Company Ink (7 page)

Elena ignored his question as she turned on her heel to look around the living room. “This furniture is hideous.”

“You never liked anything I picked out,” Ben retorted. “Is that part of what I did wrong?”

She slowly faced him again. “You’ll never understand. But I promise you, I
will
make you as miserable as you made me. And everyone’s going to know what you did.”

Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, then hopefully they’ll clue me in. Because I still have no idea what I could have possibly done that would have compelled you to spread your legs for a guy like Ethan.”

Elena glared as if she were willing lasers to shoot from her eyes. “I hate you, Ben Preston.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Obviously. I’ll see you in court.”

• • •

Violet had spent nearly two days wondering what could have possessed Steve to come all the way up to New York City to track her down. Was his appearance really as simple as an apology, or did he have an ulterior motive? For hours on end, she went over the last moments of their relationship, telling herself that he didn’t actually deserve an opportunity to apologize, whether he was being sincere or not. As a result, she didn’t bother to give him an answer.

But Steve, apparently, was determined to charm her into dinner. He’d sent her multiple text messages since popping back into her life on Wednesday and remained steadfast through Thursday morning, despite the fact that she hadn’t once answered him. Now, on Thursday afternoon, Violet was spending as much of the last half of her shift in the office at Wynne’s Kitchen as she could, simply because there was no cell phone signal in the basement.

Barely able to focus, she sat in the office by herself tapping out a rhythmless beat with her pen on the desk. She had finished production and made the lists for the overnight shift and the following day. Violet knew she was stalling and had quickly run out of reasons to remain downstairs. She couldn’t even use Ben as an excuse anymore; since their confrontation, he’d actually been pretty pleasant to her. She probably wasn’t a pleasure to be around at this point, but she was doing her best to conceal her anxiety. The truth was, she didn’t want to deal with any of this head-on again. She’d walked away from Steve when it counted, hadn’t she? Why should she have to face him twice? What the hell did he want
now
?

Behind her, the door opened. Violet was a little disgusted that, somehow, her ears readily recognized the way Ben’s feet hit the floor as he entered the office. She picked her head up quickly and stared at her computer screen, doing her best to feign interest in a handful of Seamless orders that she’d already added to the production schedule.

“Everything okay down here?” he asked.

“Just fine, Ben,” she answered quickly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

She could hear him shift his stance so that he was facing her. “Are you sure? I haven’t seen you on the floor in about an hour.”

“I finished my list. I took a few special orders, and then I came down here to take care of the baker’s schedules,” she replied through clenched teeth. “Is something wrong upstairs?”

“Not at all. But I did see you with your head in your hands, so I figured you might have been a little stressed. Did I say or do something to offend you?”

She sighed, feeling her patience being tested in a big way. “No, Ben. Believe it or not, you’re not my only source of stress and anxiety.”

Ben chuckled in response. “Ah, so you
aren’t
always a sweetheart—I was beginning to worry you were too perfect to actually be human.”

“Well, you already brought it out in me once before, so why would you be surprised now?”

“You know, Violet, I’ve really been trying with you these last couple of days. It’s pretty hypocritical of you to ride my ass for projecting onto you when it seems like all you’ve done since we last talked is project on me.”

His words stung. And of course, she lashed out. “What can I say? My attitude reflects the store’s leadership …
sir
.”

“Really, Vi? You’re telling me
this
is you?”

She spun around in her seat, jerking herself into a standing position. “It’s Violet, and don’t think I don’t feel you hovering over me like you’re trying to prove yourself as my lord and master. I don’t care how big you are—I’m not afraid of you, okay?”

“Um, okay.”

“You seem to think that because you’re twelve feet tall, I’m supposed to be concerned about what you think of me. I may not be able to look you in the face, but I … you know what?”

In a move that even she wouldn’t be able to explain later, she grabbed a nearby folding chair and opened it. She then slid it in front of Ben so that it nearly hit his shins and, without a single rational thought, stood on it so that she could stare him in the face.

Ben’s shoulders rose in a silent chuckle as he avoided her gaze. “Well, now I know that you’re
not
all right. Do you realize what you’re doing right now?”

Violet’s brow furrowed, and she looked down, catching on to the magnitude of her foolish display. Her cheeks burned. “Um, maybe I didn’t think this through.”

Ben smiled widely at her. “I appreciate your fiery display here, but you’re forgetting that I
am
taller than you and … ” Without warning, he leaned forward slightly and threw her over his shoulder.

Violet let out a quick, sharp scream; she grabbed on to his shoulders with a grunt and tried to straighten herself, nearly hitting her head on the low ceiling.

“Despite the fact that we’re in a place of business, I have no problems reminding you of that.”

Her eyes widened as she absorbed the fact that she was unceremoniously hanging from his long, lean body. Although, looking downward, she could see the firm bottom she’d admired when they first met nearly two weeks ago.

Ben chuckled, his laugh deep and playful. “Are you calm enough? Or are you going to punch me in the face if I put you down?”

“Put me down, Ben.
Now
.”

He set her down, and Violet gave him a stern look before reaching back and slapping him across the face. He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he accepted her reaction. He then nodded. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

Violet folded her arms and spoke calmly. “This is obviously not working out. I’ll ask Wynne for a transfer by the end of the week.”

Without another word, she walked past him and threw the office door open. The night manager, Jamie, stood at the threshold, a shocked expression on her face.

“Vi, was that you? I heard a scream.”

“I thought I saw a mouse under my desk. But it was just a hat.”

Violet made her way through the prep area without waiting for the night manager’s reply. Up the stairs to the main floor she headed, past the cupcake counter and onto the sales floor. She was pulling her cell phone out of her pocket as she ignored the floor supervisor calling her name. The phone was to her ear as she pushed past the crowds of tourists, and there was no turning back as she tugged on the front entrance and headed into the open air.

“Hey, it’s Vi. Still up for dinner tomorrow?”

• • •

Friday flew by in a haze for Ben. The pace, while he’d managed to keep up without getting overwhelmed, had kept him far too busy to have anything more than a yes/no conversation with Violet. And he knew he owed her more than that. A bridge had burned between them after he’d dominated her the day before, and it hadn’t taken more than an hour for him to realize that he messed up and would’ve given anything to take back what he’d done in the heat of the moment. In fact, he had spent the entire day waiting to hear from Wynne, who would certainly have a problem with her protégé wanting to transfer out of the company’s flagship location.

The call from Wynne never came, however. Had Violet changed her mind about leaving? On more than a couple of occasions, he caught himself watching her at the icer’s station from the registers, hoping he hadn’t destroyed any shot he had of building something good with the bakery by pissing off the one girl he’d been excited about working with from the moment he met her.

His entire commute home to his Upper West Side condo was spent thinking of her, wondering how he could possibly turn things around. Even after showering and heading back out to meet Tommy at Hiro Sushi, he couldn’t shake the thought of her upset or his own feelings of guilt that followed.

Ollie’s Hiro Sushi was a small, chic but casual Chinese/Japanese restaurant located less than a couple of blocks from Ben’s building, tucked away on the corner of Freedom Place and West Sixty-Eighth Street. As he followed the waitress to his table, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the irony. He and Elena had spent many nights huddled in a random booth around a bottle of wine, making out between courses like a couple of lovesick teenagers. Now he was here waiting for his attorney to arrive so that he could discuss the details of his divorce, along with a strategy to stop the woman he’d once loved from destroying his life.

He’d already drained one whiskey and had been swirling the second in its glass for what felt like a long time before his phone finally rang.

“Bro, it’s Tommy. Where are you?”

“Exactly where I told you I’d be,” Ben answered. “At Ollie’s, waiting for you.”

“Shit. I’m guessing you didn’t get my message, then.”

Ben fought off the frustrated sigh that threatened to escape. “That’d be a fair assumption.”

“I’ve got a pretty hefty emergency with another client,” Tommy said. “They pay by the hour and your case is pro bono, so … ”

“I get it. So why are you calling?”

“To check in. And to make sure you’re not pissed at me.”

“I wasn’t when I thought you were coming.”

Tommy groaned. “Come on, bro, I’m sorry. I have bills to pay, ya know? I followed up with my contact to make sure I’m not missing anything from Elena’s camp, and it’s cool. Nothing’s changed yet, at least not for the worse.”

“Elena’s
camp
,” Ben repeated. “What kind of assault is she building, anyway? And who’s your contact? Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention their name.”

“I can’t yet,” Tommy replied quickly. “The person I’ve been chatting with could destroy Elena’s case against you, and I’m still in the process of wearing them down. If it got back to her that I was working on someone so close, it’d destroy everything.”

“This is all way too
Mission Impossible
for me. What happened to the days when a guy and girl could just get divorced and call it a day?”

“No one told you to marry a delusional lunatic, pal.” Tommy chuckled, his voice hardened and reminiscent of a gangster film. “She’s built you up in her mind to be some sort of monster, and she’s made the act of divorcing you into some sort of conquest. I’ve read some of her statements and trust me, bro—you don’t want to know.”

“But I do! Why haven’t I seen these papers yet?”

“Would you trust me, please? I’m handling this … You don’t need any more of the stress.”

“Dude, we need to talk about this.” Ben ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m tired of the secrets and the sheltering. I feel like you’re pulling me through a minefield with my eyes closed.”

“All right, Ben, you win. I’ll show you everything,” Tommy conceded. “Except my source. I can’t risk Elena finding out.”

“Fine, that’s a deal,” Ben agreed. “But I’ll tell you what, if you can get me out of this with little to no collateral damage, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Tommy laughed. “Don’t paint yourself into any corners, buddy. But you know I’ve got your back.”

“All right, I’ve got a Scotch to nurse.” Ben sighed. “Maybe I’ll drink myself stupid and stumble back to my place. Lord knows I’m close enough to make it.”

“Yep, that’s healthy. Just be careful, all right? Try to avoid doing anything stupid.”

“I make no promises.”

As Ben wrapped up the call, he spotted something shiny out of the corner of his eye. The shiny something happened to be a silver bangle, but it was the arm to which it was attached that made his heart skip a beat.
Violet?
He set his phone down without looking, dangerously close to dropping it in his glass. What was Violet doing in his neighborhood? It occurred to him that he had no idea where she lived.

Her eyes darted nervously around the restaurant, and his stomach churned as he dropped his head to avoid being seen.
Maybe she’s meeting someone
,
but here?
Mercifully, the waitress approached as he struggled to get his thoughts together, batting her eyes and smiling.

“Can I get you another Scotch, sir?”

He twisted in his chair so that the waitress was directly in front of him. “Sure. Why don’t you tell me what you recommend?”

Ben hardly heard her launch into details about their top-shelf product. He smiled up at her and nodded, all the while peeking around the waitress to glance at Violet, who seemed thoroughly engrossed in the menu her server had placed at her table.

“Sir?”
Whoops.
He hadn’t heard her stop talking.

“You know what, I think I’ll just stick to what I’ve got here,” he replied, feeling guilty. “But thanks.”

He eyed Violet from across the restaurant, carefully keeping his head tilted toward his glass. He noticed she was tense and obviously nervous—her hands, knotted together, practically tapped out a rhythm on the table as she sat with her eyes closed and took deep breaths. A small twinge of jealousy that he refused to acknowledge set up a knot in the pit of his stomach.
Hot date, huh?
He tossed back the last sip of his second Scotch just as the waitress served up his third, whisking the other glass away without so much as a word. Violet’s server approached her table with a smile but was turned away with a nervous shake of the head as Violet buried her face in her menu.

He had gone through his third drink and was just being brought another when Violet’s demeanor finally changed. She repeatedly checked her phone, alternatively staring out the window, fiddling with her silverware, and looking through her menu. Then, with a final check of the phone, her shoulders slumped. Ben grabbed his own and looked at it; an hour had gone by. And he’d been watching her like a stalker for exactly that long. With a frown, he realized that Violet had been stood up. His brow furrowed as he watched sympathetically—she stared hard at the tablecloth in front of her, and Ben could tell that she was willing herself not to cry. And before he could stop himself, he was out of his chair and fast approaching her table.