Page 115 of Reckless King

“It was a mutual decision.”

She rests her hand on my arm, squeezing a little. “Well, her loss is our gain.”

I force myself to give her a flirtatious smile. The fact that it’s a shadow of my previous one is hopefully explained by my disappointment over my failed engagement.

With a long sip of my whiskey, I survey the area again. When I catch sight of the photographer heading our way, I take a deep breath and turn back to Missy. Then, in a slow, casual move, I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure I’ll eventually find a way to get past my disappointment.”

Her eyes flare, and she wets her lips. “Maybe I could help you with that.”

I tip my head low so it’s close to hers, hoping to God I’m giving the photographer enough of an opportunity. “If I ever get over Violet, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

The seductive smile falls from her face as disappointment clouds her gaze. Then she steps forward and brushes my hip. “Maybe you just need a helping hand.”

I angle away and smirk. “I have hands of my own.”

She pouts, but I’m done with this act. If the damn photographer hasn’t gotten the shot by now, he should be fired. It’s hard to miss the irony that the attention I’m courting from the press now is exactly what I was trying to avoid by fake dating Violet in the first place. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn fucking heartbreaking.

“Well, it’s been nice… catching up,” I say. “But I need to find my brother. Have a good night.”

“But Tate…”

I walk away, scanning the crowd for Roman. All I want is for this pretense to be over so I can have Violet back in my arms. But I’ll attend a hundred of these events to make sure Eric doesn’t win. That he’ll never threaten her again.

I force a smile to my face and disappear into the crowd.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

VIOLET

The earthy aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans wafts through True Brew as I straighten chairs and wipe down tables. Tonight is our first tasting night, and I’m a jumble of excitement and anxiety. Worries about whether people will show up and what they’ll think of our samples have haunted me all day.

I’ll gladly soak in the trickle of panic those concerns bring, because beneath that is a deep well of pain. I haven’t heard from Tate since I left my engagement ring at his apartment and walked out two weeks ago. Not only that, but I’ve seen the photos. Tate at various events with beautiful woman after beautiful woman. The last image I was confronted with flashes through my mind. A magazine spread open to the society pages: Tate standing too close to a stunning woman in a red dress that plunged nearly to her navel. They looked striking together. If I thought my heart couldn’t break any more than it did when I left Tate’s penthouse, then I was wrong. Seeing him so completely unaffected, as if he’s forgotten about me already, has tears flooding my eyes at random times throughout the day.

I push those painful thoughts aside once again. I lost focus on True Brew for a while, let myself get distracted. But I won’t allow myself to lose track of what’s important ever again.

When I’ve finished setting out the tasting cups, I make my way to the counter. Despite my heartache, I can’t help but smile at the sight of the variety of coffee blends in decorative labeled urns.

“Chin up, boss.” Jarrod emerges from the back room. “Everything looks great. Tonight is going to be amazing.”

I force a smile. “You think so?”

He squeezes my shoulder, his eyes warm with understanding. “I know so. Now, tell me what else I can do to help.”

I breathe deep, letting the aroma of coffee and Jarrod’s confidence bolster me. I’ve worked too hard—we’veworked too hard—for this night to not be a success.

Tate be damned, I’ll do my best to enjoy this moment.

“I’m here!” Anna dashes in from the back. “Tell me what I can do.”

I rush to her and wrap my arms around her. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Always, Vi. I’ll always come.” She grasps my upper arms and holds me away from her to study my face. “Are you doing okay?”

Tears form on my lashes, but I blink them away. “I’ll be fine.” It’s the same thing I’ve been telling her since she picked me up from Tate’s.

“I know you will. You’re going to be more than fine. Now, point me in the direction you need me.”

“Help me arrange the pastries?”

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