CHAPTER HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN

SPENCER POV

I’m more tired than I can remember. Amusing though it is, I should be far too sensible to indulge in a crazy weekend of fucking on such little sleep. Still, I feel sated. Thoroughly sated.

      I feel blessed. Calm.

      Loved.

      A tap on my door, and my bright-eyed assistant steps in. She looks considerably fresher than I feel.

      “Morning,” I offer, and my tiredness fades into the background as I notice the box in her hands.

      “Morning, Mr Douglas.” Her smile is nervous. “I picked out that gift you wanted. Charge it to your expenses account on the weekend. I hope that’s okay,” she dithers in front of my desk, so unsure. “It was expensive…”

  I wave her concerns aside. “That’s great. Thank you.”

      She sighs, pretends to wipe her brow. And then she hands it over.

      The box is black leather with fine embossed lettering. It opens so smoothly in my hands.

  I watched as she stared at me as I stared at the gift she'd chosen. It’s beautiful. A perfect heart, so tasteful in its simplicity, twinkling with a delicate pink stone as an accent.

      “It’s platinum,” she says. “And that’s a real diamond…”

      “An excellent choice.”

      “I’m glad you like it.”

      I close the box, and meet her smile. “Thank you so much.”

      She hovers, and I stay quiet as she plucks up whatever courage she’s summoning. “Will she like it?”

      “I hope so,” I say.

      “She’s a lucky girl.”

      “I’m sure she’ll appreciate such a beautiful gift.” I wait for it, interested to see how bold she is with her questioning.

She keeps her eyes on the box. “Will she wear it to the Christmas party?”

      The Christmas party.

 I’ve barely given it a thought. It’s been merely a duty up until now. My attendance is a necessary annoyance as a senior partner of the practice.

 I imagine Violet on my arm this year, and the prospect is considerably more appealing.

      “I would think so.”

      Her eyes are so warm. “That’s great. What’s her name?”

      “Violet,” I say.

      “Violet,” she repeats. “I look forward to meeting her.”

      “I’m sure she’ll enjoy meeting you, too.”

      She makes to leave, but I call her back. “One more thing, if you will.”

      “Of course.”

      I open the gallery app on my phone and ping a copy of the butterfly picture to her inbox as she waits. “I’ve emailed you an image. I’d like it printed, please, a frame, too. I know you’ll find something just perfect.”

      “I’ll do my best, Mr Douglas.”

      I’m sure she will.     

My phone tells me it’s almost lunchtime as I drop it back onto my desk.

      I’ve just time to finish up my current report before it’s time to call Violet.

•

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VIOLET POV

Maggie Connor doesn’t bother speaking as we sit in the canteen. She knows the routine by now, knows he’ll be calling me any minute.

I dig in my bag for my phone, just like always. I like to be prepared for when his call comes in.

Only my phone isn’t in my bag this morning.

   I root around, as though searching all the harder will make it materialise out of thin air.

Maggie Connor sighs as she watches. “Left your fancy phone at home, did you? Daddy Spencer gonna be pissed you’re not at his beck and call.”

      She has no idea.

 I feel like such an ass for sleeping in and rushing so fast to make it up to him. I can imagine exactly where my phone is, still plugged in at the side of the bed, probably still chirping out the alarm that I snoozed ten times this morning. Shit.

      I feel pale, my mouth dry as paper.

      “Chill, Violet, it’s just a phone. No big deal.”

      But it is a big deal. He always calls at one on the dot. He likes to get hold of me, to check I’m okay.

      “He always calls…” I begin, like she has a hope of hell of understanding.

      “So?”

      “So, he always calls. It’s important.”

      She tuts at me. “So important. I’m sure he can wait a few hours for a status update on how yummy your sandwich was.”

      I wish I could explain, but there’s no way I will. I wish I could tell her how worried he’ll be, how much tragedy he’s been through. I wish I could tell her that keeping me safe is everything to Daddy Spencer.

 I try to figure a way to get hold of him, but the idea of calling him at the office practically brings on a panic attack. What would I even say? And would he be angry?

      More angry than he’ll be at me for forgetting my phone?

      I probably already made him late this morning, and now this. I feel like such an idiot.

Maybe he’ll punish me.

      The thought is right there, and so is the guilty flutter between my legs.

      I shouldn’t want that. I definitely shouldn’t want him to be mad at me. I am disappointed in myself.

      I wonder if he’ll use the belt his uncle used on him. I wonder how much it’ll hurt.

      Maybe he won’t.

      Maybe he’ll brush it off and tell me to be more careful next time.

      I doubt it. And I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing.

      “Chill, Violet, you look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” Maggie Connor sighs and takes a swig of her drink.

      The nerves are dancing in my tummy, and the tickles tickle between my legs. I feel sick, hot and cold and tingly all at once.

      “I shouldn’t have forgotten my phone,” I say.

      But Maggie Connor doesn’t care at all.