“You never know. There were all sorts of unsavory people in Cannes.” Violet mock shudders. “One man tried to hit on me. I had to hold back Ryder for fear he would beat his face in if I let him go.”
I love it. Ryder is so possessive of Violet. Not in a creepy, controlling way but in a he-loves-her-so-much-he-can’t-live-without-her way. “Wish I could’ve seen that.”
“No. Really you don’t,” Violet says drolly, just as she reaches out and snatches the pen from my fingers. “You’re driving me crazy. Why don’t you go see what Ryder’s up to?” His office is only a few doors down from hers.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I’m slightly offended, not that I should blame Violet. I’m not in the mood to work. Knowing that I’m walking away from Fleur for a while—I hope temporarily, but maybe Daddy will be so furious he’ll make it permanent—isn’t helping my attitude.
“You don’t seem like you’re much in the mood to work.” Violet tilts her head toward me, reaching up to play with the diamond stud in her ear. A nervous little habit she has; I recognize it immediately. “What’s going on with you, Rose? You’ve been acting … odd ever since Cannes.”
Sighing, I lean back in my chair, wondering if I can confide in Violet and know that she won’t run off and tell our father. “I don’t know. It’s just … it’s been hard, not having you around at Fleur.”
Violet’s expression is one of immediate guilt and her hand drops from her ear, landing with a thud on top of her desk. “I probably should’ve never left.”
“No, no. I’m not saying that.” Reaching out, I set my hand over hers. “You definitely should’ve come here. Look at how great you and Ryder are doing. It’s amazing, our gains within the UK market. Daddy’s so proud of you.”
Violet grimaces. She hates when I call him Daddy. Their relationship is strained at best. Funny, considering how much praise he heaps on her. “So why is it so difficult without me there?”
“Pilar.” I practically spit her name out. The way Violet’s eyes darken, the sudden scowl on her face, I know I’ve touched a nerve. Doesn’t help that the love of her life used to sleep with Pilar. Ick. “Daddy’s going to promote her.”
“Promote her into what position?” Violet appears outraged, which I love. That’s exactly the reaction I’m looking for. I want a partner in my anger. I’ve felt too alone for far too long.
I shrug. Does it really matter? She’s getting exactly what she wants because our father is so twisted up over her. “Not sure yet. Rumors are circulating and I’m fairly certain she’s behind them. Daddy’s not denying it, either.”
“So you don’t know for sure yet—”
“Come on,” I interrupt her. “You know he’ll promote her. He’s completely enamored of her. She can do no wrong.”
“Well, she’s always been good at her job,” Violet points out.
“Don’t defend her!” I slap my hand against the edge of the desk, startling Violet so much she practically jumps in her seat. “She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a snake in the grass and you know it. She tried to destroy your relationship with Ryder—more than once, I might add. She helped break you and Zachary up, not that that was a bad thing, but you know what I mean. She’s … hell-bent on getting whatever she wants and she doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”
Violet leans back in her chair, her lips a thin line, her fingers nervously turning her diamond earring again and again. “You don’t have to yell at me,” she murmurs.
“And you don’t have to say such nice things about her, either.” I make a face, my tone going snotty. “‘Oh, she’s so wonderful at her job. She’s perfect.’ Barf.” I roll my eyes. Only with Violet can I be so real, so open with my feelings. No way could I act like this with anyone else.
At least my sister has Ryder. He sees the real Violet, just like I do. He probably sees even more of her true self and no matter how much I try to tell myself it’s ridiculous, that little fact makes me jealous.
Stupid but true.
“Tell me how you really feel about her,” Violet says dryly.
“No, you tell me how you really feel about her,” I retort, wanting to know. Needing to know. “And be honest, Violet.”
Sighing, Violet closes her eyes briefly, dropping both of her hands into her lap. “Fine. You’re right. She’s awful. She’ll be sweet to your face and connive behind your back. She’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants. I hate the connection Ryder has to her, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You don’t think …” My voice trails off and I can hardly get out my next words. My sister has dealt with enough crap in her life. All I want is for her to be happy. “He’s not still interested in her, is he?”
“Oh my God, no. He’s not interested in anyone else but me,” Violet says firmly, that dreamy glow back in her eyes, the one she always gets when she talks about Ryder. “He’s in love with me. I know she can’t stand that, but there’s nothing she can do to change it. We’re engaged. We’re getting married.”
A smile curls my lips despite the unpleasant source of this conversation. “I’m so happy for you, Violet. Seriously. You’re going to get married.”
“I know. To Ryder.” Her smile is dreamy too. It matches the look in her eyes. “I still can’t believe he’s mine. I don’t think Pilar can believe it either, though why she’s worried about him when she’s involved with our father, I’ll never get.”
I wave my hand. “Let’s stop talking about her. I can’t stand it anymore.” My mind races to change the subject, but Violet beats me.
“So what’s going on with you?” she asks quietly. “I feel like there’s more you’re not saying.”
Dipping my head, I stare at my hands as I grip my knees. I don’t know what to tell her. I’m torn. “I’m unhappy at Fleur.”
“Because of Pilar.”
“Because of a lot of things, not just Pilar.” Things I can’t even really name, but my unhappiness is there. A living, breathing thing I can’t avoid. Seeing Pilar’s smug face every day as she walks by my office, hanging on Daddy’s arm, just fuels my misery. I swear she knows it, too, which sucks. She makes me feel young. Stupid. Impotent in my authority at Fleur, if I even have any. My position there is superfluous at best. The only reason I have it is because my last name is Fowler, and Pilar never lets me forget it. I thought after Violet left that could be my moment to break out and shine, but Pilar took over the spotlight instead. “I need a break.”
“Oh, Rose.” I jerk my head up to meet her gaze, seeing the disappointment etched all over her face. “Don’t let her drive you away. Fleur is yours, not hers. It’s ours. Pilar is just jealous that she’s not a Fowler.”
Spot-on as usual. “It would be really easy for her to become a Fowler by marrying Daddy,” I say.
Violet’s eyes widen and she rests her fluttering hand over her chest. “You don’t think he would … he would do that, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think about him anymore.” Or our mother. I still haven’t told Violet what I discovered in the diary. Her last entries were vague, but I read enough to figure out what she was thinking just before she took her own life.
And it’s not good.
“They haven’t been dating long.”
“Long enough for her to be staying the night most of the week at his place.”
Violet scowls. “He won’t marry her.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, feeling like a spoiled little girl. I swear sometimes I revert back to my childish ways when I’m with Violet. Really it’s just the both of us falling back into our respective roles.
“You know what you need? A change of scenery.” She points her index finger at me, her gaze narrowed. “Come work with us for a few weeks.”
I’m incredulous at her suggestion. “Here? In London?”
“Yes, I know … I know it’s sort of last minute, but I would love to have you here. For two weeks, a mont
h, what do you think? I’ll call Father and let him know you want to stay here for a while. I’m sure he’ll be on board.”
Hope rises within me and I try to squash it down. “Do you really think he will be? And are you sure you want me here with you?”
“I miss you too, you know,” she admits softly. “Ryder and I don’t plan on leaving London anytime soon, so it would be great to have you here. I could show you around the city, we could go shopping.”
I start to laugh. “I thought you wanted me here to work.”
“Well, we can call it that.” Violet shrugs. “And you’ll come into the office and work when you want, no pressure. We can also go visit the Paris office if you want. Oh, Rose. You should stay here. I know Father will approve. He wanted this for me, to spread my wings and work at other Fleur locations. I know he’ll want the same for you.”
I’m not so sure about that, but I don’t want to argue with Violet. Besides, I love her idea. I want to take her up on her offer. “But what about Ryder?”
She frowns. “What about him?”
“Will he want me around, staying at your place? I’m sure he’d prefer privacy.”
Violet actually blushes. I’m sure their sex life is off the charts, not that I want to think about it. But with a handsome man like Ryder, who fairly vibrates with all that pent-up sexual edginess, I can only imagine what he must do for Violet. To Violet.
Jealous again.
“Am I right?” I prod.
Violet shrugs. “It’s only for a month. And he adores you.”
Even if that’s true, they’ll want their privacy. “I should go back to New York.” I sigh and shake my head, my gaze going to the window to my right. All of London is spread out before us, an endless view of nothing but buildings and British flags, the sky a brilliant blue scattered with fluffy white clouds. It’s a perfect late spring day in the city and I have the sudden urge to go outside. Run around and pretend I have zero responsibilities, at least for a little while.
“No,” Violet says vehemently. “Stay here with me. Back in New York, you’re restless. Unhappy. And that’ll only lead you into trouble.”
I frown. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“The way you behaved at the premiere, it was so unlike you. First there’s the dress. Have you seen the papers, by the way? Talk about a scandal.”
My stomach sinks. I haven’t seen the papers. I’ve avoided them. “Is it that bad?”
“Probably worse.” She rolls her eyes and reaches into her desk drawer, pulling out one of the tabloids that are so popular here. She tosses it across the desk so that it lands in front of me with a plop. “They’re saying you’re giving Lily a run for her money.”
I barely glance at the photo on the front of the paper. That I actually made the very front of the Daily Mail’s gossip page is both thrilling and horrifying. Finally I’m recognized for being me, though they have to mention Lily too, of course. And huh. It’s not the most flattering article either, showcasing the fashion faux pas at Cannes yesterday. Great. “I can’t believe you waited this long to bring it up.”
“I didn’t want to upset you. I’m upset enough already.”
My gaze drops to the photo of me on the red carpet, both of my legs on blatant display what with the slits up to my hip bones. I look … amazing, and completely exposed. The necklace glitters around my throat, the pink stones vibrant against my skin. “Did Grandma see this?”
“I don’t know. She’s probably only just landed in New York since her flight was after ours.” Violet snatches the paper away from me and shoves it back into her desk drawer. “You’re lucky no one found out about your mysterious man who felt you up after you skinny-dipped in the pool,” she retorts.
Leaping to my feet, I glare at her, anger coursing through my veins. “I thought you wouldn’t judge.” I should never have told her what happened. I didn’t give her all the details, but I did let it slip that I stripped off my dress and jumped into the pool.
Her words ring in my head and I feel foolish. I don’t measure up. I’m in Lily’s and Violet’s shadows and I hate it. The biggest obstacle I’ve ever had to overcome is being their baby sister. They’ll always be ahead of me, no matter what I do or what I say.
Being the youngest sucks.
“I worry about you, Rose,” Violet says, her voice steady, her demeanor calm. She folds her hands together on top of the desk, looking every inch the successful businesswoman. While I’m the floundering, trying-to-find-my-place Fowler sister. Clearly I’m the only one worked up here. “I was afraid something like this would happen, what with the flashy dress and wearing that necklace.”
“You’re jealous of the necklace, aren’t you? You hate that Grandma gave it to me and not you,” I throw out, trying to hurt her the way she’s hurting me.
And it works. Somewhat. She flinches at my accusation but otherwise, no reaction. “I don’t care about the necklace.”
“You so do.”
“I’m concerned about your behavior and how you’re acting, not the stupid necklace,” she says, her voice rising the slightest bit. She’s angry now.
Good. I’m angry too.
“Did you ever think I’m just acting like … me?”
Leaning back in her chair, she frowns. “Rose …”
“I’m serious. Maybe I’m just being myself, you know? I’ve always been in your shadow or Lily’s shadow, and I’ve never done anything on my own. Just for me.” I grab my purse from where I set it on the floor by my chair and start to exit her office.
“Rose, don’t go,” she calls, and I pause in front of the closed door, my hand resting on the handle. “Stay and talk to me.”
With a sigh, I glance at her over my shoulder, offering her a pitiful smile. “There’s nothing left to discuss. I just … I need to be alone for a little bit, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, looking contrite. She doesn’t like to fight and neither do I. “You’ll come over for dinner tonight?”
I’m staying at a hotel for the next few nights but if I do decide to prolong my stay in London, do I really want to move in with my sister and her boyfriend? “Are you cooking?” I ask cautiously. Violet can’t cook. None of us can.
“No, we’re getting takeout. From this great little Indian restaurant that’s not too far from our flat. Ryder would eat there seven days a week if I let him,” Violet explains, amusement tingeing her voice.
“Fine. Yes. I’ll come to dinner. See you later.” I hurry out of her office before she says something else and convinces me to stay with her.
I want to be alone right now. So I can try to process my turbulent thoughts.
Not that I have much faith in myself at the moment.
Chapter Four
Caden
“So how long do you plan on staying with me?” Whitney purrs, wrapping her arms around my neck, her fingers diving into my hair. I’ve barely shut the door and she’s already pressed her body against me, her hips nudging mine.
I disentangle myself from her grip. The woman is like an octopus, hands everywhere, all at once. “I don’t know,” I tell her, dropping my bag on the floor right by the front door. “A few weeks? Maybe a month?”
The smile on her face is nothing short of pleased. I’ve been friends with Whitney Banks for what feels like forever. More like since we were little kids and we went to the same private school together. Her banker father—always loved that their last name is Banks, so fitting—got a job transfer just before junior high ended and she moved with her family to London. We would see each other on occasion when she came back to the States and one night, while she was in New York the summer after we graduated high school, we were at a party together and got drunk.
And we had sex.
Ever since then, whenever we see each other—which is rare—we usually end up fucking. I’m never with anyone and neither is she. We both have zero interest in relationships, but our friendship with a little fucking on the side works quite nicel
y.
Though right now I’m exhausted. The last thing I want to do is fuck. I need a shower first. And then a nap.
Whitney, on the other hand, appears raring to go.
“Put your bag in my room.” She comes for me once more, her arms going around my waist this time as she tips her head back, waiting for my kiss. I dutifully deliver it, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.
“You don’t want me in your room,” I murmur against her perfectly glossed pink lips.
Whitney smiles, her hands slipping down to grip my ass. “Oh, I definitely want you in my room. Easy access.” She is beautiful and she knows it. Perfect blond hair cut into a fashionable bob, plump lips, sparkling blue eyes, and a willowy body that can wear just about anything. She’s usually clad in as little clothing as possible and can get away with it, since she’s more on the slender than the curvy side.
I think immediately of Rose Fowler’s curves. She has a woman’s body. Full breasts, nipped-in waist, and rounded hips, and her ass is a perfect handful. Hard to believe I walked away from her like I did.
Not that I had a choice. I needed to get out of there. The lynch mob didn’t find me, thank God, and while I heard rumblings about the bracelet being stolen, there was no public notice made.
The rich do not like to talk about their goods being stolen—I discovered this early on in my so-called career. They’d rather sweep the embarrassing loss under the rug, collect their insurance payout, and move on. Dire stories on the local news about a jewel thief aren’t becoming, which is fine by me.
Their lack of talking to the authorities made my endeavors easier to carry out. Though I’m disappointed I didn’t get ahold of the Poppy Necklace. I’ve already heard from Dexter, my old contact who wants to add the piece to his collection. He’s displeased and has been urging me to go after it, but I put him off.
I stayed on in Cannes for a few days, cashing in the bracelet and collecting a hefty payment. Found out Rose Fowler left Cannes the day after I saw her, so that was a lost cause. I hung out on the beaches and flirted with various women, snagging a few gold pieces that were worth a decent amount. I garnered enough to pay for Mom’s expenses for the next five months at least, maybe six.