Epigraph
“A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent – – sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.”
William Shakespeare
Pregnant.
I sit on the toilet, the test shaking in my hand, making that one word jump and dance around, as if taunting me. A gasping sob falls from my lips, my other hand coming up quickly to cover the sound.
Funny how one small word can change the course of your life so completely that it becomes unrecognisable.
Shit. I can’t have a child with him, I think, panic flaring in my chest as images of flying fists flash across my mind.
A bang on the door makes me jump, dropping the stick which goes skittering across the expensive black marble tiled flooring.
“Coming!” I shout, standing and pulling my knickers back up my legs, letting my midnight blue silk evening gown fall to the floor. My hand traces over my stomach, as if I can feel the life growing inside of me, which of course is impossible as according to the test, I’m only a few weeks along.
“Violet,” a deep voice sounds on the other side of the door, and I shudder at the dark tone. “You’ll make us late.”
“Just washing up, Ace,” I call out, turning the tap on, then picking up the test and frantically looking around for somewhere to hide it. He can’t see it, not until I’ve decided what I’m going to do. Spotting the under sink cupboard, I quickly stash it behind all of the cleaning products.
I’ll have to come back for it later.
After washing my hands, I take a final look in the mirror. My dress has a high neck and back, and you can only just see a faint purple mark peeking out from under the collar. The rest of the dress hugs my figure, with rhinestones covering down to my hips and glittering like stars in the night sky. They lessen as the skirts flare out around my feet in a swishing mermaid tail.
I take a deep breath to steady myself, wincing as my bruised ribs twinge.
Just get through this evening, then think about what to do next.
I plaster a smile on my face, grabbing my matching beaded purse off the counter, and open the door to find Ace, my fiancé, standing in a full black tuxedo and looking devilishly handsome. His hair is thick and a dark chocolate brown slicked back from his arresting face. His jaw is sharp, his nose straight like a Roman emperor’s, and there’s a neat, dark beard covering his jawline.
It’s a beautiful face, but a hard one, and right now, his thick brows are pinched over his dark brown eyes. Had I looked closer when I first met him, I might have noticed the deadness lurking just beneath the surface of those shadowy orbs. Not that it would have made much of a difference, I suppose. This is an arranged match, one both our parents decided when we were in the cradle. Contracts signed and sealed before our first birthday.
Those sable eyes take me in; starting at my lightly made up face, moving down my silk-clad body, assessing my appearance for any flaw, and leaving unpleasant tingles in their wake. Finding none, he nods and holds out one arm for me to take. I rush in my heels to do so, knowing that any infraction will be paid for later behind closed doors.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting, Violet.” He admonishes as we leave the house, walking towards the waiting black SUV, and Tom, our driver. “You know they’ll try and steal any advantage they can. Bunch of ignorant jackals.” His lip curls, tone scathing, and I wonder, not for the first time, why he went into business with the others if he finds them so distasteful. We all went to high school together, and they always seemed pretty tight knit.
Ace and I went to school here in Colorado, and Highgate Preparatory Academy is one of the best in the world, especially for meeting future business associates and leaders. The teaching is second to none, but it’s the connections and networking with the top one-percenters that is the real draw. It surprised me when my English parents suggested it, but then again, since Ace is American and was coming here, it only made sense for me to come as well given our betrothal.
Once we’d graduated, I wanted to go on and study something artistic, history of art in New York perhaps, but Ace had other plans so we ended up at Yale School of Management earning our MBAs there. I should have known then what sort of man he was, but I was too meek, too desperate for affection, after a lack of any sort from my stiff and emotionally distant parents.
We graduated this summer and moved into a large mansion about twenty minutes from Brompton Lakes, back near Highgate Prep. It’s got more rooms than we need and is secluded in the woods; nice and private just as Ace likes. No nosy neighbours to interfere with his pleasures.
Tonight, we’re on our way to the official opening gala of Black Knight Corporation, the multifaceted company that Ace has set up with Julian Vanderbilt, Rafe Griffiths, Recce Matthews, and Chad Thorn. All rich, entitled brats with pretty faces that hide their twisted and depraved personalities.
The SUV stops, snapping me out of my musings, and Tom gets out and comes to open Ace’s door.
He turns to me, dark eyes almost black and boring into my very soul. “Best behaviour, Violet. Don’t show me up tonight.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just steps out of the vehicle, and then leans back to hold a hand out like the perfect gentleman.
A plan starts to formulate in my mind as I sit through dinner followed by rounds of self-congratulatory speeches. Over the past couple of years, I’ve perfected the art of smiling like I’m engaged whilst my mind wanders. No one really cares, women are just arm candy to these fat cats and corrupt leaders.
I open my purse, looking around to make sure that no eyes are on me. As usual, they’re too focused on themselves to notice as I slip some powder into Ace’s champagne flute whilst he’s in the bathroom. I’ve got about fifteen to twenty minutes before the effects kick in, so I’ve made sure we’re getting towards the end of the evening.
It’s Rohypnol, and until recently, he was using it on me without my knowledge. Some mornings I’d wake up with new bruises and an ache between my thighs, yet have no clue how they got there until I saw him drugging my drink a few months back.
We were at a function, not dissimilar to this one, with rich men trying to line their pockets and Ace schmoozing his way around. I’d popped to the bathroom, returning sooner than he clearly expected, and saw him slip something into my glass. I managed to ditch the drink when he wasn’t looking, only to face his puzzled anger later on in the evening once we’d arrived back at the house.
It didn’t take much to put two and two together, and realise what he’d been up to and why I had gaps in my memories.
A few days later, when he was away for a business meeting, aka a prostitute orgy, I stole his stash. Black Knight Corp has a pharmaceutical arm, run by Rafe Griffiths, which explains how Ace managed to get a hold of the drug in the first place. Bunch of bloody criminals hiding behind lily white family reputations, bought of course. I knew I couldn’t just take the drug without risking his notice. I’d need to replace it with something, so I replaced it with a placebo, that way I was at least aware of what was happening.
I’ve used the Rohypnol on him a few times; he gets especially aggressive after these sorts of events, so I pretend he just drank a lot and passed out. It seems to have worked so far, even with his control freak tendencies.
Ace gets up after he finishes his glass, indicating it’s time to head back to the house. He stumbles as we walk through the tables, his already tight grip on my arm tightening further, and I know I’ll have more bruises tomorrow.
“Must have drunk more than I thought,” he mumbles as we step into the cool fall air. Tom is already waiting and helps me get Ace into the SUV, his hand brushing mine as he pulls away, sending pleasurable shivers down my arm.
“Home?” he asks me quietly. His blue eyes boring into mine then flicking to Ace.
“Yes please, Tom,” I whisper back. His gaze flits to my neck, likely noticing the bruises peeking out of my collar. His whole body hardens, and his chiselled jaw clenches as he starts to reach out towards me.
“Don’t,” I plead, which stops him in his tracks. A look of frustration comes over his face, then he huffs out a breath, looking ahead as I climb in next to Ace, Tom shutting the door behind me.
The journey is short, Ace unconscious the whole time. He should be out for several hours which gives me plenty of time to put my plan into action.
We pull up outside of the house, and I look up, seeing Tom’s blue gaze in the rearview mirror, his dark blond hair pushed off his forehead. A sudden image of me running my hands through its softness, and feeling his stubbled jaw under my lips, flashes through my mind. My breath hitches at the memory.
“Can you help me with him please, Tom?” I ask, voice quiet. I don’t dare utter my other request until Ace is tucked up into bed.
“Of course,” he practically growls, getting out of the car and opening Ace’s door.
Tom grabs him, cracking Ace’s head on the frame as he pulls him out of the car. Hoisting Ace up over his shoulder, he walks up the path as I follow behind, stepping up to open the door. Tom carries him up the stairs, going to Ace’s bedroom, and throws him onto the bed before turning to face me.
I put a finger to his lips before he can utter a word, shaking my head. He indicates the door, and I pull my hand back, turning around and leaving the room. I walk to my bedroom, opening the door, and stepping inside. Tom is quick on my heels, leaving the door slightly ajar as he, too, steps inside.
“Let me see,” he asks, voice firm and eyes pained.
I reach behind me and undo the collar, letting the dress slink down to the floor in a whisper of jewels. Tom lets out a hiss as he catalogues all the new bruises littering my torso. Before now, I’ve tried to keep the worst of the bruising from him, it’s not like we get a lot of time together so it hasn’t been too difficult to do.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he fumes, making a move to step back through the door. He could take him too, they are evenly matched in stature and muscle. But Tom lacks Ace’s cruelty, and that would be his downfall if they ever came to blows.
“No!” I rush over, gripping his muscular bicep tightly to stop him. “Tom, please, I need your help,” I beg quietly. That pulls him up short, but I can see his chest heaving, and he’s vibrating with anger. “I need to leave tonight, and I need you to help me.”
“Why now?” he asks. It’s a fair question, he’s pleaded with me to leave Ace before, and I’ve always been too scared, so I refused. But it’s not just me anymore. I take his hand and place it over my stomach. His eyes widen in the darkness, and I feel his warm hand flex as he lightly caresses me there.
“What do you need?” he murmurs, hand still splayed over my stomach protectively.
“You mentioned before that your new brother-in-law, Enzo, has connections and can get things in and out of the country without a trace?” I question, a brief flicker of hope flaring to life inside of me.
He nods, understanding straight away what I’m asking.
“And I need a new identity that no one knows.” He nods again, his brows pinching a little.
“He can do that, I think,” he replies, his voice deep and soothing to me as it always is. My breath whooshes out of me as relief floods through my body, leaving my knees weak.
“Right,” I say shakily. “I need to change and grab a few things.”
I head towards my closet, stopping in the doorway. I have no idea what to take with me. As I dither, wasting precious seconds, I feel his warmth at my back. I want to lean into the comfort, but I manage to hold back, remaining upright. “I don’t know what to take,” I confess in a whisper, a lump in my throat.
“Comfortable clothes to travel in, things you can easily sell,” Tom says decisively, stepping into the closet and reaching for a duffel bag on a shelf. It spurs me into action, and I start grabbing underwear, jeans, and tops from various drawers and stuffing them into the bag. When it’s full, I turn to leave but stop as his warm hand lands on my bare waist.
“You might want to get dressed, Vi.” Tom chuckles from behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck.
“Oh, yes,” I mumble, my cheeks flaming. I step past him and quickly dress in some dark jeans, a long-sleeved top, a cashmere sweater, and my comfy leather boots. Grabbing my warm winter coat, I turn back, smiling at him.
“Ready,” I announce, voice still low. I know that Ace is out for the next four to six hours, but I can’t help feeling like he’s going to wake up any minute.
We head out of the bedroom then down the stairs, and Tom starts to head towards the front door.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I softly tell him as he looks back when he notices that I’m not following. He frowns but waits by the door as I make my way to Ace’s office.
I step inside and head straight to the desk, fear of even being in here hastening my steps. Behind the desk is a safe, and I crouch down, the moonlight lighting the keypad just enough for me to see. I discovered the code one day when Ace made me stand behind the desk for twenty-four hours with no food or drink for accidentally shrinking one of his cashmere jumpers in the wash.
I still breathe out a sigh of relief when the door clicks open. It’s not that full as far as safes go, and there’s a reason as to why his family wants mine. I find the stack of papers that I need, bonds for the company that were purchased using an advance of my dowry. Yes, I’ve got an honest to god dowry!
The next thing I take is an ornate wooden jewellery box. It contains old heirloom pieces all belonging to my family and now me. It’s mine by rights anyway, and I can maybe exchange the pieces for my passage.
Closing the safe, I stand up and head out of the room, hurrying to Tom who just looks at the items then takes them from me and puts them into my bag. He opens the door, letting in the refreshing night air, and I take a deep breath as I step through.
Freedom tastes like falling leaves and damp earth, and I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips as we drive away.
