Page 43 of Love & Other Disasters

Seventeen

They sat at the small two-person table in his kitchen. Violet stared at his laptop in disbelief like he’d done every day for three weeks. He watched her face scrunched in concentration. If she figured it out, she was a genius. But, no matter how smart either of them were, they couldn’t make stolen money reappear. What did Melvin do with it? He transferred it to an offshore shelter account.

With only the one-bulb light fixture over the table illuminated, the rest of the condo fell into charcoal shadows. It was clean with a few boxes left unpacked along one wall of his bedroom. He didn’t have time to worry about things like décor or shopping, and that meant renting furnished apartments. There wasn’t much to glean about his personal style from his surroundings.

Violet muttered and scrolled, brown eyes glinting in the overhead light. She’d end up with a headache before too long. He knew from experience. He’d had a headache ever since this mess began. J.P. retrieved the bottle of pain killers and took two, then brought the bottle to Violet setting it and a glass of water next to her. Without acknowledging him, she popped two of the pills with the water and returned to scrolling. After some time, Violet swore and shut the laptop, and placed her head on top of it.

“There’s a half million dollars missing.” she said.

“At least.” He would bet there was more funds misappropriated, perhaps company credit cards opened that he hadn’t found yet.

“What will happen to the company?” she whispered, looking at him.

“Not sure,” his voice came out hoarse. He stopped breathing altogether when tears fell down her cheeks. “No, honey, don’t…” J.P. slid to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her as she slumped against his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about me,” she sniffed. “It’s Monique, Bonnie, and everyone else. So many more people.” Violet dissolved into tears.

With her job on the line, she was worried about everyone but herself. Most people wouldn’t think twice about anyone else when their own job was on the chopping block. But, Violet was so sweet, and her altruism touched him. He’d been wrong to worry about her lying to him. While what had happened was bizarre, she wasn’t the con woman he’d feared.

“I will not let the company close without a fight,” he whispered into her hair. J.P. squeezed her tight against him, her hands on his back. He inhaled the aroma of her coconut shampoo. The desire to taste her lips again built. He’d fantasized about the little spitfire he’d shared a bed with, and even though they’d kissed tonight, now wasn’t the time. He brought his attention back to comforting her.

“How can it survive?” she asked, sitting up, she rubbed the wetness on his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

“There are ways,” he said, trying out optimism. He’d been considering that reorganizing under chapter 11 bankruptcy was the way to go, if unable to recoup enough from Melvin. But everything hinged on his conversation with Bob and the legal team.

Violet nodded. “Okay, well this has been a wild few days.” She looked at him, her brown eyes studying his face, she stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “At least you didn’t bruise.”

He nodded. J.P. imagined having to tell people that a high as a kite Shaman of the Order of Protectors had punched him. No one would believe him. He stood and pulled Violet to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and squeezed, her softness comforting.

“So tomorrow’s meeting is with Bob and the legal team?”

“Yes.”

She looked up, “Why didn’t you tell Bob first?”

“I had to find out if he was involved.”

“Wouldn’t he have disappeared like Melvin did?” Violet asked.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes these guys have big egos and think they’ll never be caught.”

Violet laughed and buried her face back against his chest.

He liked her against him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Right,” he said, “I’m guessing you have something to say about my ego, Ms. Murphy. Come on, don’t be shy now with that sharp tongue of yours.”

“I don’t have a sharp tongue,” she looked up, eyes wide. “I am shy,” she whispered.

He smiled, and grabbed her hand and led her to the couch. “You’d never once shied away from telling me off, and,” he sat and motioned for her to sit next to him, “it’s a turn on.”

“Do you want to ponder the psychology of that for a minute?” Violet curled up on the sofa next him, slipping off her shoes and propping her foot on the side of the coffee table.

“Not at all,” he said, and she laughed. “Let me stay in the dark on that one. Why are you suddenly afraid to tell me I have an ego? You’ve gone toe to toe with me even when it could have cost you your job.”

“And it turns you on?”

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