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“Yeah, that,” she said sheepishly, her smile in place. “I wouldn't use it on you.”
“I'd appreciate that very much.”
Sighing, she let her shoulders sag and gazed out the window at the palm trees and the beach a distance off. "I hope to get back to teaching someday. That's what I'm good at. What I love. I couldn't even tell my students I was leaving. I just turned in my resignation at the end of the semester. Hopefully, I'll find somewhere to settle down, get a new classroom, and maybe my life will have some semblance of normalcy once more."
I frowned. She fit so well with my kids, and in my home, I nearly forgot we were merely a stop on her way. A rung on the ladder to a future she truly wanted. Could I let her go? Over the past week, especially this afternoon, I'd softened toward her. She was no longer a stranger I employed to take care of my kids. She was a caring human being, struggling with her own challenges. Even if I didn't know her like Layla or Kate did, I still felt the need to keep her safe.
“Shawn, I hope you don't think I’ll put the kids or you in danger.”
“Violet—”
“I won't. Eric has no idea where I am. I was very careful. And even if he finds out somehow, he has never been violent. He just wouldn't stop bothering me, and I'd leave if it got to be too much. I need the job, and I'm good at it, I promise."
“Violet,” I said more firmly.
She straightened, her eyes wide and hopeful. She looked so goddamn vulnerable I wanted to pull her into a hug and stroke her back and hair, kiss her temple, and assure her everything would be alright.
Instead, I shoved those thoughts deep down. "I don't blame you, and I'm not going to fire you. The boys enjoy your company. You're doing a great job."
She relaxed and let out a relieved sigh. Still, her brow furrowed as she watched me. I'd told her where she stood concerning the kids and her job, but not with me. Those tempting thoughts resurfaced, but I had too much control for such nonsense.
“I won't let anyone get to you, Violet.”
Her chin trembled, and she sniffed. "You don't have to..."
"No." Before I could help myself, I reached across the table and placed a hand on hers. A shiver rushed up my arm, tightening my chest. As if she felt it too, she gasped softly and looked down at my hand on hers and back up to my eyes.
I should have pulled away, but I didn't. Instead, I curled my fingers around her soft palm and rubbed tenderly. Slowly, her fingers clasped mine like a lifeline.
“I won't let anyone get to you,” I swore hoarsely. “Eric or any other bastards who don't understand boundaries. You are safe at the penthouse. Safe with me. No one will find you or hurt you."
She stared up into my eyes.
“Do you understand?”
Nodding softly, she turned her head and gazed out the window. When she looked back at me, her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Thank you."
My heart constricted. All afternoon, she'd kept her emotions tightly leashed. Sniffing to hold back tears, somehow, that wall had crumbled.
“Sorry,” she chuckled, embarrassed, and withdrew her hand to pick up a tissue and dab at her eyes.
My open palm felt empty and cold without Violet's smaller one, but I knew the moment had passed. I withdrew my hand and faced my plate. My appetite was gone, replaced by a different hunger. Far more terrible, and it shook me to my core. I wanted to find Eric and throw him where he'd never get to Violet, disrupt her life or frighten her again.
I stared across the table at her. She was a strong woman. Leaving a life she loved, moving across the country, and putting up with a gruff asshole like me so she could escape a lunatic. I wasn't kidding. I'd help her, however I could.
With her confession over, we sat in a comfortable silence filled with understanding. At first, I hadn’t trusted her. Now that I heard her story, I understood her. Violet brought her glass to her lips and drained it.
“Want more?” I gestured to her empty glass.
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
I was almost tempted to ask if she wanted to take the rest of the day off. It must have been emotionally draining to speak about what she'd been through. Before I could find the words, her soft voice carried across the table.
“Do Leon and Brady like the beach?”
I could hear her loud and clear—she wanted to put her story behind us. Not make it a cloud that hung over the rest of the day. If I said anything more about it, even mentioned giving her time off, it might make her uneasy. So, I honored her unspoken wishes.
“They do.”
