A Whole New Light (2 page)

“What do you have to do?” Violet peered up at him, an almost maternal expression on her face.

“What the hell does it matter?”

Her eyes flashed. “I worry about you.”

“Well, don’t.” Shit. How had he created this image of himself in her eyes, so foreign to who he really was that he didn’t even recognize the person she saw. He stared down at her, unblinking.

Her lips parted on a tiny, imperceptible gasp. “What’s wrong?” “Violet, you don’t know the first thing about me.”

Confusion creased her normally smooth forehead. “I know enough.” “Oh? Like what?”

“You keep everyone at a distance. You’re brilliant.”

He cocked a brow. “Tell me something no other coworker knows?” He knew this wasn’t her fault. He’d created this beast, but it didn’t stop the irrational anger that she never saw through it.

“Why are you being like this?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. See you Monday.”

He walked past her, but before he could escape, her soft hand fell on the warm skin of his forearm. An electric shock jolted up his arm. Son of a bitch. So pathetic. Thank God she had no idea. At least he’d done one thing right in this debacle.

He peered down at her.

“Ethan, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing. I just need to take off.” He’d meant to come off as bored, but each word shot out like a bullet.

“We’re friends,” she started, searching his face for clues to his sullen behavior.

He couldn’t take one more fucking minute of this. “Are we?” He pulled away and weaved his way through the crowd, not bothering to look back.

This stopped now. Jesus. With the way he was acting, even he was hard-pressed to recognize the Master. He’d hit the restroom then take off. Put this party—and Violet— behind him. Cold turkey. No more lunches. No more IMs throughout the day. No more long, leisurely dinners when they traveled. No more drinks. Or morning coffees.

Complete detox.

He made his way down the hallway, pausing at the closed bathroom door. He jiggled the knob. Locked. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against the wall. From the closed room he heard a muffled moan, followed by a low groan. Great. Inconsiderate assholes taking up the only bathroom to fuck. He shook his head, straightening.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her bedroom door slightly ajar. She must have a master bath. She wouldn’t care if he used it. After all, they were such good buddies. He walked toward it, pushing open the door with the touch of his fingers.

He’d never seen her bedroom. He glanced around. Froze. It wasn’t what he expected. He’d expected girly pinks and floral.

It wasn’t. It was sensual. Deep blood reds, satin sheets, dark, almost gothic-looking furniture. It was beautiful. Exactly how he would have decorated. The room looked ripe

for sex. Carnal. Decadent. The carved headboard with its planks and scrolls the perfect place to tie a woman down.

His cock hardened as his mind slid to an image of Violet, bound, slithering over those sheets, her black hair the perfect complement to the wine-red pillows. Under his complete control.

Stop it.
Stick to the plan. He headed into the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later he emerged from the facilities, pausing to take one more look around the room. Not at all what he expected. Was it possible he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did? He shook his head. Didn’t matter. The facts didn’t change. She wasn’t interested, and while she obviously had a sensual side, it didn’t make her submissive. End of story.

He took two steps only to halt. His heartbeat rose into his throat. No, he was mistaken. Looking for something that wasn’t there. He looked again. Was there a woman in handcuffs on the cover of the book peeking out from under her bed?

His gaze slid to the cracked door. He should leave. Invading her privacy would be wrong. He took a step toward the door. Fuck it. He swung around and kneeled by the bed, pulling the book from its hiding place. Blood rushed through his veins.
Holy shit.
A woman blindfolded and handcuffed filled the image of the cover. He flipped it over, skimming the jacket.

Was it possible he was wrong? Did Violet crave submission? She certainly hid it well. He’d been into dominating for a long time, he was good at it. Knew the signs. He’d caught the faint hint of desires other men would miss, but he’d never sensed any in her. Maybe it was just a curiosity. He leaned down and lifted the bed skirt. He shouldn’t be doing this but didn’t care. He needed to know. Underneath was a box. He pulled it out, lifting the lid. His cock went hard as steel. Not a passing fancy at all.

His little Violet had a secret.

He’d bet a million dollars she’d never submitted to any man. Every instinct he had told him she’d never been claimed. That she’d never experienced her darkest fantasy.

He pushed the box back under her bed.

End of story, his ass. Violet was about to get the surprise of her life.

With two steaming coffees in hand, Violet made her way to Ethan’s office. She didn’t know what had happened on Saturday, but she was determined to find out.

She depended on his good nature. Her friendship with Ethan was important. In a way she didn’t quite understand, she needed him. She couldn’t explain it. They’d been working together for three years, and she’d felt a kinship with him from the second they’d met. Of course it had taken her a year for him to treat her as anything other than a passing acquaintance. Maybe that was it. With Ethan, unlike most men, he didn’t have ulterior motives. He never tried to get into her pants. Never made suggestive comments. He made her feel like a person instead of a prize to be won.

Around Ethan, she could relax. And she loved that about him.

Lately, it seemed as if Ethan was the only person she felt comfortable around. With her demanding job, she had to have her charisma pumped up to maximum capacity, and more and more she found she just wanted someone she could curl up next to in her sweats. She could do that with Ethan.

So, whatever was bothering him, she’d fix it.

Immersed in whatever complexities were displayed on his computer screen, Ethan didn’t notice her. That was Eth’s way, single-minded and focused.

What was bothering him? It couldn’t be that bad. If it was, wouldn’t she have a clue? She took a deep breath before blowing it out slowly. “Hey, I brought you coffee.”

He jerked his attention away from the computer screen, his blue eyes narrowing behind his wire-rimmed frames.

Her gaze drifted to the chair in front of his desk. “Can I come in?” He nodded. “Shut the door.”

She blinked, her heart kicking up for some unexplained reason. She took the three steps into his office, placed one of the cups on the desk before outstretching the other in a peace offering. He stared at the cup for a second then slid his hand along her own. “Don’t forget the door, Violet.”

Something about the way he spoke made her pulse thud. He sounded almost… She searched for the word, but came up blank. Not like him. She released the cup into his capable grasp then stepped back to shut the door. He said nothing as she sat.

She shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable under his watchful gaze. Why should she feel nervous? It was just Ethan. He looked exactly the way he always did, neat brown hair, white button-down and khakis. Yep, exactly the same, in what she fondly called his uniform. She cleared her throat. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yes. You?”

She shrugged. God, this tension was brutal. She wanted that easy feeling back. “I was bothered by what you said Saturday.”

“Forget it.” Still, he didn’t look away from her, his gaze intense enough she shivered.

She ran her hands through her hair, flipping it back over her shoulder. “I don’t want to. The thing is, you’re right.”

“About what?” He sat forward, putting his elbows on the desk.

“I don’t know much about you.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “But you also don’t let me in. I’d like to change that.”

“And why’s that?”

Huh? Why wasn’t he putting her at ease like he always did? She bit her lip. “I just do.”

“Try again.” He smiled at her then, in a way she’d never seen, transforming his attractive but bland face into something carnal and wicked.

Butterflies took flight in her stomach. She clenched her suddenly sweaty hands in her lap. “Why are you being like this? It isn’t you.”

The phone on his desk rang, making her jump clear out of her seat. He didn’t even glance at it, just kept his blue-eyed gaze locked on her. The ringing stopped, plunging the room into silence. “That’s the point, Violet, this is exactly who I am.”

The walls seemed to be closing in on her. Her fingers fluttered to the small silver chain that held a pale lavender sapphire her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. “W-what do you mean?” This was Ethan, for god’s sake, she didn’t have a reason in the world to be nervous.

He got up and came around the desk. She normally dated tall men, but now, Ethan, who was probably only six feet with a good measuring stick, seemed to fill the whole space in a way those men didn’t. She stayed rooted to the chair, resisting the urge bolt.

He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. His corded forearms flexing with the movement. Violet had never noticed how strong they were. She stared at them, at his long fingers. He could wrap one hand around both her wrists with no trouble at all. She blinked. Why would he do that?

Her belly heated and she felt herself flush. He cocked a brow. “Hot?”

The word rolled off his tongue, giving the question another meaning entirely.
Stop this.
It was her imagination. She didn’t think sexually about Ethan. “It’s stuffy in here,” she cleared her throat, “with the door closed.”

Yes, that was it. She needed to get that door open. Needed room to breathe. That must be the problem.

“Hmm…is that it?”

Why did it seem as if some sort of table had turned? She needed to escape. She glanced at her watch and lied. “I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“No you don’t. You want to escape.”

She stood up, fighting to gain back some of her customary control. A control she sometimes longed to give up.
No, don’t think about that now.
Trying to sound light and breezy, she laughed. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m making you nervous.”

They were too close. She took a step back and banged into the chair. His lips curved into a knowing smirk, and she had the urge to slap it off his face. “Y-you’re crazy. We’re friends.”

He raised a finger and traced the pendant at her throat, never touching skin. She gasped. Why was he being like this? What had changed?

“Where’d you get this?”

What was going on? Where was
her
Ethan? And who was this guy? “My mom.” He rubbed at it. “It’s pretty. It matches your eyes.”

She glanced at her watch again. “Oh, look at the time, I’ve got to run.”

Ethan’s fingers dropped from her throat, and she released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. He nodded. “Before you do, there’s something you need to know.”

She stepped to the side, moving around the chair. “What’s that?”

“I saw the stuff under your bed. And my days of being your best girlfriend are over.”

Violet had run.

There had been no other choice. Her heart still pounded in her ears as she leaned against her closed office door. She should be furious, but at this second, the panic consumed her.

He’d seen her stuff. The hidden stash under the bed. Her secret. She’d never told a soul about her desires for submission. Who would believe it? She didn’t even believe it.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. On shaky legs she walked to her desk, sinking down into the chair. The phone rang and she jumped, gaze flying to the caller ID. It was only her salesperson Jeff. Somehow she’d been sure it was Ethan. Heat crawled up her legs, rolled over her stomach and chest.

He knew. He knew. He knew.
A hysterical bubble of laughter rose in her throat. She pressed her ice-cold fingers to burning cheeks.
Calm down.

She forced slow, deep breaths in and out of her lungs, willing her heart rate to slow. She needed a plan.

Her computer dinged.

Pulse kicking back up to two-forty, she turned toward the screen.

Ethan Savage:
Be forewarned, you don’t have long until I come get you.

A healthy dose of anger fought its way through the panic. Latching on to it as if it were her last lifeline, she swung toward the monitor. Her fingers stalled for a split second before she struck out.

Violet Moore:
Go to hell.

Her pinky smacked the enter button, sending the message into cyberspace. She stared at it, groaning. Lame. He deserved much worse than that. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. And now he knew she’d lied about the damn meeting.

Ding.
Her head snapped up.

Ethan Savage:
I like feisty. Keep it up, and I’ll be banging down your door in no time.

Her entire body went hot. Her stomach clenched. She gasped. Ethan was not turning her on. No. She was mad. That was her problem.

This wasn’t the man she knew. The man she knew was safe. The man she called her friend would never go through her things. She should be giving him a piece of her mind. Laugh at the preposterous notion of him being dominant. It was Ethan Savage, for god’s sake. The most harmless man in the company.

Was it an act? She moved the curser over the X that would close her out of the instant messenger. She’d think about it later. Give herself time to gather her—

Ethan Savage:
Close IM and I’ll be at your door in thirty seconds flat.

Her index finger twitched. How did he know? Should she risk it? Call his bluff? She hovered over the exit button.

Except she wasn’t sure he was and she couldn’t face him. Not when all her emotions bubbled this close to the surface. Not when he knew her deepest, darkest secret.

Violet Moore:
What do you want from me?