Page 62 of Sweet Venom
And she’s sleeping.
Today was her day off at the bar. I know because I followed her around earlier, from a safe distance. She went to the movies with Dahlia and a kid—her coworker’s daughter.
Now, even I was wondering why the fuck I was sitting at the back of the movie theater while people were laughing at a cringe-fest animated movie.
Oh, right. Because the surge of adrenaline hadn’t left my veins, and I had to see her.
Strangle her for the Kane comment.
But I got distracted because she was laughing in a carefree way I’d never witnessed before. During the entire movie, Violet would answer the kid’s whispered questions, feeding her popcorn, wiping her mouth, and doing a shit ton of other things that didn’t include watching the screen. Like checking her phone.
Twice.
Then the three of them went for dinner, and I was at the back again, ordering drinks and blending in with some tall motorcycle gang guys to avoid drawing attention to myself.
There are two things I noticed during that dinner. Dahlia is a chatterbox who doesn’t shut the fuck up, and Violet seems to smile from just listening to her talk. She even had this bright look on her face as if she was proud of her.
My highlight, however, was when Violet wiped some sauce from the kid’s chin and licked her fingers, her tongue peeking out the slightest bit.
I had a flashback of when she sucked on my finger. The sauce was blood, though.
I know I said there wouldn’t be a post-practice fuck, but my cock protested profusely after I merely saw her lips wrapped around her fingers.
Let’s just say I was so close to grabbing her by the throat and dragging her out of there so those lips could be around something a lot harder.
And bigger.
But the kid was asking for ice cream, so, of course, Violet got up and bought her some from a nearby ice cream truck. In front of which a creep kept close to her. So close, actually, that I’m pretty sure his limp erection brushed against her ass.
In pure Violet fashion, she tactfully backed away without any commotion, handing the ice cream to the grinning kid and walking back to Dahlia.
Did I pull the creep into an alley and bash his head against the wall? Maybe.
Listen, I’m a violent man. Someone touches what belongs to me, and I respond in the best way I know how. By inflicting pain.
Blame my father.
That’s what he taught me and Julian—aside from never believing in those silly things called feelings.
That’s been doing my brother’s train wreck of a marriage wonders, by the way, so I’m also a firm nonbeliever. I don’t know of a single happy marriage in my entourage.
At any rate, I don’t think Violet saw me, and if she did, she’s getting way better at wearing her favorite poker face, because she never once paid me any attention.
Not that I wanted her to. I was only there to observe because Mario needs a few more days to get back, and I don’t fully trust his replacement.
Violet bought the kid an expensive thirty-dollar doll. And it is expensive in her financial clusterfuck, because she barely has any money in her account. Yes, I checked. She’s constantly writing in the stupid journal that they’re alwaysshort on money and she wishes Dahlia would stop buying her unnecessary shit.
Patches for back pain—that’s what’s unnecessary in Violet fucking Winters’s book.
I’m glad Dahlia called her out on the doll after they dropped the kid off at her mom’s and made it back to their place. I was outside on the balcony. Sue me.
“Karly doesn’t really have toys, Dahl,” Violet said, giving her sister a glass of milk—seriously, what? “And Laura is really struggling.”
“You’re struggling, too,” Dahlia said what I was thinking.
“Yeah, but I’m not dealing with fighting an abusive ex in a child custody case. Besides, I never had any toys growing up, so I wanted to bring some happiness to Karly. That’s all.”
“Aw, Vi. All right, but don’t strain yourself, okay?”
