Black Ties and White Lies(3)

He clears his throat. When I pull my gaze from the delicious veins of his hands, I find him smirking at me. “Are you done?” He’s blunt, even if there is a tinge of amusement laced in his voice. I’ve been alone in this conference room with him only for a few moments, and the tension between us could already be cut with a knife.

“Done with what?”

“Eye fucking me.”

I almost fall out of my chair at the boldness of his words.

“I wasn’t—”

A corner of his full lip twitches. “You totally were, Violet. Don’t pretend like you weren’t.”

My jaw snaps open and shut. Why is he using that name again? Why do I still love it? I have no freaking clue how to respond to him.

Again, he’s my new boss. Or at least I think he is. That’s what Emma called him. Darla seemed to be under the same impression. I need to know how long he’s been in charge.

And why is he here?

Most importantly, why is he staring at me like he wants to have his way with me?

“My name’s not Violet."

He runs his thumb over his plump bottom lip. “I know.”

Shaking my head, I wonder if maybe I had more wine last night than I remember. Am I dreaming? This entire scenario can’t be real.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, taking a deep breath. “I’m just wondering why you’re here? I’m a little confused on what’s happening…”

Sighing, he pushes the chair far enough from the table that he can cross one leg over the other. His ankle rests on the opposite knee, his perfectly shined shoes catching the light from the windows.

“You were ignoring my calls,” he explains, seemingly annoyed that he’s having to repeat himself.

“Yes. We just talked about this. I didn’t want to talk about your brother.”

“No, we didn’t talk about this. We started the conversation, but then you decided instead of listening, you were going to undress me with those large eyes of yours.” A loud vibrating sound halts his words. His straight eyebrows pull in as he reaches into a pocket inside his suit jacket. His eyes quickly scan the name on the screen before he silences the call. Tossing his phone onto the black wood table, he focuses on me once again. “If you’d been listening the first time, and not eye fucking me, you’d know I was telling you that me calling you had absolutely nothing to do with brother dearest.”

I bite my tongue, wanting to ask why he’s referencing Carter with such disgust. There’s clearly more to his feelings toward his brother than I’m aware of. Carter never seemed like the biggest fan of Beck, but he didn’t speak like he totally hated him. I can’t say the same from the tone of Beck’s voice just now.

“It didn’t?”

“Fuck no,” he spits. For a moment, there’s angry fire in his eyes. I’ve always been told I’m too curious for my own good, and I feel it in this moment. Everything in me is yearning to ask why he looks so angry when speaking of Carter, but I keep my lips sealed. I’m far more interested about why he’s here. “You’re better off without him. I’d never try and convince you otherwise.”

“I didn’t know that. I figured you were calling for him. I’d blocked his number after he called forty-six times in one night.”

“Pathetic,” he growls under his breath.

He straightens, both feet on the ground once again. Beck leans over the table, getting as close as possible to me. “Well, you ignoring me caused me to have to resort to other options.”

“Like what?”

He shows off his large wingspan as he widens his arms, gesturing to the dingy room around us. He looks out of place here, the fading paint on the walls and the fraying, stained carpet not fit for someone as regal looking as him. “Like buying this company.”

He did what? Surely I’m not understanding this correctly.

“What does buying this company have to do with me ignoring your calls?”

“Stop asking questions before you’ve even thought about it,” he fires back. “Isn’t it obvious? I bought the company so you had no choice but to talk to me. I am your boss now, after all.”

Excuse my French, but what the actual fuck? People don’t buy companies just to talk to someone. They call, or show up at their house, or I don’t know…send a fucking email. Not buy companies.

“No you didn’t.”

Beck shakes his head at me. The movement shakes one of his perfectly gelled locks of hair out of place. One strand rebels and hangs in front of his eyes until he finally pushes it out of the way. “I can assure you, Margo, I most certainly did.”





She looks entirely out of place in this dark, crummy office space. Margo Moretti shines too bright to be working at 8-bit Security. Her usual black hair looks dull underneath the terrible lighting of the room. Even her eyes, the light green a color I’d never seen before until I’d first met her, don’t hold the same vibrancy that I know them to have.

“Stop messing with me, Beck. That’s ridiculous.”

I shrug, wondering how a woman as beautiful as her ever fell for my brother. “You’re probably right. It is ridiculous. It doesn’t change the fact it’s what I did. I needed to talk to you.”