Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
He grins. “I’m a big boy, can handle myself.”
“So you’re saying you don’t miss me?”
He walks over, leaning down and kissing my forehead. “I miss you every fuckin’ second.”
I beam as he leaves.
An hour later, after two coffees and zero attempt at making myself look good, I step into the office. The air vibrates with hushed conversations and clicking keyboards. Sally, tall, sleek in a pinstripe suit, snaps her fingers by my elbow. “There’s a guy here, for business he said. You’ve helped him out before. He’s in the conference room.” She smooths her hair, then leads me into the conference room.
My heart skids to a stop.
He’s there. Jeremy Willis. His cold blue eyes lock on mine and a slow, mocking grin spreads across his face. “Hello, Violet. Long time.”
My world tilts. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. My legs go limp. I press a shaky hand against the doorframe. “Jeremy...what are you—why are you here?”
Sally steps forward. “You two know each other well?”
Nausea explodes in my stomach. I spin away, adrenaline and panic fueling my flight. I burst into the women’s restroom and collapse to my knees in front of the stalls. My fingers claw at my skirt. My vision blurs. Bile rises. This can’t be happening. It can’t. Why is he here? Why now? Why today?
I stay curled on the cold tile until Sally’s voice cracks through the door an hour later. “Violet, we have a problem. Can I come in?”
I don’t look up.
I can’t.
She opens the door anyway, stepping into the ladies' room. “Just tell me,” I breathe.
“He told me to tell you that he’s trying to charge you—for manslaughter.”
My heart stops. “What?”
No.
Why would he come now?
Why would he do this years later?
“He says you killed his sister.”
The room spins. My mouth floods. “It was an accident. It...I didn’t...”
Sally drops beside me, hands on my shoulders, gentle. “He’s a creep. I’ll figure this out, we have the best lawyers in this building. We will help you.”
I stare onto the tiled floor, trying not to think about how dirty it is. “He nearly beat me to death years ago.”
Her fingers curl into mine. “That’s helpful. Records?”
I nod. “County hospital. They’ll have every detail.”
She exhales. “Let’s go back to my office, I’m going to need you to tell me everything.”
I stand, and then we slowly make our way back to her office. Once I have sat down, calmed myself, I tell her about the night he found me alone, about the blood, the broken bones, the terror. And as the words pour out, I steel myself for the battle ahead.
Because I know it’s not going to be an easy one.
8
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” REAGAN’S voice cracks as she yanks me into a vice-like grip on my shoulders.
“Yes. Please don’t tell Travis. I have to sort this out myself.”
Her eyes go wide. “Are you in danger?”
“No, but Jeremy’s back for revenge, and he’s playing it smart. If he lays a hand on me, he’ll end up in jail. But if he manages to win this, I could go away for a really long time.”
Reagan’s lips press into a thin line. “I hate this, Vi. You need to talk to someone.”
I swallow the knot of dread tightening in my chest. “I know, and I will, I just can’t do it tonight. Tonight is about Travis, and we’re here to have fun.”
She nods, then breaks out into a smile, as if clinging to any spark of brightness. “I do love this limo.”
I manage a shaky smile.
“Does Trav make you travel in this so he knows where you are?”
“Most likely, he has that possessive streak, not creepy though, I hope.”
She laughs. “Travis Phoenix can be possessive and jealous if he likes, because he’s hot enough to do so.”
“Apparently,” I laugh.
“You lucky bitch, in his arms. I live for that man.”
I nod, breathless. “Me too.”
My phone buzzes. I glance down.
T: See you soon?
“Trav?” Reagan leans closer.
I nod. “Yeah.”
V: I’m already on my way.
T: How was your day?
I consider deflection, then choose honesty.
V: It was okay.
T: Just okay?
V: Just okay, rockstar. See you soon.
T: Later, baby x
We arrive at the packed venue. The roar of the crowd rattles my ribs. I don’t get a second with Travis before he hits the stage, but I feel his presence like electricity when he appears. Shirtless, black jeans shredded, his body gleaming under blue spotlights. My heart hammers. He drops to his knees, slides across the stage, and we all surrender.
I scream, dance, cheer—play the devoted fan. Reagan sways beside me, drinks in hand. Then a woman shimmies up to the stage for the finale. She presses against him, fingers tracing his spine like she's done this a hundred times before—another choreographed moment in his carefully staged performance. He leans in as the music swells, their lips meet beneath the spotlight's harsh glare. He doesn't push her away. The crowd roars its approval while my stomach plummets, a free-fall through ice.