Ch50 - Apologize

When Violet got home, the warmth of the place seemed to melt straight into her bones. She took the cup of tea Mrs. Jones handed her — the faint scent of rose drifted up immediately, and her cold fingers started to thaw around the porcelain.

“The heating in the master bedroom’s been upgraded,” Mrs. Jones reported in her usual precise tone. “It’s automatic now — keeps the temperature stable without drying the air. We also added a humidifier by the bed and stocked a few different fragrance blends. If you have a preferred scent, just let me know.”

“Thank you. That’s… really thoughtful.” Violet gave the cup a gentle squeeze. Something about Mrs. Jones felt different tonight — her face was still the same perfectly composed mask, but her voice carried an unexpected softness.

At a small nod from Julian, Mrs. Jones gave a polite bow and left the room.

He cleared his throat. “Next month, you’re coming to Germany with me.”

“Germany?” she asked, looking up. “Is it for work?”

“No. Personal,” he said. “But to my stepmother — we’ll call it a honeymoon trip.”

Violet paused, then nodded. “Alright. Got it.”

When he didn’t move, she tilted her head. “Is there… something else?”

He spun his phone between his fingers, eyes half-lidded. “Lydia asked me to dinner tomorrow. If you’re not working late, come along.”

The last thing Violet wanted was another awkward dinner with Lydia — but since he’d said it himself, she didn’t have much choice.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll be there.”

——

Violet clocked out right at six and headed straight for the car Julian had arranged. The address was for a high-end Michelin-starred restaurant. She’d changed out of her loose work clothes before leaving the studio, swapping them for a soft silk dress and a pair of heels.

When she arrived, the place was exactly what she’d imagined — luxurious, but with a certain mood.

The lights were low and warm, filtered through frosted glass pendants that hung from the ceiling like tiny glowing orbs. Every table sat under its own little pool of golden light, just enough to see the person across from you — close, intimate.

It didn’t take a genius to guess why Lydia had picked this place.

While Violet was still taking it in, Julian appeared beside her, his palm resting lightly at her waist. “Come on,” he said. “She’s already here.”

The heat of his hand seeped through the fabric, making her body stiffen for a second. The faint, tingling warmth that followed felt dangerously distracting, so she forced herself to focus, following his stride into the restaurant.

Lydia was already seated at a reserved corner table, holding up a compact mirror to check her makeup. She fussed with a lock of hair until it framed her face just right, then smiled at her own reflection before snapping the mirror shut.

The sound of polished shoes approaching made her turn — her expression brightened instantly when she saw Julian, the dim light sharpening his already handsome features.

“You’re here!” she said cheerfully, standing to greet him — until her eyes flicked past him and landed on the splash of rose-pink fabric behind him. Her smile froze. “Why is she here?”

Her tone sharpened as she glared at Violet. “I invited Julian to dinner. Why did you tag along?”

Julian’s voice was calm, almost lazy. “I asked her to come. You said you wanted to apologize, didn’t you?”

Lydia’s breath hitched. She knew exactly what he meant. He might not have said it out loud that night at the villa, but they both knew she was involved in what happened. Which meant her apology wasn’t just for him — it was for Violet, too.

Her jaw tightened, but she forced a sweet smile back onto her face. Violet’s presence had thrown off both her mood and her plan, but she swallowed it down. “Please, sit,” she said smoothly.

Julian pulled out a chair for Violet, even adjusting her skirt so it wouldn’t snag as she sat. The small gesture burned in Lydia’s eyes, and the fake smile on her lips stiffened as her fingers clenched beneath the table.

She exhaled softly, pretending to relax. “Let’s do the chef’s tasting menu,” she suggested. “And open a bottle of wine?”

“Fine by me,” Julian replied simply.

As the waiter left, Lydia dropped her gaze to her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. A few moments later, she smirked — the tension gone, replaced by a sly, satisfied look that made the corner of her lips curl upward.

When the wine finally came, the sommelier presented the bottle with a polite smile, poured a small tasting into each of their glasses, and waited for a nod before decanting it slowly. Once the deep red liquid flowed smoothly into the crystal decanter, Lydia reached out to take it from the waiter herself.

She leaned forward — a little too far — as she poured into Julian’s glass, her voice sugar-sweet. “You know me, I always speak before I think. I was just panicking that day, and I said things I shouldn’t have. You’re not the kind to hold grudges, right?”

Julian ignored the flirtatious glint in her eyes, glancing instead at Violet’s empty glass.

Lydia followed his gaze and reluctantly shifted the decanter toward Violet. “I should apologize to you too,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sorry for making such a fool of myself. Hope you’ve forgotten all about that little… incident.”

Julian tilted his head slightly, waiting for Violet to make the first move.

She got the hint, lifted her glass gracefully, and said, “There’s really nothing to forgive. Julian’s friends are my friends too.”

She took a small sip of wine to seal the gesture.

Lydia’s smile faltered for half a second, but she kept it in place.

“Of course we are. We’re all friends here—no reason to hold grudges, right?” Her tone dripped with sweetness that barely hid the bite underneath.

She turned to Julian, searching his face for a reaction.

Julian finally lifted his glass, voice even. “It’s settled then. What’s done is done. Let’s drop it and eat.”

Lydia arched a brow, set the decanter down, and sat back in her seat. As the dishes arrived one by one, her eyes flicked over Violet’s dress.

“That dress is gorgeous—Michelle’s new season, isn’t it?”

Violet dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I think so. I’m not really into fashion.”

Lydia smiled, head tilting. “That’s fine. I know a thing or two about it. We should go shopping sometime—talk style.”

She turned to Julian, eyes glinting. “You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your wife for that, would you?”

Julian glanced at the bottle. “You’ve had enough, Lydia. Pace yourself.”

Lydia laughed, touching her flushed cheeks. “Maybe a bit too much, yeah. I’ll go freshen up — don’t miss me too much.” She grabbed her clutch and phone, her heels wobbling slightly as she left.

The moment she disappeared, Violet’s shoulders finally dropped a little. Julian noticed and reached over, his hand landing on her shoulder. His thumb rubbed slow, easy circles. “Thanks for putting up with her. She’s got a bit of a temper, but she’s been helpful in the past.”

Instead of relaxing, Violet’s shoulders stiffened under his touch. “I know,” she said quietly. “She’s useful to you — and a close friend.”

She didn’t look at him as she spoke, her face turned toward the side.

Julian leaned back in his chair, his eyes tracing the smooth line of her neck and back. For a fleeting moment, an image flashed — that dream, the one that had been haunting him for nights.

Before he realized it, his hand brushed the back of her neck.

Violet flinched, instantly lifting a hand to the spot he’d touched.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back, voice steady but low.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They sat there, quietly sipping their wine, barely touching the food.

When Lydia returned, she’d just ended a phone call. The first thing she saw was the distance between them — Julian staring straight ahead, Violet turned toward the window.

She walked up with a bright, fake smile. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the food? Should I ask the kitchen to send out a few more dishes?”

“No need,” Julian said, setting down his glass. “We’re about done here.”

“What? You’re leaving already? That’s no fun.” Lydia pouted, placing her hand on the table — then slid something across to him. A folded note.

Julian glanced down, picked it up, and his expression immediately darkened. “You don’t need to pass notes. Violet’s not an outsider. You can speak freely.”

Lydia didn’t flinch this time. Her tone turned serious. “It’s about Munich. The fewer people who know, the better. You know how ruthless she can be.”

The “she” was clearly Serena — Julian’s stepmother.

He frowned. “Ten minutes.”

“That’s plenty,” Lydia said, her lips curving faintly. She stood and added, “I’ll be upstairs.”

Julian turned to Violet, giving her hand a small, reassuring pat. “Wait here. I’ll just talk to her for a bit.”