Page 32 of Kiss & Collide
He crossed the lobby toward her in that long-legged, rangy stride of his. He still had the same square jaw and full, sculptural lips, and smudged black eyeliner that made his icy-blue eyes look even paler. But there were changes since she’d last seen him. His hair was longer, nearly to his shoulders, and the light ash brown was streaked with blond now. He was wearing a pin-striped blazer without a shirt, and she noticed a new tattoo on his left pec.
“Astrid said you were staying here,” he said, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth.
“Astrid? How did Astrid know? Astrid hates me.”
He shrugged, with all that sensual ease she remembered. “She doesn’t hate you. She found you … challenging. And she follows you on Insta. You posted a selfie from here.”
Violet closed her eyes and shook her head. “What the fuck. I don’t care if Astrid follows me on Insta.What are you doing here, Ian?”
“Violet?” Chase asked quietly behind her. “Is everything okay?”
She felt a bubble of hysterical laughter threatening to burst out and fought it back.Okay?The one and only guy she’d ever loved, the one and only guy who’d ever broken her heart had tracked her down at her hotel.
No, she wasn’t okay.
But he was here, and now she had no choice but to deal with him.
“I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder to Chase, her tone dismissive. “Thanks for the ride back.”
CHASE WATCHED INsilent shock as Violet stared down this guy—Ian.
Whowasthis asshole? Tall and rangy, with long dark blond hair, wearing skintight black pants, black boots, a jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and no shirt, tattoos all down his forearms and scattered across his torso. He was tricked out in a ton of silver rings and necklaces, and his eyes were smeared with black. Nobody dressed like that unless they were a pirate or a rock star, and since piracy was rare here in central England, he was guessing rock star. At least, hewantedto be a rock star.
The minute Violet laid eyes on him, she’d frozen like a deer in headlights.
Whoever the hell he was, he mattered to her. Which should have been fine, because she wasn’t supposed to matter tohim. That was their deal. But as he eyed this Ian asshole, clocking the greedy once-over the motherfucker was giving Violet, something suspiciously like jealousy started simmering in his gut.
He felt possessive and twitchy, fighting back a purely primal urge to step in between the two of them and assert himself. Violet would absolutely murder him if he tried that shit, though, without a doubt. And besides, it wasn’t his place. She wasn’t with him. Still,he’dbeen the one about to make her come in the back of the car not five minutes ago, and now he was being fuckingdismissedfor this asshole?
“Seriously, Violet?” he muttered.
She shot him one brief look, and her expression shut him right the fuck up. Violet—fierce, fearless Violet—was freaked out, caught off guard and shaken. He’d never seen that look on her face before. And fuck this guy for putting it there.
“I need to deal with this,” she said quietly.
“Am I interrupting something?” Ian said with a lazy shit-eating grin. He had the same subtle inflections in his British accent as Violet did, like they came from the same place.
“Yes,” Chase said at the same time Violet said no.
He scoffed. Yeah, fuck this guy. “Guess I’ll go then,” Chase said sarcastically. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stand there and glower at Ian until he shriveled up in fear and slunk back out the way he’d come in. But he reminded himself—again—that it wasn’t his place.
“See you in Hungary,” Violet said without looking back at him.
“Your room?” Ian asked her, eyebrows lifting. If she took this asshole up to her room right now—
“The bar,” she snapped, pushing past Ian and heading into the hotel bar off the lobby.
Ian rocked back on his heels. Then he looked at Chase and smiled again. “Better luck next time, mate.”
“Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath as Ian turned and followed Violet into the bar.
“What the fuck?” he said out loud, to no one.
Violet clearly had a history with Ian. And he’d promised her no strings, which meant if she wanted to head off with Ian, all he could do was stay out of her way and let her.
But fuck, he was mad. He didn’t like the guy on sight.
Running a hand through his hair, he tried to shake off this feeling. He felt … forgotten, irrelevant, small. As much as he hated to admit it, he feltintimidated. He knew he was good-looking. He’d heard it often enough in his life, even from Violet herself as recently as this morning. But he wasn’t …that, whatever that was. He wasn’t tight pants and tats, silver jewelry and guyliner. And if that’s what Violet wanted …
