Company Ink (18 page)

Satisfied, she turned her phone over and tugged off its back to pop the battery out and set the pieces on her nightstand. Finally, she gave her body what it desperately wanted; she closed her eyes and buried herself under her blankets, sleep mercifully claiming her within a few short minutes.

• • •

Ben was at Violet’s station in the bakery, gathering everything he needed to do production, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He had three employees talking to him at once; he held up a hand to silence all of them.

He was more than slightly disappointed when he realized it was a text message.

“Excuse me a minute,” he answered distractedly, walking toward the hallway.

Violet’s words told him nothing and only stoked his insecurities about the night before. Her last words to him were that she needed to go home to “process all of this”; by the end of the night, she was calling out of work and not answering her phone. Sure, he was panicking. Ben was all but certain at this point that his divorce had finally driven her away. If he could just speak to her now, he knew he could put her mind at ease. The time he’d spent with Ethan and Tommy had been fruitful; there was no longer a doubt in his mind that this would be over soon.

Defying Violet’s request for some alone time, he swiped his way into his phone’s contact list and dialed her number. His heart sank when it went straight to voicemail—he’d never felt so out of control in his life. He didn’t bother leaving a message out of concern that he might say something stupid in the heat of the moment. He didn’t want to be needy, or pushy, or controlling. He’d gotten the impression that she’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime, but he couldn’t be sure because they hadn’t actually spoken about her past much in the wake of his drama. He’d given her a number of outs; all he could do now was hold on to the fact that she hadn’t taken them and believe that she was being honest, not only with him, but with herself. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and told himself to suck it up, hoping that the damage hadn’t already been done.

• • •

Violet slipped in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the day, hearing noises at her door at random points without caring much for who was behind it. Between naps, she thought of ways to stand up to Steve once and for all. She wanted so desperately to assert her dominance, to prove that she was different and that she’d grown. Steve had taken advantage of her naiveté in the worst possible way, and she needed to prove to herself—just as much as she wanted to prove to him—she wouldn’t be anyone’s doormat again. Each time she imagined facing him, she’d begin piecing an epic rant together, the kind of speech from which he’d have no choice but to walk away. And each time she’d string a few words together, sleep would take her.

She finally woke up, without the aid of her alarm, at four o’ clock the next morning. Full of renewed spirit, Violet jumped out of bed and headed directly for the bathroom. After what she thought was a pretty amazing shower, Violet dried off and began to get dressed, feeling absolutely positive today would be a better day. As she set up her usual breakfast, prepped her lunch, and put her bag together to take to work, it felt great to be engulfed in her usual routine. And by the time she walked out of the apartment, she couldn’t wait to get to work and, more importantly, see Ben’s face.

She strolled into Wynne’s Kitchen at five thirty, her usual arrival time. Counter staff and bakers alike greeted her warmly, asking if she was okay, as she made her way downstairs to the office. When she entered the office, she was surprised to see Ben sitting at his desk. He was hunched over, head in his hands. She regarded him with a tilt of the head, her heart swelling as she realized she’d missed him more than she thought.

“Hey, you,” she said softly.

Ben sat up straight and turned, worry etched on his face. “Vi.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”

He shook his head. “I haven’t exactly given you reason to think you can come to me. I’ve been so caught up in the divorce and just keeping away from Elena that I—”

“It’s okay,” Violet insisted, pressing her back against the office door. “We also didn’t exactly start on the most solid ground, did we?”

“No, I guess not,” he replied. “I guess we’ve got a little damage control to do, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say damage control.” She grinned, pushing off the door and walking to her desk. “But we do have to talk. After work, I’ll meet you at your place, cook, and we’ll talk all night if you want.”

“As much fun as that sounds,” he answered as she took her seat, “I feel like we need to hash this out now. At least so I know what I’m headed into tonight.”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “I mean, our situation is complicated—I just didn’t think it was
that
complicated. What is it you’re worried about?”

Pressing his lips together, he stood. “Never mind, you’re right—we’ll talk at the house tonight. I’ve gotta get the cash into the drawers anyway.”

Violet watched him, bewildered, as he clammed up and went about his business. What was eating at him? With a sigh, she logged in to her computer and began to set up her morning.

• • •

Ben headed up the stairs with two register drawers in his arms, a little disappointed in himself for giving Violet a passive-aggressive cold shoulder. She was absolutely right to say they’d talk later; how in the hell would they ever get a decent conversation in while they were running The Rock? That said, he was more anxious about their pending conversation than he was willing to let on; he couldn’t vouch for her state of mind yesterday, but he’d worried himself into a completely sleepless night wondering whether or not Violet was on the verge of leaving him.

Ben slammed the drawers into their respective registers, feeling like an idiot for being so crazed about something that he had no control over. If she did have second thoughts, could he stop her from going? Probably not. But did he want her to stay?
My God, yes
. It was completely unnatural to be falling for someone else when his divorce papers hadn’t even been signed yet, but there it was.

He blew out a gust of air as he made a split decision to avoid Violet as much as he could today, only because he wasn’t sure he could control his urge to drag her into one of the walk-in refrigerators and demand they have this conversation now. Ben was used to immediate satisfaction when it came to his curiosity, and the fact that he’d waited even twenty-four hours to discuss the immediate future with his girlfriend was a damned miracle. The impatience coursing through his veins would likely drive him crazy before the morning ended, but for Violet, he’d wait.

• • •

After one of the longest, most awkward days she’d ever spent in Ben’s presence since they began dating, Violet couldn’t wait to get out of the bakery. The only thought that kept her going was that the tension between them would certainly be long gone by the end of this evening. She’d cook, they’d talk, and Ben would finally know the story between her and Steve as well as what the jerk had been up to lately. Violet couldn’t wait to get it all out in the open and hopefully end up in Ben’s arms at the end of the night.

Thankful she hadn’t run into Ben when she entered the office, she grabbed her things and sped out of the bakery before anyone could call her back. She grabbed her cell phone and stopped just outside the store to send Ben a quick text message saying she’d see him tonight, followed by a few x’s and o’s. Hoping that would be enough to make him smile, she began to walk toward the bus that would take her to Ben’s neighborhood. She was startled to find Steve, disheveled and wild-eyed, standing in front of her. She stepped back into a defensive position, determined not to let him send her running.

To her surprise, he held up his hands submissively. “Wait, wait! Relax, I’m not here to start trouble.”

She watched him silently, poised to punch him and yell for the police if the situation called for it. Steve kept his hands where she could see them, thank God.

“Vi, just … just take it easy. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Violet repeated, stunned.

“I am. I was an absolute jerk to you last night, and I’m sure it only reminded you of the guy I was in the past.”

“The guy you
were
?” Violet asked. “I think we’re way beyond talking about your behavior in the past tense.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “I deserved that. That’s why I had to make sure I apologized before...” His shoulders were hunched as he closed the distance between them just a little more. “Look, I’m going back to Florida. Here—New York—is not where I’m meant to be, and it’s definitely not what I need. You deserve better than how I acted.”

She watched him carefully, unsure of how to take his statement. He seemed genuinely apologetic and humble, but she couldn’t help but feel like he was holding a proverbial knife behind his back.

“Being up here brought back everything I hated about myself, things I thought I let go when you left me,” he continued. “And when you rejected me, and I saw you with that guy … Well, you know.”

Violet’s arms dropped to her sides. “Yeah, I know.”

He held his hands out in an imploring gesture. “I don’t expect you to ever forget the way I treated you, but maybe one day you can forgive me?”

She wanted to tell him off. But there he stood before her, seemingly vulnerable and taking responsibility for his behavior by asking for eventual forgiveness. She looked away and folded her arms before letting out a sigh. “Maybe.”

An awkward moment of silence extended between them; Violet was considering just walking away when she felt Steve grab her arms aggressively. Her eyes flew upward to meet his and, before she could exclaim, he crushed his mouth against hers. She struggled against him, but he held on, his strength proving too much for her. Bile rose in her throat, and her stomach churned in the worst way; his slimy tongue made its way into her mouth as he forced himself on her. She jerked her head to one side and screamed against him; she felt him laugh against her before pushing her away with so much force that she almost flew backward into the street.

She gagged momentarily as he wiped his mouth and watched her, his gaze dripping with disdain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d taste like—a bitter, deluded bitch.”

Violet straightened her back and glared at him before reaching out and shoving him as hard as she could. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Steve grabbed her again, scolding her like an abusive parent would a child. “Who do you think
you
are? You’ve got it all under control, huh? I know girls like you think you’re strong and capable of protecting yourselves, but let me tell you something—look at me!”

With those last three words, he shook her so hard she felt her brain rattle. “You remember this: if a man wants something from a woman, he’ll take it, just like I did right now. You got that? Women aren’t strong, do you under—”

Embarrassed, seething with rage, Violet stomped on his foot as hard as she could. He let out a yowl and stepped back.
Women aren’t strong, huh?
Before she could change her mind, she closed her fist, pulled back, and aimed for the back of his head as she punched him square in the face. And boy, did he go down like a sack of potatoes. His legs crumpled beneath him as he hit the sidewalk, and she found herself burdened with a sense of righteousness and outrage as she stood over him, screaming.

“I’m not strong? I just knocked you out, didn’t I!”

For the second time in as many days, Violet found herself surrounded by people who wanted to help her. Her wrist swelled immediately from the well-placed but poorly executed punch she’d thrown; she cradled it in her arms as a group of tourists surrounded her to keep her safe as Steve began to come to. And Violet didn’t run this time as the police converged on the scene. Steve wasn’t getting away with this one, or any one for that matter.

Never again.

It was about midnight when Violet began the trip home from the emergency room. Her cab raced up Broadway at her urging, bringing her home after a few painful hours at Lenox Hill Hospital. The beyond-embarrassing incident with Steve had resulted in numerous x-rays, a cramped neck from dozing off in the waiting room, and a manageable sprain in her wrist. Violet was sent home with a top-of-the-line brace her insurance probably wouldn’t pay for and a prescription for Vicodin, as well as a couple of pills to get her started on the ride home. At the halfway point, Violet was officially too stoned to care about the throbbing pain in her freshly turned wrist.

The doctors had instructed her to keep it immobile until her recheck appointment, which was twelve days away. Such instructions were simple enough for the average nine-to-fiver, but this was practically a death sentence for Violet, who used her hands—and her wrists, especially—on a daily basis. She’d have to find icing coverage for at least the next two weeks, stick to paperwork in the office and, in short, put her entire career at risk for the second time this year. Her heart raced nervously—would she be able to return to her original icing speed when all was said and done? She shuddered at the thought of what Wynne would say when she finally told her.

Worries for another day
, she told herself as the cab pulled up in front of her building.

After paying the driver and practically tumbling out of the cab, Violet approached her building with a sigh of relief, knowing her bed was just upstairs. She was a little surprised to see Ben waiting for her, his frame tilted casually against the building.

Oh, crap.
In the midst of the insanity, she had forgotten she was supposed to be at his house tonight. Violet approached him quickly, letting out an apologetic groan.

“I’m so sorry,” she began. “I left work, and everything just—”

“Yeah, everything
just
,” he interrupted, an unexpected hardness in his voice. “When were you going to tell me?”

Violet blinked, assuming they were on the same page but still a little startled by his coldness. “Well … I was going to tell you tonight. Hadn’t we agreed to … ?”