We lost Mom so long ago and he always said I was the most like her. Delicate but determined. Smart but not always practical.
I lived up to his expectations for a brief, not-so-shining moment. I needed therapy. I needed medication. More than anything, I needed to be numb. Craved being numb. Feeling emotions only hurt, and I was so tired of hurting.
But eventually I knew I needed to learn how to cope on my own.
Father let me return to work after my brief stint away. And when Zachary Lawrence started working for the company two years ago, getting to know him, I was soon interested. And so was he. I could tell. I didn’t care if at first he talked to me only because I was the CEO’s daughter. I flirted. I wanted his attention.
And I eventually got it. Got him.
I knew dating someone I worked with wasn’t the smartest move, but I couldn’t help it. Where else can I meet a man of such good quality? Someone I can trust? I have trust issues. No surprise, considering what I’ve been through.
While my father calls most of the shots, the company really is a family business. Both Rose and I work there. Even my grandmother still comes in and consults, though she’s now eighty-five and mostly retired.
She loves Fleur Cosmetics and Fragrance. My grandma is Fleur Cosmetics and Fragrance. She started the brand. It was her face that appeared in the magazine advertisements and billboards for so many years. Dahlia Fowler is a legend in the cosmetics industry.
And despite my weaknesses and my father’s once complete lack of faith in me, I desperately want to follow in her footsteps. With Zachary by my side, of course, considering he works in the brand marketing department and has higher aspirations. The two of us could take Fleur to the next level. I know it. He knows it.
Together, we’re a force to be reckoned with. And once we’re married . . .
“You’re lost in thought.”
Zachary’s deep voice washes over me and I blink, realize that he’s watching me. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is turned down. He looks concerned.
“I’m fine.” I smile, hope lighting within me when I see the worry etched all over his handsome features slowly disappear. His blue eyes twinkle as he reaches across the table and takes my hand, grasping my fingers tightly.
“I have something I want to discuss with you,” he says in that low, reassuring way of his.
My smile grows and I nod, squeezing his fingers. “Now?”
“Yes.” He takes a deep breath and lets go of my hand. Odd. “I’ve known about this for a while and it’s . . . taken everything within me to work up the courage to tell you.”
Oh. How sweet. He’s nervous about proposing. Zachary’s always so confident about everything—I’m surprised. “Go ahead and just say it, Zachary. I’m fairly sure it will all work out in the end.”
“I agree. Your father said the same thing.”
My heart skips a beat. He spoke with Father. This is serious. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for all this time. I can’t believe it. My fingers are literally trembling in anticipation of the ring he’s about to slip on my finger. I wonder how big it is. I don’t like gaudy jewelry. Neither does Zachary. Understated, refined—that’s more our style. Perhaps he spoke with Grandma and she gave him her engagement ring, though rightfully that should go to Lily since she’s oldest . . .
>
“. . . so he’s asked me to test out the new position in London and see if I’d be a good fit. And I said yes.”
Wait. What? “P-position? In London? What are you talking about?” I clear my throat, proud that I keep my voice level. I didn’t want to make a scene in the middle of one of the most elegant restaurants in all of Manhattan. I could hear my father’s voice now.
Violet, that just wouldn’t do.
“Your father is sending me to the London office, just on a temporary basis. They’ve created a new position there since growth in the UK and Europe has been so strong the last couple of years. I’ll be trying out the new chief brand and marketing director position both in London and Paris. It’s a tremendous opportunity, Violet. One I couldn’t turn down. This promotion could change everything.” The pointed look Zachary gives me says he’s made his choice and there’s no chance I can talk him out of it.
“But . . . Wait a minute.” I shake my head, a huff of fake laughter falling from my lips. He can’t be serious. That’s what he wanted to tell me? About a possible promotion? To London? “What about . . .”
“Us?” he finishes for me with that rueful, charming smile. The one that says he knows he’s a little bit in trouble but somehow he’ll talk himself out of it. As usual. “I won’t be gone for long, only a few months. Hey, I bet you could fly over for a weekend. Come to London or even better, Paris. We can explore the cities together.”
No offer to take me with him to live there—not that I’d go, especially since it’s temporary. But it could turn permanent and he might end up staying. We don’t know.
Would I leave to be with Zachary? Only if he promised that we would be married—and he vowed his complete fidelity. I feel safe here. Everything I know, my family, my friends, my career, is here. In New York. Not London or Paris. And what about the ring? The proposal?
It sounds terrible in my own head, but I expected that. A beautiful diamond solitaire ring accompanied by an offer of marriage, along with Zachary’s promise of undying love and faithfulness to me. A girl can tolerate only so much and I know it’s stupid, but . . . I love him.