To my dismay and relief, most of the dinner passed with Violet making conversation with the barrister to her right. I wasn’t sure I’d ever spoken to him. I thought his name was Robert. What could he be saying that was so bloody fascinating?
As pudding was served, the emcee of the evening introduced himself and made a few less-than-funny jokes. Then he told us about the obligatory charity raffle and how we had to write our names on a twenty-pound note and put it in one of the gold envelopes that sat next to our centerpiece in the middle of the table.
I sighed and took out my wallet and pen from my inside jacket. I removed two twenty-pound notes and placed them flat on the table.
Violet’s bag was on her lap and she was rummaging through it. I placed my hand over hers. “I have yours,” I said.
She looked at me, her eyes a little wide. “I’m sure I have—”
“Violet, you don’t pay for your own raffle ticket. There are many things about the bar that are old-fashioned and sexist, but this is just manners. Look,” I said, nodding toward the other side of the table. “Lance is paying for Craig and Jimmy’s ticket. This is how it works.”
She sighed and closed her bag. “Thank you.”
“It’s just—”
“How it works. I know. I’m not taking it personally.”
It wasn’t personal, but for some reason I wished it could be. I’d like her to feel special, because she was special.
I pushed the purple notes into the envelope and passed it to my left. All around the table, everyone was talking, occupied and not looking at me or Violet. I ran my fingers over the knee exposed by the slit in her dress. “You look beautiful tonight.” What was I doing?
She sucked in a breath. “Alexander. We agreed.”
I nodded. We had, and it had been the right thing to do for a thousand reasons.
Still, I slid my fingers further up her leg. It was involuntary. I couldn’t help myself. There were all these reasons to stop but they were powerless against this urge I had, the desire she created in me.
Violet placed her hand over mine. “Alexander.”
“You don’t want this?” I asked, trying my best to look as if we were just swapping small talk. “You don’t feel this . . . energy between us?” Jesus, I sounded trite and pathetic. I’d just never felt this connection with a woman before, and having her this close to me was diluting all the reasons I had to keep away from her.
“I do. And that’s a problem.” She looked at me from under her lashes. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead.” She glanced around the room as if she were looking for an exit. “Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said, my hand drifting from her leg as she stood.
I ate my pudding as I watched her weave in and out of tables before she met Jimmy coming toward her. They stopped and talked and she became more animated with him than she had been with me. Her smile was wide and a couple of times she threw her head back and laughed. Did she find him attractive? Was she flirting with him? No doubt he was flirting with her—he had a penis and from what I could tell was straight, and really, who the hell wouldn’t flirt with Violet King? She was gorgeous.
The hair at the back of my neck bristled. Jimmy needed to let her go or I’d fire him, punch him, or otherwise make a fool of myself.
Eventually he came back to the table and my urge to connect my fist with his chin subsided.
I needed to get myself under control. I was all over the place. I was letting my dick rule my head. Violet had been clear—whatever had happened between us wasn’t going to reoccur. It wasn’t as if I was going to sit next to her at an awards ceremony every week. We’d arranged things so I wouldn’t even have to see her in the office.
I stood, familiar self-control and discipline running through my veins. I rounded the table before stopping next to Lance. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to excuse myself. I’ve just had a call about an emergency injunction.”
Lance turned. “Of course. Good luck, my boy.”
“Thank you, Lance. See you in the morning.”
I made my way out of the ballroom, staring straight ahead, determined not to seek out one last glance of Violet King.
Violet
I’d had to excuse myself from the table. Alexander’s touch was like quicksand and I needed to escape before I gave in and he swallowed me up. I left the ladies’ room braver and headed back to the table. Ordinarily, I’d have been more than encouraging of a man as tall, brooding, and sexy as Alexander coming on to me, even if he was an arrogant asshole. I wasn’t in the habit of turning good sex down, but for the first time in my life a warning bell had gone off in my head when it came to Knightley, which was why I suggested we keep things professional. There were practical reasons around working with him, which meant it was a bad idea to continue our physical relationship, not least because I didn’t want to cause Darcy any embarrassment but more than that, something instinctive was telling me to keep away. I was enjoying being in London—focusing on myself and considering my future. I didn’t want anything to mess that up. And there was something in the way Knightley looked at me, touched me, in the way my body melted under his fingers, that told me he could be trouble. And I wouldn’t allow a man to make trouble for me. Not again.
Alexander wasn’t at the table. Had he come looking for me? I sat back down and twisted to face the stage as the emcee introduced the next category.
Fifteen minutes passed. Alexander hadn’t come back to the table and listening to a bunch of people I didn’t know win awards I didn’t care about wasn’t the most exciting thing I’d ever done. I wanted to fast forward to the Chambers of the Year category.
One of the other barristers who was sitting three seats down from me moved to Alexander’s chair. “So, Violet, we’ve not met. I’m Charlie.” There was a hint of camp to his voice, but I wasn’t convinced he was gay. It could’ve been a British thing.
“Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
“It’s an absolute pleasure. You look fantastic this evening. Elie Saab, is it?” he asked, staring down toward my cleavage.
Yes, definitely gay. A straight man wouldn’t know the designer.
“Isn’t it funny how whether we’re gay or straight, men just love beautiful women?” he asked.
I laughed. “I’m not sure I can comment.”
“Well, you are gorgeous,” he said, unashamedly fixated. He sighed. “I hear you’ve tamed our Mr. Knightley.”
Uncomfortable with his change in subject, I pursed my lips. I didn’t often feel uncomfortable, but I felt loyalty toward Knightley and I didn’t want Charlie to think I was going to sit here and bitch about him. At the same time, I didn’t want to look like the stupid girl with a crush by saying he was a joy to work with. “I’m trying to get his billing up-to-date.”
“And I hear you’re doing a fine job.” His eyes danced and he grinned at me as if he were up to no good. Was he insinuating something?
“I’m making progress. That’s my job.” I smiled tightly.
“I’m impressed. Many before you have tried and failed.”
I reached for my wine glass, hoping he might be reminded to drink rather than talk.