CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY

VIOLET POV

I’m going to Daddy Spencer’s work party and I can’t quite believe it. I’m so excited I could explode, and practically knock Maggie Connor off her feet as I grab her outside the college entrance.

      “I’m going to a ball!” I told her. “A real ball! With Spencer! He’s going to get me a pretty dress and I get to meet all his work colleagues. I’m really going to a ball!”

      She looks just as unimpressed as I expected, but that doesn’t matter. I just needed to say it out loud.

      “I hope he’s going to get you a pretty dress for my birthday party, too.”

      I could shrivel into nothing on the spot.

      I should’ve asked Daddy Spencer about Maggie Connor’s party, but last night just didn’t seem right. Not after I was in so much trouble for messing up already.

      “I’ll talk to him about it,” I tell her and she groans.

      “So you haven’t told him?”

      I shrug. “We were busy.”

      “Busy, right.” She folds her arms. “Too busy to be bothered with the most important day of my year.”

      She’s being a drama queen, and I can’t be bothered to pander to it anymore. “I’ll talk to him,” I say, and leave it at that.

      “Make sure you do,” she says. “Besties before guys, that’s the rule.”

      I fight the urge to laugh in her face.

      She’s never followed that rule in her life.

 •

•

SPENCER POV

My framed print of Violet is waiting on my desk. It’s perfect, just as I knew it would be. The frame is stylish and tasteful. A simple brushed silver lined with crackled pieces of blue shell that catch the light. It matches the blue of the butterfly magnificently.

      I poke my head around the door to give my assistant my thanks, and it startles her. “You’re welcome, Mr Douglas,” she says.

      I’m about to retreat to my workload when she spins on her chair. She digs around in her desk drawer and hands me a set of keys.

      “To the house you wanted fixing up,” she explains. “It’s all done. New locks, cleared of all the rubbish. I’ve had the walls freshly painted, and new floors laid where they couldn’t be salvaged, which was pretty much everywhere.” She pauses as she gathers her thoughts, mentally checking items off on her fingers. “I had to get new curtains for the living room and new blinds for the kitchen. Oh, and some new furniture. A new coffee table, sofa, and a couple of wardrobes. Oh, and some new cupboard doors for the kitchen units.”   

I turn the keys over in my hand. “Thank you. You’ve worked hard, I really appreciate it.”

 “That’s my job,” she says. It’s very far from being her job and we both know it. She hands over an inventory of work done, and a pen for me to sign it off. “Shall I charge it to your expenses?”

      I nod. “Please.”

      I sign without even checking the figures and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

      “It’s Violet’s house, right?” she questions.

      “It was Violet’s house.”

      Her smile is so friendly as she takes the documents back. “She’s so much better off where she is now,” she comments. “With you,” she adds, as though there was any confusion.

      “I’m glad you think so,” I tell her, and I am.

      I lock the keys in my desk drawer the minute I’m back in my office, and hope I never have cause to use them.

      I never want Violet to go back there.

      She belongs with me now.

Later that day, I contemplated telling her about the house as we drove home, but I couldn't find the words. For all the rational control I have over my life, I’m aware that life still holds so many insecurities. The vulnerability of loving someone so much you’re afraid of losing them. The vulnerability of Violet’s old life being a viable alternative to the one we share.

      She seems happy at my side, never any mention of the old house or how it’s doing.

      I suspect she’s keen to stay in blissful ignorance, just as I am to keep her that way.

      She glances in my direction. “Good day at the office?”

      “Yes,” I say. “My assistant had the butterfly picture of you framed for me. It’s on my desk.”

      “It is? Really?”

      “Really.”

      She giggles. “Now I can stare at you all day, even when I’m not with you.”

      “I like you staring at me, especially when I’m staring back.”

      “Me too,” she says.     

She’s surprisingly quiet as I make dinner, pretending as usual to be absorbed in some assignment while her pen tap taps at her notepad. Something’s clearly on her mind, and I wonder whether she’s still fretting over her punishment last night.

      “I need to ask you something,” she tells me finally, and I stop stirring the pan to listen. “It’s Maggie Connor’s birthday on Saturday. She wants me to go. Out, I mean. Clubbing.”

      She’s under no illusion as to what I think of Maggie Connor. Her pen taps all the faster.

      “Clubbing?”

      She nods. “Some drum and bass club on the beach front. I’ve told her I’m only interested in going for a couple of drinks.”

  “Maggie Connor leads you into trouble, Violet,” I tell her.

      “I know. But this time I won’t let her.”

   “It sounds to me as though your mind is already made up.”

      “I won’t go…” she says. “Not if you don’t want me to. I’ll tell her I can’t.”

      “Do you want to go, Violet?” I keep my eyes on hers as I wait for her answer.

She shrugs, a usual response. “She’s my friend. My only friend. I always go out with her for her birthday.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

      She sighs. “I think I should go.”

      “Should and want are two very different things, sweetheart.”

      “She’s my friend,” she repeats. “She’ll be so sad if I don’t.”

      I very much doubt Maggie Connor has either the capacity or the loyalty to give a shit whether Violet is there or not after a couple of tequilas, but I keep that to myself.

      “I’ll need to know you’re safe,” I tell her, and she smiles.

      “I’ll stay safe, I promise.”

      “Midnight,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you at midnight, on the front by the pier. She walks you back to the car, and makes sure you keep your phone with you.”

      “I will.” Her grin is so bright. “Thank you, Daddy Spencer. I didn’t think you’d let me go.”

      “It isn’t a case of letting you do anything, sweetheart. You’re free to make your own decisions, I’m just here to keep you safe.”

      “You do keep me safe,” she says. “I never felt safe until I found you.”

      I only hope it stays that way.

      I dish up our meal without another word.