My lips curve into a grin.

  I’m pretty sure my new neighbor is a woman. One who makes pancakes and can’t sleep. I like her already.

  Who knows? She might just help me forget all about Violet Cleary.

  Chapter Four

  Violet

  “I almost forgot, Ms. Cleary,” Dylan tells me after I leave my final report of the day with him so he can hand it to Asher. I’d do it myself but I’m exhausted enough—I haven’t been sleeping much lately what with all the pressure at work—and I really don’t want to see his face unless I have to. “Mr. Hawthorne wanted you to have this.”

  He hands me a rectangular box wrapped in gold paper with a red bow and a small white tag. My name is the only thing written on it.

  A present? From Asher?

  I throw my puzzled look at Dylan. “But it’s not my birthday.”

  And even if it was, there’s no way I’d expect—or accept—a gift from Asher.

  “He said it’s a welcome present,” Dylan explains. “A bit late, he said, but he hopes you’ll appreciate it just the same.”

  A welcome present? After all he’s been doing to make me feel unwelcome? After that declaration of war he just issued last week? It can’t be.

  “You said it’s from Mr. Hawthorne?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Asher Hawthorne?”

  Because it could very well be one of the other Hawthorne brothers running this company. That would make more sense. They both seem nicer than Asher. And more reasonable.

  “Yes,” Dylan answers. “He even bought it himself.”

  I can understand the surprise I hear in Dylan’s tone. Usually, when you’re busy enough to warrant an assistant, you let him do your shopping. I’m sure Dylan buys lots of stuff for Asher. That makes this even more suspicious.

  Asher is giving me a welcome present? And one that he bought himself, at that? Why? What is he up to?

  I can only think of two things. One, this is some kind of prank. True, Asher is a bit too old for pranks—What is he? Thirty at least?—but he acts like a six-year-old, so yeah, I wouldn’t put pranks past him.

  I press down the edges of the box and give it a shake. It doesn’t make much of a sound. Whatever’s inside is hard. Compact. That rules out a shirt with weird prints, handfuls of glitter or plastic bugs. Or even live bugs. What is this? One of those glass paperweights with something that looks like animal poop inside? A tumbler with creepy faces? Some cursed antique?

  The second possibility is that this is a genuine welcome present. An invitation to start over as coworkers. An olive branch. Maybe Asher has finally come to his senses or maybe he’s just grown tired of all our arguments. I know I have, which is why I wouldn’t mind a truce. It’s about time we set our personal feelings and opinions aside and work side by side for the good of the department and the company.

  I really hope that’s what it is.

  “Thanks,” I tell Dylan before bringing the box to my office.

  Once I’m behind my desk, I turn my chair around so that I’m facing the wall before starting to unwrap Asher’s present. Most of the people on the floor have gone home, but I still want to make sure no one pries or gets the wrong idea about what I’m doing. There are enough nasty rumors about me going around already, thanks to Asher. I should at least ask him to do something about that if he’s serious about wanting to work together.

  Finally, all of the wrapping comes off. My pulse races as I stare at the box for a moment.

  What can it be?

  I draw a deep breath before opening the box. I see what’s inside—a rod as pink as a flamingo’s feathers, about nine inches long and over an inch in diameter, with a small protrusion on the front shaped like a bunny. I recognize what it is a few seconds later, so I quickly close the box and glance over both my shoulders to make sure no one saw what I just did. There’s no one there. Still, my cheeks feel like they’re on fire, like they’re about to launch off my face. My temper starts to rise as well.

  That Asher! That fucking jerk!

  I should have known he’d never extend a truce. I should have known that an unreasonable man can’t come to his senses, that he can’t have a change of heart when he doesn’t have a heart in the first place. Damn it. Why did I dare hope? Each time I even consider the notion that he might be human, Asher just tramples all over me and rips me apart. And he’s fucking done it again.

  Well, I won’t let him get away with it this time.

  Huffing and puffing, I stomp to Asher’s office. Dylan is already gone, his desk cleared. Good. I can yell at Asher all I want, and I fully intend to.

  I push the door to his office open and find him behind his desk. His gaze shifts from the screen of his laptop to me. Before he can say anything, I hurl his ‘present’ at his head as I unleash the words inside mine.

  “Du hast den Arsch offen!”

  Asher catches the box with one hand and looks at it.

  “Oh, I see you got my present.” Then he meets my gaze with furrowed eyebrows. “But it seems you don’t like it. What’s wrong? Is it the color? Is it the size? Would you have wanted it longer? Thicker? Or maybe—”

  “What the hell, Asher?” I express my dismay in English as I approach his desk. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Oh, you don’t know what this is?” He opens the box. “I guess they don’t have these in Switzerland.”

  To my shame, he holds the device up.

  “This is a vibrator. A rabbit vibrator, specifically. It’s a sex toy that—”

  I grab it out of his hand. “For fuck’s sake, will you shut up? I know what this is.”

  “But you asked—”

  “I’m asking what you’re playing at. Is this another attempt to get me to resign? Quite childish, don’t you think? Not to mention desperate.”

  “It’s just a present,” Asher says calmly. “It was Ryker’s idea, actually.”

  My eyebrows go up. “What?”

  “The gesture, not the toy. That’s all me. I even picked it myself.”

  My hands clench into fists. Here I am feeling horribly insulted, utterly humiliated, my temper bursting at the seams, and he thinks all this is a joke, one he’s thoroughly enjoying and feeling extremely proud of. Am I a joke to him? Are decency and honor a joke to him?

  “You think all this is amusing, don’t you?” I hold up the vibrator. “You think this is funny?”

  “No.” He clasps his hands on top of his desk. “I think it’s well made. It’s a work of art, really.”

  I grit my teeth. “You…”

  Just then, I hear a knock on the door. I turn my head. Before Asher can say anything, the door opens and Dylan comes in.

  “I’m sorry. I just forgot to…”

  He stops as he stares at my hand—my right hand, which still happens to be clutching Asher’s gift.

  Shit.

  I quickly tuck it behind me. But I know I’m too late. Dylan has already seen what I’m holding, and I can tell he knows what he saw. His eyes are wide with disbelief. His cheeks have a tinge of pink.

  My head droops from the weight of my embarrassment. I stare at the tips of my red shoes as my toes wiggle inside them, wishing I could just click my heels together and get whisked away to a different place right now.

  “Is everything alright?” Dylan asks.

  “Oh, we’re fine,” Asher answers. “Ms. Cleary and I were just having a little argument about the size of our quarterly profits. She thinks they’re a bit lacking.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. What on earth is he talking about?

  “Anyway, what did you want?” he asks Dylan in a more serious tone.

  Dylan clears his throat. “I just forgot to ask if there was anything else you needed before I left…?”

  “There’s nothing. You can go.”

  “Okay.”

  Dylan leaves. As soon as the door closes, I grab the box on top of Asher’s desk and stuff the vibrator back inside.

  “I am so reporting you to Human Resources,” I tell Asher.

  And I mean it this time.

  He leans back in his chair. “For what?”

  I lift the box in my hand. “Sexual harassment. I’m sure that Gina will help me out. After all, you did say she’s a sweet old lady.”

  “I never said she was old.”

  I ignore that. “I can just imagine the look on her face when she sees this.”

  Asher grins. “So can I.”

  “Think she’ll be shocked to find out one of her bosses is a pervert? Then again, she probably already knows. Maybe she’s been waiting for someone brave enough to come forward and file a report.”

  The grin remains on Asher’s face as he taps his fingers on his desk. What? Does he think I won’t do it? That just makes me even more determined.

  I tuck the box under my arm and hold my shoulders back.

  “Sending a welcome present isn’t sexual harassment,” Asher tells me.

  “It is when the present is… a sex toy.”

  Asher shrugs. “Is it wrong for a boss to want his employees to… loosen up a little?”

  “Very funny.”

  “See.” He points a finger at me. “That’s your problem, Ms. Cleary. You’re too serious.”

  I point a finger at myself. “I’m too serious? Aren’t you the one whose forehead looks like it’s about to burst whenever I’m around?”

  He touches his forehead. I let out a sigh.

  “Whatever.”

  I turn towards the door.

  “I’m trying to be nice now,” Asher says. “That’s why I gave you a present.”

  I turn back towards him and lift the box. “Oh, so this is your way of being nice?”

  “I could have given you a jar of spiders. Or a dead rat.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re sick.”

  “Instead, I gave you something you can use, something to help you relax so you can do better at work. Did you know that there are studies saying regular sex can increase one’s productivity in the workplace among other benefits?”

  I don’t care.

  “Of course, not all of us can have the luxury of regular sex. Hence the sex toy. And like I said, I’ve given you one of excellent quality. Raves all around. Completely safe. Easy to use. Easy to clean.”

  Disgusting.

  Asher touches his chin. “Though looking back now, maybe I should have asked for it in purple. Your name’s Violet, after all.”

  Enough of this nonsense.

  “Forget this. I’m going and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.”

  I start walking towards the door.

  “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

  I hear Asher get out of his chair. By the time I glance over my shoulder, he’s already almost behind me.

  “I can go by myself.”

  “I’m filing a report, too,” he says. “Against you, actually. Physical abuse.”

  My eyebrows go up. “What?”

  “I believe you threw that box at me when you first stormed into my office.” He points at it.

  I gape. “You caught it.”

  “So you admit you threw it at me?” He takes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve been recording our conversation, by the way.”

  “Good. Then HR will know just what a jerk you’ve been.”

  “Are you sure I’ve done anything bad or said anything mean to you since you barged into my office? Weren’t you the one cursing? What was that you said to me? That I’m full of shit?”

  Fuck. I should have known he can understand German.

  “That’s because you provoked me.”

  “So you admit you lost your temper and lashed out at your boss?”

  “Only because you gave me this… this horrid thing.”

  I suddenly feel like dropping it on the floor and smashing it to pieces.

  “It’s called a present, Ms. Cleary.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You know that’s not what it is.”

  “I’m telling you that’s what it is.” He stands in front of me and looks straight into my eyes. “Or do you want it to be something else, Ms. Cleary?”

  The drop in Asher’s voice, though just an octave, sends a shiver down my spine. The hint of desire in his ebony eyes makes my breath catch. And I can’t seem to take another as I become suddenly aware that his body is just inches from mine.

  Too close. I step away and steel my composure.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Hawthorne.”

  “I think you do, Ms. Cleary.” His eyes continue to bore down on me. “I think you’re insisting on seeing my harmless present as a threat, as a sign that I want to do things to you, an offer to have sex, maybe because that’s what you want it to be.”

  “What?”

  Asher leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Do you want to have sex with me, Violet?”

  My heart stops. He follows up that question with a gaze pained with longing, and a lump forms in my throat. I swallow.

  “Why would I want to have sex with you?”

  “Because you didn’t get to five years ago.”

  I snort. “I pushed you away, remember?”

  “And yet, you were hurt when I left.”

  “I was hurt because you just vanished without saying anything. Because you kept me waiting. Because you left me behind. Because I felt like a fool coming to a party in my date’s fancy car and going home in an Uber.”

  “I thought you said I wasn’t your date.”

  I roll my eyes. That’s what he picked up from everything I just said?

  “So you were waiting for me to come back and pick up where we left off?”

  “No.”

  “Or did you want me to bring you home and then have sex in your room where no one else could see us?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on. You wanted to have sex with me that night. You only pushed me away because you were scared.”

  I open my mouth to answer but no words come out. My mind takes me back to the gazebo on that chilly night.

  “You wanted to have sex with me then and you still want to have sex with me now, don’t you, Violet?”

  The sound of my name from his lips sends another shiver down my spine. The intensity of his gaze lights a fire in my chest that sends heat through my veins so that it spreads throughout my body. The front of my panties starts to burn. My palms tingle. I can’t breathe.

  Why? Why does Asher still have this effect on me?

  He places a finger between his throat and the knot of his tie. He gives it a tug and it loosens.

  “Tell me what you want, Violet.”

  I can’t take my eyes off his tie. I suddenly have the urge to grab it and pull Asher close to me so that our lips can collide. I want to take it off along with every piece of clothing he’s wearing so I can marvel at his naked body, so I can feel it against mine, on top of mine, just like I’ve imagined several times before.

  Yes. As much as I hate to admit it, I have imagined having sex with Asher before, especially on those cold nights in Zurich when all I had were a bottle of wine and a platter of cheese to keep me company. In spite of all the hurt, I keep going back to that night of Finley’s party, to that gazebo, wondering what might have happened if Asher and I did have sex.

  I did want it. I still do. But I’m not about to tell him that, especially after everything that’s happened these past few days.

  That night at that gazebo, I put my thoughts over my feelings. I can do it again.

  “I didn’t want to have sex with you back then, Asher Hawthorne,” I tell him. “That’s why I pushed you away. And it’s the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.”

  “The best decision or the biggest regret?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Isn’t that why you got rid of your contacts? Because you want me to think of you the way I did that night? Because you want to redo it?”

  “What?”

  Is that what he thinks?

  “I started wearing contacts after that night because I didn’t want anybody else taking a fancy to me just because I have a rare eye and hair color combination. I didn’t want to deal with any other jerks. And the reason why I’m not doing that anymore? Because you’re a jerk I’ve already dealt with. Also, because I want you to remember what you did to me.”

  “So that I can regret it? I already do.”

  Does he?

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  For a moment, he just looks at me. The lust in his eyes is gone now. But I still see the pain. Is that remorse?

  Asher draws a deep breath. “Fine. I won’t criticize you in front of others from now on, and I won’t steal your ideas.”

  “And?”

  “I’ll hear you out whenever you have something to say.”

  Good. “And you won’t ask me to get your coffee, make copies for you, or do any of the other things that Dylan is supposed to be doing?”

  “Fine.”

  I grin. I came to this fight feeling already beaten and about to throw in the towel, and now here I am, winning. It’s a good feeling.

  I shove the box I’m still holding into Asher’s chest. “Then we have nothing more to talk about, Mr. Hawthorne.”

  I proceed to the door and leave his office with my head held high and the corners of my mouth turned up.

  Yup. I’m the one grinning now.

  ~

  I’m still grinning when I get to The Mistral. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe easily as I walk across the lobby. I don’t have to worry about getting bullied at work anymore. Asher might even finally leave me alone. I can do my job in peace and enjoy being in a new city. I may never even have to make pancakes at 2 A.M. because I’ll be able to sleep well at night.

  I’m free. Well, not of Asher, because he’s still my boss. And let’s face it. He’s a Hawthorne. I may never be able to get his job. But at least I’m free from the past I shared with him. As long as he doesn’t hold it against me, I won’t hold it against him. It’s a fresh start.

  We can go on as boss and employee, never interfering with each other’s personal lives. Then who knows? Eventually, I may be able to forget about him completely.