Filed to story: Violet and Rowan Ashcroft Book PDF Free
I zip the bag and set it aside. “I knew.”
She blinks. “You did?”
“The way he watches you,” I say simply. “You don’t look at people like that unless you care.”
Camille’s expression softens, something vulnerable flickering across her face. “Huh.”
I glance at her then. “Are you happy?”
She nods. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good,” I say. “You deserve that.”
She smiles, small and real.
The rain picks up outside.
We grab our things and head for the door.
We step out onto the porch and stop short.
A black SUV idles at the curb, lights low, engine quiet. Not flashy. Not marked. Just… present. Like it’s been there longer than we have.
ODGAnd then the driver steps forward.
He’s tall, dressed in a dark coat, already holding an umbrella out before either of us can react. He positions it over us smoothly, like this is routine.
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
Camille freezes beside me. “Uh-who the hell are you?”
The man doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smile. Just inclines his head slightly. “I was hired by Mr. Ashcroft to provide transportation this morning.”
My stomach drops.
Camille’s head snaps toward me. “Rowan Ashcroft?”
I don’t answer because I don’t have one.
The man continues, polite and professional. “I’ll be taking you both to Ashcroft Industries.”
Silence settles heavy between us, broken only by the rain tapping against the umbrella.
Camille slowly pulls her phone from her pocket. “I’m just-going to verify that.”
“Of course,” the man says calmly.
She steps aside and dials, pacing once before Theo picks up.
“Theo,” she says immediately. “There’s a black SUV outside my house and a man claiming Rowan sent him to pick us up.”
A pause.
Then Theo’s voice comes through loud enough that I can hear it faintly. “Yeah. That’s legit.”
Camille stops pacing. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Theo says. “Rowan set it up late last night. Said it was temporary.”
“Temporary?” she repeats.
“He didn’t specify,” Theo replies. “But if it helps, I’d be more concerned if he hadn’t done this.”
Camille glances at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “You knew about this?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Theo continues, “You’re safe. Driver’s solid. Name’s Marcus. Former private security.”
O ODG
REEA
Camille sighs. “You’re really not going to explain this, are you?”
Theo chuckles. “Not my job.”
She ends the call and pockets her phone, looking between the SUV and me.
“Well,” she says slowly. “Looks like you’ve been upgraded again.”
I stare at the vehicle, at the quiet certainty of it waiting for us.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I mutter.
Camille snorts. “You never do.”
OIDG
Rowan
The moment I step into the building, I know I’ve made a mistake.
Because there-right at the security station, past the turnstiles and the polished marble-is Avery.
Crying.
Not quiet tears. Not dignified sadness. Full-on sobbing, shoulders shaking, mascara streaking down her face as she clutches the edge of the desk and demands to see me like the world has ended.
1 glance at my watch.
Two minutes late.
I swear under my breath.
I am never late. Never. It’s not a quirk, it’s a rule. A line I don’t cross. But last night my mind wouldn’t shut up-Violet’s mother, her brother, that detective circling like a vulture, and Violet herself, standing steady under pressure most people would have folded under.
The only person I wasn’t thinking about was Avery.
And yet, here she is.
As I walk past, I don’t slow. “Go home,” I say flatly. “You’re not getting your job back.”
Her head snaps up. “Rowan, please-“
“Enough.”
I keep moving.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she drops.
Actually drops.
Down onto her knees in the middle of the lobby, hands clasped like she’s praying, voice breaking as she begs me to hear her out. Says she needs help. Says she doesn’t know who else to turn to. Says she’s scared.
I stop.
I hate that part of me-the part that feels something at that. Pity, maybe. Or annoyance tangled up with obligation. Either way, I know I’m going to regret what comes next.
I turn back to the security guard. “Let her through.”
The guard hesitates, then nods and unclips the gate.
Avery scrambles to her feet and immediately tries to latch onto me-arms reaching, lips aiming for my check.
I shove her back without hesitation.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” I say coldly.
She stumbles but stays upright, tears still spilling, nodding rapidly like she’s grateful just to be allowed to breathe the same air as me.
I straighten my suit and continue toward the elevators.
She follows.
Of course she does.
The elevator doors slide open.
And there-inside already-are Violet and Camille.
I expected Violet. Of course I did. She’s never late. Camille, though-that’s interesting.
My attention snaps to Violet before I can stop it.
White pencil skirt. Crisp. Precise. A black blouse that dips just enough to be intentional without being careless. Her hair is pulled into a smooth bun that exposes her neck, and there’s a thin gold chain resting against her skin that draws the eye whether you want it to or not.
She looks… composed.
No. Better than that.
She looks unshakeable.
She steps forward the second she sees me, not surprised in the slightest by Avery’s presence.
“Good morning,” she says calmly, already sliding my schedule into my hand.
My coffee follows. Black. Perfect temperature. Two ice cubes. A blueberry muffin, warmed exactly the way I like it.
She doesn’t miss a beat.
She never does.
I don’t say anything.
I don’t need to.
But behind me, Avery makes a small, broken sound. A sharp inhale. Disbelief.
I feel the corner of my mouth threaten a smirk.
I don’t let it show.
The elevator doors close, sealing the four of us inside.
Avery stands rigid, staring at Violet like she’s seeing a ghost wearing designer clothes. Violet doesn’t look back at her. She’s already back at her tablet, fingers moving, focused, untouchable.
The ride up is silent.
When the doors open on my floor, I step out without looking back.
Avery follows.
So does Violet.
And for the first time that morning, despite everything-
I don’t regret being late.
Because the system is functioning exactly the way it should.
And Avery is finally realizing she’s no longer part of it.
The moment the door closes behind us, Avery finally finds her voice.
“Why is she coming into your office?” she demands, heels clicking sharply as she gestures toward Violet like she’s an inconvenience that wandered in uninvited.
Violet doesn’t even look at her.
“I won’t be long,” Violet says calmly, already stepping past her. “I just need to go over something on your personal calendar.”
Avery scoffs. “Isn’t that job meant for your personal assistant? Not your receptionist?”
Violet doesn’t respond.
She doesn’t bristle. She doesn’t defend herself. She simply ignores Avery’s existence entirely-and that, more than anything, rattles her.
I take my seat behind the desk without comment.
Violet steps forward immediately, professional, composed. She places my tablet in front of me with the calendar already pulled up.
“Theo finalized most of today’s schedule,” she says evenly. “Marketing prep at ten, legal call moved to eleven-thirty, and the investor check in remains at two. He also added a meeting for 4pm as well.”
She scrolls once. Pauses.
“He referred to them as an old friend,” Violet continues. “He didn’t give me more detail than that.”I don’t react.
Because I know exactly who it is.
The Pl.
“Everything else has been spaced to avoid overlap,” she finishes. “You’ll have buffer time between meetings.”
I glance at the screen, nod once. “Approved.”
Violet inclines her head. “That’s all.”
She turns and heads for the door.
Avery watches her go like she’s watching a crime unfold in slow motion.
