Page 48 of Chips & Checks
“Renee, did you buy Violet a really expensive built-in stool for the therapy room?” Dante asks.
Renee shakes her head, making her ombre-tinted curls tumble around her shoulders. “No, sir. I merely authorized the work order.”
Sergio abandons his blotting efforts. “Renee! You do not call him ‘sir.’ I’m the boss.I’msir!”
Renee clasps her hands in front of her and nods. “Yes, Sergio.”
“Dammit,” Sergio mutters. He clenches the napkin in his hand and crumples it.
Dante carries on as though this small aside never occurred. “Whose work order, Renee?”
Renee lowered her gaze to the floor. “Um… the purchase was made by Bowen Murphy.”
Wait, what?
What does it mean that he’d do this? Bowen doesn’t give gifts. It’s in writing. But he gave this—to me. My pulse quickens annoyingly. It’s just a stool. Except… it’s not. Bowen Murphy doesn’t do thoughtful. Yet here I am, trying not to melt because he bought me something that makes my life easier.
Dante groans. “Sergio, if you’re running things, why is Bowen Murphy, thenewguy, decorating the therapy room?”
Sergio casts about in search of Bowen, but now that I’m looking for him, I don’t see him, either. “That’s an excellent question. I was out of the loop on this one. I think we should put a pin in this and come back to it later.”
“Leadership is all about getting things done,” Dante snaps. “Have I taught you nothing?”
As they continue to bicker, I side-step my way out of the conversation. Renee does the same but in the opposite direction. Neither of the Giovanetti men appears to notice.
I approach the bar for a drink, then set off in search of the man I’ve been avoiding since our second hookup. Why did Bowen buy me a stool? I’m sure there’s a selfish reason behind it, but try as I might, I can’t think of one. He must have contacted Renee about the order either the night we agreed to fake-date or the morning after. But why? It doesn’t make sense.
Unless he was just being nice. But again, why?
Just as I’m about to join Bowen at our assigned table, Chad appears from nowhere, stepping smoothly into my path. He smiles, too casual, too familiar.
“Violet. I was hoping we could talk for a second.” His gaze drops slowly, deliberately, traveling over me like he has every right to look. “You look incredible tonight, by the way.”
I stiffen, clutching my drink tighter. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Chad. I’m off the clock.”
He steps closer, his voice dropping lower. “C’mon, Vi. You don’t have to play coy. You’re playing a little game with Murphy. But you deserve someone who can handle you properly. Someone who appreciates every part of you.”
Anger bubbles hot beneath my skin. “Back off.”
“Or what?” He smirks, leaning in so close I can smell the sharp edge of whiskey on his breath. “You’ll have your littleboyfriendstep in? We both know that’s just an act. Murphy doesn’t do relationships, remember? It’s a known fact in the league. It’s all he talks about. His many conquests. Frankly, I’d be worried about his body count. And honestly—” He leans closer, voice practically a whisper, “—I’ve seen your type. You’re a lot of fun for a night or two, but you’re not exactly a long-term girl. If Murphy is panting around, he’s just biding his time until something thinner, taller, and more WAG-like comes along.”
My heart thuds painfully. Rage and humiliation rise in equal measure, threatening to spill over. “Get away from me. Now.”
He lifts his hands, mocking surrender, that smug grin firmly in place. “Suit yourself, Violet. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once the novelty wears off, you’ll be riding Murphy’s bench when you could have been riding my dick.”
He brushes past me roughly, hip bumping into me. I nearly spill my drink. My hands tremble, and I blink rapidly, determined not to cry.
I glance toward the table, and my breath catches sharply. I guess I found him. Bowen is watching us, every muscle in his body tense, his eyes locked onto Chad’s retreating form with cold fury.
He meets my gaze, silently questioning, protective anger burning hot in his eyes.
I slide into my seat next to him at a table with Viktor, Knova, Knight, Sofia, Tristan, and Camden. Even though we agreed on this seating arrangement in advance, I can’t repress the tiny flutter of nerves as I settle beside him. Everyone else is deep in a heated debate about some Netflix limited series I’ve never heard of, but Bowen’s attention immediately shifts to me, his eyes narrowed with concern.
“What did Chad say to you just now?” he asks quietly, voice tight.
I shrug, suddenly desperate not to revisit Chad’s venomous words. “It’s nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing, Vi.” Bowen’s jaw tightens. “You looked upset.”
