“That I want the position.”
She looks shocked. Good. It’s rare when anyone can surprise her. “And what did he say?”
“‘Prove yourself, son.’ And that’s a direct quote.” I lean across the table, my gaze locked with Pilar’s. “So that’s what I plan on doing.”
A perfectly arched eyebrow rises. “How? By getting into Violet’s granny panties? Please. That little prude won’t let you even look at her. How do you think you’re going to get your dirty paws on her pristine body?”
I hadn’t thought that through yet. But it doesn’t matter. Once I focus on something, I always get what I want. At least now I do. When I was a kid, hell no. I begged. I stole. I fucked to get what I wanted. My past, though, just made me tougher. More determined.
And for whatever reason, just looking at Violet Fowler sitting there in her pretty little dress with her pretty little body, tolerating that asshole Lawrence while he ignores her and chats on the phone … makes me want to jump her. Show her what a real man could do for her.
I’d probably scare the shit out of her. Hell, I might enjoy scaring the shit out of her.
Clearly, I’m a twisted fuck.
“If her asshole boyfriend is leaving her behind, I’m sure I can figure something out.” I shrug. “She’ll be alone and vulnerable. Missing Lawrence. I can step in and ease her pain.”
“Ballsy, aren’t you?” Pilar murmurs. “And what about me? Am I supposed to sit by without protest while you’re out fucking another woman?”
“You have before. Plenty of times. Not like we’re committed.” Our relationship isn’t what I would call conventional. Our ties are there, but we’re not forever bound to each other. Pilar is a user.
So am I. It’s why we work so well together, both personally and professionally.
Lately, though, I’ve felt conflicted. I know I’m ready to end the sexual relationship with Pilar, but we have a history. She’s the only woman who ever took care of me, so I take care of her.
My mom disappeared when I was little and I don’t remember her. Dad was a semi-presence in my life until I was around fifteen, but he was never a real parent. More like a roommate. A man who brought whores around and passed me my first drink when I was barely twelve. A real stellar example of what a parent should be.
When Pilar walked into my life, took one look at me and decided I would become her personal little project, I was relieved. Fucking thankful.
I was nothing more than a stupid, dirty street kid, nineteen and with a minor drug problem, no job, and no place to live, when we first met. I slept on a park bench at night and hung out in Starbucks all day. At least it was warm. I could afford a tall coffee and a free glass of water. I nursed that shit all damn day. I didn’t care.
Pilar entered that Starbucks like she owned the place every single morning. Sometimes I saw her, sometimes I didn’t. One morning in particular, I caught her eye and she surveyed me like I was a bug under a microscope. She came closer to where I sat, peering at me. She’s older, beautiful, and radiates so much confidence that I was caught. Hell, I wanted to be caught.
She brought me home to clean me up. Her apartment was like a palace. Clean, with new furniture and food in the refrigerator and a toilet that flushed, with a shower that had hot running water and soft towels, a warm bed to sleep in at night. I was in heaven.
When she said she could get me a job where she worked as her assistant, I said yes. That job was more than anyone had ever given me before. The meals she provided? I ate more than I’d ever eaten in my entire fucking life. The first night I stayed with her, I threw up, I ate so much goddamn food. I remember thinking what a waste as I bent over the toilet and puked my guts out.
Nobody had ever wanted me. Nobody had ever given two shits about me. When no one has ever given you anything, not one thing in your life, and then someone comes along and gives you not only what you need, but what you want … you never forget it. What Pilar and I share, it’s not what I would call good.
But it’s more than I ever thought I’d be getting.
That she was interested in me had blown my mind. Made me want to work harder for her, prove that I could actually amount to something. She rewarded me, too. First with sex, and eventually with job opportunities, and I’ve proven my worth. Even though I don’t work directly under her anymore, supposedly I still owe her.
I’m ready, though, to have my debt paid in full.
“I won’t sit by and let you screw around with her. Have you lost your mind? Do you really believe by getting Violet Fowler in your bed, you’ll automatically get a promotion? Forrest Fowler is extremely protective of his daughters, you know. He’d probably chop your dick off if he found out you fucked his little girl,” Pilar points out. “Especially since she’s the damaged one of the bunch.”
The CEO of Fleur is overly protective of his two youngest daughters. The oldest one—Lily—is a walking disaster. A sexy one, too, who spent most of her time at parties half naked and drunk, gaining constant coverage on shitty gossip sites.
Violet is the restrained, fragile one. Rumor is she’d been admitted to a psych ward at one point. That their mother offed herself when the girls were young and Violet’s just like her. Vulnerable. Unstable.
A mess.
She’s the perfect victim. I could scoop her up and spit her out, no problem.
“I want to get in her good graces,” I say, because what the hell else can I say? I know Violet Fowler doesn’t give a shit about me. That I caught her staring at me a few minutes ago had surprised the hell out of me. “Besides, haven’t you always wanted to fuck around with Lawrence?”