The paparazzi

Violet's POV

The very next day following the previous night, Greg and I go over my project and I commence work. Greg didn't breathe a word about my resignation, as if I didn't file for one. 

Aion Soft welcomed Juliet Coleman, Ethan's mother today. Juliet is quite the picky type. I was in the lobby when she arrived, she walked over to me and appointed me as her aide until the extraordinary meeting, which was rescheduled for today, commences.

I am standing some steps across from the table in her office with my hands clamped in front of me. Juliet is hard to resist staring at. She is one of Aion Soft's shareholders and has an office in the building.

She drapes her coat over her seat. 

Ethan got his eyes from his mother. Juliet is a strong and beautiful woman with the prettiest smile. Her gait is graceful and elegant, and her ambiance is confident and charismatic. She's not one to be trifled with.

“Do you know why I chose you of all people?” She takes her cup of coffee from the desk.

“No, Mrs. Coleman.”

“You remind me of someone.”

I chuckle softly.  “A schoolmate?”

She waves dismissively with an ‘of course not’ smile. “No.” She sips her coffee, her demeanor taking an all-but gloomy dive. “That girl almost took my boy away from me. My son was young and foolish, I know.”

If I string her words together correctly… I am that girl. Rumors had it that Ethan tried to do himself in after our breakup.

My spirit tumbles to my toes, but I stifle the feelings. “I’m sorry.”

Her gaze lingers on me, and I try to hide my unease. She takes another sip before lowering the cup to hold it in both hands. “You look a lot like her.” 

Emphasis on the A Lot.

“What’s your name?”

My self-control snaps; I don't realize when I start wringing my hands together, my thoughts going all over the place. I can't possibly cook up a lie and my silence is giving me away.

Her gaze stays on my ID. “Violet Sinclair.” She looks up at my face, which I'm sure is now blanch with fear. “It’s really you.”

Our eyes meet, hers impassive, mine unnerved, both relaying different messages, she steps forward. “Not sure if it's a coincidence you're working here, or you came with the intention of weaving my son in your wicked web again, but I’ll advise you.”

She gently places a hand over my shoulder. 

“You’re a beautiful young lady. A lot of men will kill to have you. Go to them, and leave my son out of your little game.”

She gives me a smile, which, of course, is a front. “Off you go. The tasks won't do themselves.”

Tense to my bones, the blood in my veins steaming, I turn on my heels and hastily walk into the corridor, taking the route that leads to my office.

Once in the office, I lower myself into the chair in my cubicle. With a sigh, I lean my head in the palms of my hands, leaning on the table with my elbows.

Why do Juliet's words seem to bother me? Ethan and I no longer see each other.

With another sigh, I boot my system to start the data entry task assigned to me, hoping to round up before five o'clock.

The sound of a handful of footsteps and moving cars collide in a quiet buzz of activities in the below-grade lot. It's six o'clock. Workers are returning to their homes.

Greg and I are heading to the place where his car is parked. His pace is hard to keep up with but I still try.

“What’s the employee performance review?”

“So far, it couldn't be any better. The rate of employee turnover decreased by 95% since January.”

“Good.”

Greg goes all out to make sure his team members are worth their salt.

He grabs the door handle of his car, and with a smooth click, the door swings open, but he leaves it ajar, resting a crooked arm on it as he stares at me.

“You take your orientation sessions seriously, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He makes to get into his car but pauses. “And keep that smile on. Could earn us some good deals.”

We exchange a smile before he gets into the car and starts the engine.

“Have a good night.”

Greg drives out of the spot and the figure that comes into sight steals the smile from my face. Ethan had parked his Ferrari next to Greg's and was getting out when our eyes met. Fear freezes me in place, my breath hitches. The absence of people in the below-grade makes sets a horrifying mood.

I gather courage to walk off. Only turning to do that, his voice, cold and patronizing stops me dead,

“The way you people look at each other. Is he shifting your underwear already?”

Irritation courses through my veins, contorting my countenance. I turn back to him. “Greg is my supervisor. He cares for me as he cares for everybody else in the department, and I'm not taking advantage of that.”

At least I tried to come out collected, even though emotions tinged my voice.

His countenance takes a grisly dive and his gaze turns black. “Coming from a slut.” Each collective step brings him closer to me, his brow crinkling in anger. “How dare you look at Greg like that?”

“I have a fiancee, and I love—”

“Finish that sentence and you're dead.”

Ethan doesn't look to me like he's in his right mind.

I turn to run but it seems like he knew my next move before I even execute it. In a fluid, deft move, he hurtles closer and gathers my hair in a tight fist, yanks me back sharply, and slams my back against his car.

He presses against me, firmly holding my hair against the car. Any attempt to break free and I might lose a bunch of hair, so I retire to clawing and pulling at his hand. But it seems he loves pain and my struggling gives him satisfaction.

Panic seizes me, and I start hyperventilating, sadness clawing so hard at my insides. “Leave me alone, Ethan, please,” I sob in panic.

“I can't fucking stand seeing you walk past me without getting my hands on you,” he grits out. His eyes are bloodshot.

His other hand cups my breast, squeezing. The humiliation becomes unbearable, I couldn't help but fight harder, but my attempt to claw at his face only tightens his grip on my hair to make me stop.

“Revenge is a dish best served cold, Vio. It can't be cold enough when I'm not touching you. Kissing you.”

My body bristles with a shiver as I feel his tongue laving the curve of my neck, reaching up. “You’re mine, Vio. All mine.” His mouth presses against mine, but I don't yield.

I am rather unresponsive. I cinch my lips tightly, swiveling my head side to side but he grabs my face to steady my head, pressing further.

A staccato burst of camera shutters clicking in rapid succession echoes through the scene, instantly rousing an awareness among us and our heads swivel in the direction of the shutter sounds.

I tense up with terror, gaping at the paparazzi resolutely capturing the moment of my downfall. Shame overwhelms me, leaving me wishing I could disappear.

A plethora of them rush to us, the horde of paparazzi bombarding us with a thousand questions, but I try to grasp a few.

“What is she to you?”

“Are you aware your act goes against your company policies?”

“Who is she?”

“What happens to Lucia Campbell?”

I relax a bit when I spot a familiar man and five security men bursting into the throng of jostling paparazzi. Ethan grabs my hand and I feel a strange sense of safety course through me. While some of the security guards pave our path, the man and the rest of the security guards lead us through. 

It's not easy still, as the throng jostles us, their voices flooding the atmosphere. I came to Manhattan to hide and escape from my troubles, but somehow I've drawn the world into my tiny space.

Once in the office, Ethan tosses my hand away and steps towards the glass wall, runs his hands from his head down his face, cussing. I can feel the rage radiating from him, it scalds my skin.

His image and his career are teetering on the precipice of disaster. But the last time I checked, I stand to lose the most. My job, my career, my dignity.

A call warbles his phone, tearing the awkward silence that hangs over us. He picks up, taking the phone to his ear.

“I want to go home,” I say as soon as he gets off the call and lowers his hand on his side with frustration.

The caller could've said something unfavorable, which I'm not interested to know; all I want is to run home and cry over my terrible downfall. 

He walks over to me, hands in the pockets of his suit pants as he stares at me, his eyes aflame. “You should do that. Take as much break as you can, because you're about to play a role that requires you in full strength.”

I squint in confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Which part of it do you not understand? The part where you've lost your job or… the part where you're about to become Ethan Coleman's wife.”

His latter words send shock through me, nearly sweeping me off my feet, but I counterbalance my weight to steady myself. Tongue-tied and dazed, I gaze into his eyes, searching for the slightest hint of lies in them. There is only honesty, gravity.

I shake my head, refusing to believe it.

“That’s not happening.”

“It’s happening. You have an image to protect and so do I.”

“I had an image until you fouled it. Ethan, I won't marry you no matter what.”

“It’s not a thing of choice, Violet. Either you marry me, or… you marry me. Oh, come on, Violet, it's just a three-month contract,” he yells his latter words with so much rage the veins in his neck pop.

Three months of fucking misery! I'll die the very day I become his wife.

“I have a fiance and nothing can make me leave Peter. Not even you.”

“You say that like a mantra and it makes me sick. Stop pretending this marriage isn't as important to you as it is to me. I mean, the money, the fame. Whores like the sound of that.”

That obscene name breaks me inside.

“Besides, nobody said you have a choice in this. It's a do-or-die affair. Reject the offer and you won't go down alone. You'll take your family with you.”

My family?

“Jarred will take you home. I'll call you when the papers are ready.”

“Are you including my family in this?”

“Since you decided to be stubborn, yes. Save your strength, Violet. In five days, you're going to need all the  strength you can get.”