Again, I can relate, though I’m loath to admit that I can relate to Zachary fucking Lawrence. But that incessant need is always clawing at my gut, reminding me that I must strive for more. I want to rise above it all, show everyone who I am and what I can do. At least I don’t have a girlfriend on my arm who I’m pretending I love just to get ahead.

Clearly, Zachary Lawrence wins the Asshole of the Year award, not me. Though I’m close.

After what I plan on doing to Violet, I’ll probably surpass him.

“Thank you again for tolerating me,” Violet says from over her shoulder as I reach out to open the door for her. Tolerate her. She’s hilarious. I’d give anything to show her what a hardship it would be to tolerate her.

By stripping her out of that dress. Seeing what she has on beneath it. Then proceeding to kiss her all over that sexy body …

“Always a pleasure, Violet,” I say, smiling at her as I pull open the door.

We reenter the building at the exact time Lawrence and Pilar emerge from the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. The two of them appear disheveled, especially Lawrence. His hair looks like her fingers just ran through it repeatedly, his tie is askew, and his pants are wrinkled. Pilar’s lipstick is completely gone, her mouth swollen, and the triumphant smile she’s wearing says it all.

That must’ve been some quick blow job.

“Funny running into you here.” Pilar sounds as if she’s ready to burst into laughter. At least Lawrence has the decency to appear contrite. And guilty as fuck. “And what are you two doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Violet says, charging toward Lawrence like she wants to head butt him. Instead she reaches out and shoves at his chest, sending him jerking backward. “What exactly did you do, Zachary? Sneak off and fuck her in the bathroom? Or was it just a quick blow job in a hallway? I know that’s your usual style.”

Whoa. That was completely unexpected. “Violet …” I start, but I’m cut off.

“Stop it, Violet,” Lawrence says, angrily spitting out her name like it’s a curse. “Don’t make a scene.”

“Why not? For once in my life, I’d absolutely love to make a scene.” She shoves at him again, a little harder this time, but he’s prepared for the blow and stands his ground. “I can only take so much, Zachary. You really believe I’d turn a blind eye when you screw around with someone we work with in public? Someone I’d have to face day in and day out while you’re off in London having the time of your life, proving yourself to Daddy and propositioning every female you meet?”

“You have before, darling, so why change now?” Pilar drawls, and I send her a warning look.

“This isn’t your argument. Stay out of it,” I murmur under my breath. Jesus, she has some nerve. She needs to keep her mouth shut.

And I’m completely fascinated with Violet’s behavior. Who knew she was so fiery? We could blame the wine, and I’m guessing that’s a contributing factor, but when someone drinks, the truth usually comes out.

And the truth is that Violet Fowler has a backbone. It might be buried deep, but it’s definitely in there.

“Why should I stay out of it? Let’s be very real here. You’re going to accuse us of any wrongdoing, but you’re the ones sneaking back inside with each other. And I’m positive the two of you have been up to no good,” Pilar says, the disgust in her voice abundantly clear. “When are you up to any good, Ryder? What dirty trick do you have up your sleeve now? Remember, I know who you are. What you like.”

I’m stunned. She’s practically calling me out, as if she had no part whatsoever in our little plan. What’s her real motive here? She’s making me sound as slimy as Lawrence and I fucking can’t stand it.

Reaching out, I grab hold of Pilar’s arm, clamping my fingers tight. “We were outside talking,” I stress as I lower my mouth closer to her ear. “What the fuck are you doing?”

She ignores my question and doesn’t say a word, pulling herself out of my grip and rubbing her arm as if I hurt her. And this bitch likes it when I hurt her. I’ve done it enough in the past.

“Let’s go.” Lawrence brushes right past me, sending me a furious glare before he takes hold of Violet’s wrist, gripping it like a manacle, and starts to escort her back into the party. But she shakes out of his grasp, stepping away from him and nearly backing into me.

“Don’t touch me.”

He turns to face her. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Violet shakes her head. “No. You’re not calling the shots any longer. We’re through, Zachary. I can’t live like this. You don’t really want to be with me. You want what my name can give you, what my father can give you, but you don’t love me. You just love what I represent.”

Lawrence stares at her, breathing so heavily I can hear him. “We’re not having this discussion here. Not now,” he whispers, his voice almost a hiss. “We’re leaving, Violet. We’ll go back to your place and talk about this. Privately.”

“I’m not leaving with you. You’re not coming over.” She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her breasts, which I can see through the lace front of her dress. She’s furious, her cheeks are a flaming pink and her eyes blaze with unrestrained anger and hurt, but she won’t back down. It’s Lawrence who finally gives in first.