Wild Violet (The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) Read online

  Wild Violet

  The Gilded Flower Series

  By Vivian Winslow

  Text copyright © 2014 Vivian Winslow

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “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.

  Five Years Earlier

  Chapter 1

  “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.”

  Chapter 2

  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.”

  Chapter 3

  “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.

  Chapter 4

  “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 75th 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.

  Chapter 5

  Vi takes in the view of the Hudson from his apartment. The windows extend throughout the large living area and wrap around to the other side. “Lovely view,” she says casually.

  “Yes, it is,” he replies, taking a seat on the sofa that faces her.

  “I wouldn’t have figured you for the country-French style.” Vi motions to the room, which is decorated in light blue and yellow hues, punctuated by a large red and brown abstract oil painting.

  “Can’t say it’s mine.”

  “No? Whose is it then?”

  “A friend’s.”

  Vi leans against the window and crosses her arms. “Would this friend care that I’m here?”

  “Perhaps. But she’s currently sailing the Greek Isles with her husband, so I think it’s safe to say her opinion doesn’t matter.”

  “Should it matter?”

  “I don’t think so,” he shrugs. “You strike me as someone who doesn’t care about such things.” He extends his arm over the back of the sofa and crosses one leg over the other.

  “About what things?”

  “Relationships.”

  “That obvious?” Vi tugs at her white linen scarf around her neck, attempting to hide her uneasiness. The self-possessed way he responds to her makes her nervous. They’re both constantly vying for the upper hand, and it’s unsettling to her that she would even bother trying. Yet that pull in her core keeps her feet planted. If nothing else, she wants to know how his lips feel on her.

  “I could say the same for you,” she adds, breaking their brief silence.

  He runs a long finger along his bottom lip. “Sometimes they are mutually beneficial.”

  “Like putting a roof over your head for the summer,” Vi says pointedly, glancing around the room. So she was right about him. He can’t afford a place like this.

  “That’s certainly an advantage.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “Why should it? You didn’t pay for those earrings, did you?”

  Vi raises a hand to her ear and fingers the diamond studs. They were a high school graduation gift from her father. Five carats. The size was meant to express how badly he felt for not attending.

  “And that bag,” he points his chin at her Chanel tote. “The way you tossed it on the floor in the studio. Such things mean very little to you, don’t they?”

  “Exactly that—they’re just things,” Vi replies stone faced. He gets her, but isn’t repulsed by her spoiled, childish ways. The way he’s challenging her is turning her on even more.

  “That’s right, they are. Just like this place,” he says, his hand going up. “It’s just a thing. Funny, isn’t it? The kind of importance people in this City assign to stupid objects.”

  Vi doesn’t respond. She’s done talking. She’d rather not have to listen to some diatribe about the unimportance of wealth when it’s clear he wants it, even if he has to use people to get it.

  He’s finished as well. The mood shifts as he stares her for a few minutes, the look in his eyes filling with lust.

  Vi undoes her bun and lets her long, dark hair fall around her shoulders.

  He runs his hands through his own thick chestnut hair and smiles seductively as he makes his way toward her. His stride is confident and slow, every step deliberate to draw out her need. He puts his hand on the back of her neck and whispers into her ear, “I haven’t been able to think about anything else but you.”

  Chapter 6

  His teeth graze Vi’s ear before he bites down and sucks on the fleshy part, sending a bolt of electricity through her body. His hand makes its way up her taut body beneath her loose tank top. Desire shoots through her as he plays with her nipples, tugging and pulling until she can hardly stand up straight.

  Suddenly, her top is on the floor, and he has her arms pinned above her. “I can tell you that you are absolutely stunning, but that would mean nothing to you, would it?” He whispers, his tongue entering her ear. “Compliments are repulsive to you, aren’t they?”

  Vi moans as his hand moves up her skirt, discovering her wet snatch. “So fucking wet,” he groans, pressing his own need against her. “Of course you were anticipating this. I just had to wait until you wanted it.”

  She closes her eyes and shuts out his words, relishing in the feel of his soft lips that trail down her neck and work over her tits. Words are meaningless. So what if he gets her. It’s inconsequential to the moment, which is all they have as far as she’s concerned.

  The touch of his bare flesh makes Vi open her eyes. She couldn’t have imagined the exquisite perfection of his body. Every muscle of his torso and shoulders so well defined they appear almost sculpted.

  Vi runs her tongue along her lower lip and smiles coyly up at him.

  He smiles back and spins her around, pressing her body against the window, his fingers entering her. “You act like you don’t care, but you want to be noticed, don’t you? Poor girl never got enough of her father’s attention.”

  Vi pushes back against his hard cock. “I didn’t come here to be analyzed. We can fuck or I can leave,” she warns, her voice husky with desire. She doesn’t want to leave just yet though. His fingers gliding over her clit keep her in place.

  He laughs and pulls her head back by her hair, his lips covering every inch of her neck. “It’s even better this way, isn’t it? All our shit just out there, the fears that separate us from everyone else. This is intimacy.”