Read Wild Violet (The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Vivian Winslow
Wild Violet (The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1)
Wild Violet
The Gilded Flower Series
By Vivian Winslow
“What the fuck were you thinking, Thomas!” Vi seethes into her cell phone as she cuts across Cornelia Street. “Ring me when you get this. Where in the hell are you anyway?” She hangs up as she gets into a cab on Seventh Avenue and replays the events of the last hour.
Why in the hell would Thomas send Dahlia that pen drive? Does it mean someone knows he had it?
Vi drums her fingers on her seat as the taxi comes to a screeching halt on Houston Street. “Could you take Greene Street?” She asks the driver impatiently.
Although why should she be nervous? No one has arrested her—yet. And really, what has she done wrong?
She looks out the window and watches people rushing by. Even after these many years, the frenetic pace of the City remains exciting to her, although it’s hard to understand why everyone is in such hurry all the time.
The cab continues its slow crawl down Houston. Vi is beginning to feel anxiety creep up on her again. She needs to go somewhere. She needs answers. Thomas isn’t calling her back, which can only mean he’s been hurt or is taking care of business—
her business
—somewhere. She’ll never forgive herself if something happens to him.
Once they clear the construction that was blocking the road, the cab turns down Mercer and pulls up in front of her building on Broome Street within minutes.
Vi races up the stairs of her walk-up and locks the door to her apartment behind her. Her heart is pounding against her chest while she tears through her room to pack. As soon as she shuts her suitcase, she sits back on her unmade bed and dials Thomas’s phone, which goes directly to voicemail.
Vi takes a few deep breaths to clear her head.
Reality is something you choose
, she assures herself.
All actions have consequences. You choose a path, you prepare yourself for the inevitable reactions that are outside of your control. Until then, it’s all about careful preparation.
He taught her well.
She fishes her passport out of a hidden compartment at the bottom of a shoe rack. It’s time to see an old friend.
“I don’t see why you don’t want to come to visit, even for a week. Jack swears Forte di Marmi is one of the nicest beach towns in Italy,” Lily says.
“You know I love you, Lil. But being a third wheel on your romantic holiday doesn’t sound terribly exciting,” Vi insists.
“So you’ll pass up on gorgeous Italian men just because Jack will be there? Besides, it’s the worst time to be in the City.”
“I love the disgusting summers here. It’s empty except for the tourists, and they’re easy to avoid.” Vi adjusts the cell phone to her other ear as she stretches one leg on the barre in the waiting area of the dance studio. “Why don’t you invite Dahlia? Probably would do her some good to get out of the City.”
Silence fills the other end.
“Lily, hello, are you there?” Vi lowers her leg and sits down on the floor with the bottoms of her feet touching. She folds her body over them to deepen the stretch.
“Yeah, I’m here, Vi,” Lily sighs. “Last time I checked, Dahlia was in Portofino. But she could be anywhere by now. She bailed on me when she met some hot guy in the Trastevere. Two days later she texts to say she’s at his family’s villa in Portofino.”
“Sounds like she’s having a blast,” Vi comments.
“If that’s her idea of fun. I thought if she came to Italy, we’d have a good time, hang out together, but it’s been the opposite. I swear ever since she’s come back from California . . . .” Lily stops short.
“Say no more, I get it. Although we can’t really understand what she’s going through, can we?”
“No,” Lily concedes. “I just want to be there for her, but she keeps pulling away from me.”
“Sometimes you just have to let the person you love ride that train until it crashes. It’s hard, but that’s love, Lily.”
“Fine, Vi. Whatever you say. Just consider coming over, even for a week. Before you know it, classes will be starting, and you’re not going to be free to travel for a while.”
“I get it. Tell you what, I’ll have a think during dance. Okay?” Vi says in an attempt to placate Lily, although she already knows her answer, and so does Lily. It’s difficult for Vi to hide her distaste for Jack, and she treasures Lily too much as a friend to let it show.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Just promise you’ll come out to my parents’ place for Labor Day.”
Vi stands up when she notices the previous class has ended. “Of course I will.”
Sweat drips down Vi’s chest as they finish the barre work. Despite every window being open, there’s no respite from the heat for the dancers who pack in the two adjoining studios. Even in the summer, the class is full of people trying to keep up their skills for possible auditions, with the exception of Vi who does it because it’s one of the only times she’s able to feel happy and free. She takes in the mix of people as she gulps down her water—men and women, mostly in their twenties, although some teenagers who look like they could be ten years-old, the majority of them beautiful, and all of them with absolutely gorgeous dancer bodies. She tosses her water back into her bag and takes her place in front of the mirror.
“Today, half of you go there,” the instructor says in a thick French accent, making a slicing motion with his arm to divide the class and pointing to the other space. The dancers move obediently. Monsieur Renard appears to be about sixty-five and has perfectly coiffed silver hair that goes well with his perfect posture. Despite being dressed in pants and a collared shirt, he doesn’t have a drop of sweat on him. “The rest of you will be paired off.
Pas de deux
.”
Vi searches the room for a partner. This isn’t what she signed up for today. She likes M. Renard’s class because he demands perfection and complete control from his dancers. Every position, hip movement and alignment always has to be just right. It forces her to focus, to allow her thoughts and self-doubt to melt away and for those ninety minutes to just
be
. But it’s too late to leave. She doesn’t back down from a challenge.
“
Mademoiselle
Rai,” M. Renard points to her. “Why are you not with someone? Or is your partner invisible?” He chuckles and turns to talk to the pianist.
She smiles back and with her hands on her hips says, “Seems no one finds me worthy to be his partner. Perhaps you would like to be my partner,
Monsieur
Renard.”
He smiles and laughs, revealing yellow teeth stained from cigarettes and coffee. “
Mademoiselle
Rai, if I were younger, I would have you for a partner and you would not forget that experience.” He approaches her and says, eyeing her up and down, “
Malheureusement
, my youth is gone and the women along with it.” Not taking his eyes off Vi, he reaches out toward the right with his arm and snaps his fingers. “
Monsieur
Costas. Dance with
Mademoiselle
Rai. You are both beautiful. You will fit well together.”
Pointing to the girl who was originally paired with him, M. Renard instructs her, “You go dance with the others.”
Vi glances over at her new partner gliding toward her, ignoring the dirty look from the female dancer.
As soon as he reaches her, he places his hands on her waist and says, “You’re the lucky one who gets to dance with me today.”
She chuckles as she moves her feet and arms into fifth position. “The same can be said of you,
Monsieur
Costas.”
“Come have coffee with me,” he says as Vi enters the stairwell. He’s leaning against the wall of the landing, dressed in torn, loose fitting jeans and a half-tucked, casual white button down, with two buttons undone. His beauty can only be regarded as perfectly masculine with dark, chiseled features and lean, ripped muscles. In fact, his entire body is muscle, which is to be expected for a dancer. Yet, there’s an ethereal quality to the man standing before her, the way he walks and carries himself. Vi’s never met anyone like him, which intrigues her. However, he’s so aware of his looks and the effect he has on others that it makes her ambivalent to his charms.
“Too hot for coffee,” she replies quickly as she begins her descent. He follows her down the stairwell and out onto Broadway.
“You can have it iced.”
“No thank you, I’m
not interested
in having coffee.” The reply is half-hearted because a part of her is curious. Of course she can imagine herself sleeping with him. The image of him taking her on the studio floor had flashed through her mind when his hand brushed her inner thigh as she moved into
attitude
. It sent a shockwave through her that she couldn’t forget.
“Then we’ll get water. I’ve seen you drink that.”
Vi shakes her head and stops walking. Turning to him she says, “Persistence isn’t a charming quality. It’s creepy and borders on stalking. You should make a woman feel respected, not just desired.”
He grins and puts his hands into his pockets. “So I take it that’s a no to any beverage.”
“You learn fast,” she says, hailing a taxi. Vi knows if she stays near him any longer, she might just sleep with him. One more glance at his fine form confirms that.
He holds the door open for her. “Maybe next time.”
She can sense from his smile that he’s not any easy person to resist, and who is she to pass up what could be an incredibly memorable fuck? It just has to be the way she prefers—on her terms.
“
Mademoiselle
Rai, you seem to have lost your hearing since yesterday,” Monsieur Renard remarks. “
Sur les pointes
, and keep with the tempo,” he commands. “You are off by almost half a beat. I’m sure
Monsieur
Costas doesn’t appreciate that.”
Vi looks down at the floor, refusing to acknowledge her partner. He’s the reason she’s so off. His smile, his quiet comments in French about wanting to
know
her, has ruined her concentration. She can hear him chuckle.
She lifts her head and says to her teacher, “Perhaps I need a new partner. He’s rushing the sequence.”
“Oh,
Mademoiselle
,” Monsieur Renard chides, “It is the female who sets the rhythm. It is his job to read your body and movements. Now, from the top.”
Vi feels herself growing angrier with every step. She ignores his smirk when the class applauds. Turning him down will be much easier this time, she assures herself. Or not.
How she finds herself walking down 75
th
Street and Riverside Drive next to him is a bit beyond her. Vi can only presume it’s the way he held her during the final lift, his hands bared against her stomach and leg, holding her so strongly and firmly that it made her wonder a bit too long about how it would feel to have those same hands all over her.
The casual way he met her in the stairwell today after class was a replay of the previous day, but without the same eagerness she found to be such a turn off. Now, as they walk together, he mirrors her quiet demeanor. There’s no reason for pretense, she figures. It’s just sex.