Ch33 - Don’t cause him trouble

Before Violet could respond, Lydia was already talking, her tone bright and falsely warm. “Julian’s in the backyard with the others. Come on, I’ll grab you something to wear.”

She sounded friendly enough, but her eyes quietly scanned Violet from head to toe—smiling, yet full of silent judgment.

Violet’s loose, casual outfit hid every curve, her hair tied neatly in a ponytail. To someone seeing her for the first time, she might’ve looked more like a housekeeper than the wife of Julian Ashford.

Lydia bit back a laugh. If she weren’t halfway pretty, people would probably mistake her for staff.

“Thanks,” Violet said politely, unaware of the malice flickering behind Lydia’s smile. She followed her through the sprawling house, turning corner after corner, passing a massive living room before finally arriving at a large, nearly empty room.

One entire wall was covered in mirrors, giving the illusion of endless space. The rest was minimal—just a few decorative plants and two long, wheeled racks overflowing with bikinis and swimsuits in every color and cut imaginable. It looked like this room had been prepared specifically for the party.

Violet blinked, momentarily overwhelmed by all the bright fabrics and glittering straps.

Lydia smiled, walking over to one of the racks and brushing her hand across the hangers. “These just came in from the boutique—brand new, tags still on. Pick whichever you like and go change.”

Violet took a step forward, reaching for a light blue one-piece with elegant cutouts along the waist. It was modest but still flattering.

Then a hand stopped her mid-reach. Lydia arched a brow. “Oh, sorry. That one’s for a friend of mine who’s on her way.”

“I see… I’ll choose another,” Violet said calmly, pulling her hand back.

She reached for a different one, but Lydia was faster again, taking it off the rack before Violet could touch it.

Violet exhaled slowly and finally looked her in the eye. There wasn’t an ounce of apology in Lydia’s gaze.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Violet said, her tone even, “this is only our second time meeting.”

The first had been at her wedding. The second—now.

Lydia examined her nails lazily. “Yeah. So what?”

That was enough for Violet to piece it together. Being stopped at the gate earlier—of course that had been Lydia’s doing. But why such open hostility?

Lydia glanced at her, smirking. “You’re really something. Got Julian to throw a punch for you.”

Violet’s eyes widened slightly. “Throw a punch?”

“You mean you didn’t know?” Lydia tilted her head. “Your ex-boyfriend caused a scene at our lounge opening. He got kicked out but wouldn’t shut his filthy mouth about you—so Julian decked him. Right in front of everyone.”

Violet frowned. “I had no idea… I haven’t been in touch with Liam for a long time.”

“I don’t care whether you’re in touch or not.” Lydia’s tone sharpened. “Just make sure that loser stays the hell away. I might’ve felt bad for you before, but if you start dragging Julian into your messes again, that sympathy’s gone.”

Violet blinked, momentarily at a loss. After a pause, she said quietly, “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll talk to Julian about it.”

Lydia hesitated—clearly not expecting such a calm, unbothered response. Something about Violet’s composure irritated her. “No need to thank me. Julian and I have a… special relationship. I always look out for him.”

“I can tell you two are close,” Violet said softly.

Lydia’s smile turned smug. “You really don’t know, do you? He never told you?”

“No,” Violet replied honestly.

That made Lydia’s grin widen. “Julian and I practically grew up together. We’re… irreplaceable to each other. So if he didn’t even mention me to you—well, that says a lot, doesn’t it? Guess he’s not that in love with you.”

Love.

The word sat strangely on Violet’s tongue—foreign, almost unreal.

She thought of how, in the past, growing up starved of affection had made her too quick to mistake attention for love. Every kind word, every gentle gesture from a man had once felt like salvation. She used to believe she’d found “the one.”

But after being betrayed by both friends and family, she’d learned the hard way — affection always came with strings attached.

Now, when she needed Julian’s help, she knew how to play her part, how to please him when it served a purpose.

Violet froze for a moment, and Lydia chuckled softly. “Oh, don’t look so heartbroken. At least he gave you a title. He’s out there fighting battles, dealing with that devil of a stepmother—someone’s gotta handle the small domestic stuff, right? You just happened to fit the job description.”

Violet lowered her gaze, her eyes unreadable.

Lydia sighed dramatically. “Anyway, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Julian’s… complicated. I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t open up easily, and he’s said it himself—what he hates most are those soft, obedient types. They’re worse than the gold-diggers; they cling like ivy, and once they’re wrapped around you, you can’t get free.”

The room went quiet. Lydia sat there, smug and satisfied, as if she’d just scored a victory.

“You might not know me very well,” Violet said at last, meeting her gaze. “But I’m not ivy.”

“What?” Lydia’s brow lifted, surprised by the response. She gave Violet a quick once-over and smirked. 

“I don’t care what you are. Just don’t be another one of his clingy flings, or he’ll get sick of you fast. You should appreciate the position you’ve got—and don’t cause him trouble.”

Her tone dripped with superiority, the kind that made your skin crawl.

Violet didn’t want to keep arguing. She turned her attention back to the rack of swimsuits. “Then… which one am I allowed to wear?”

Lydia didn’t like being ignored. Her smile faltered, but pride kept her from snapping. With her chin tilted high, she pulled out a bikini and handed it over. “Here. This one.”

Violet took the swimsuit but hesitated, staring at it for a long moment—

Lydia waved a hand dismissively. “Get changed and head straight out—turn left, then just keep walking. You’ll find the courtyard.” She spun on her heel and walked off.

Violet stood alone, holding the white bikini. The pieces looked ridiculously small, barely enough to cover what needed covering.

–––

A few minutes later, Violet emerged. She’d let her hair down and ran her fingers through it before pulling on a bathrobe, tying it tightly around her waist.

Outside, the backyard glowed under strings of orange and white lights, warm against the autumn chill. Around twenty people mingled—half men, half women, most looking like couples. They were older than the crowd from the bar party; wealthier too, judging by the watches and laughter.

The swimming pool sat empty under the night air. Most of the guests gathered further back—music pulsed from a DJ booth, a chef flipped skewers at the grill, and the smoky scent of seared meat drifted through the air.

On the far right, two massive rectangular hot tubs bubbled invitingly. In one of them sat Julian, relaxed between two men, cigarette in hand, talking animatedly—he hadn’t yet noticed her.

A few strangers’ eyes flicked toward Violet as she passed.

Just as she was about to walk toward Julian, Lydia appeared again, her smile sweet and syrupy. “Go on, take off the robe,” she said cheerfully, pointing at Violet’s waist. “You can’t wear that in the hot tub anyway. Here—let me help.”

Before Violet could react, Lydia’s hands were already tugging at the belt—

—and with one sharp pull, the robe came undone.

The fabric slipped from Violet’s shoulders and fell open.

At that exact moment, Julian looked over.

The cigarette between his lips crushed flat with a snap.