Chapter One
One Year Later
Violet Moore stared at the office door as if it was a monster that would lash out and bite her. At twenty-one she’d seen more crap than any human being should have to face. Her hands shook, and her entire body trembled. She’d been called to her boss’s office with no reason as to why he wanted to see her.
She worked in delivering coffee and making sure every person got their mail on time. There was nothing hard about her work, but she liked the constant flow of doing the same thing over and over again.
“Come in,” he called. At the first twist the door wouldn’t open. She shoved her shoulder against the door, and still the wooden door wouldn’t move. “I said come in.”
“I can’t. The door won’t budge.” On the last word the door swung open, and she went careening into the hard masculine chest of her boss, Cadeon Ashwood. “I’m sorry,” she muttered and pulled herself up and away from him.
Several times she’d ended up alone in his company, and he still managed to make her feel uncomfortable.
“Don’t be. I’ll get the door looked at. Sit.” He moved away and sat behind his desk once again.
Tucking her dull brown hair behind her ear, she went and sat in the chair opposite him.
After he sat down, she watched as he picked up a folder, her folder, and began reading. The silence unnerved her. She had never been alone with him inside his office before. During her interview his female personal assistant had sat in.
“You know why I called you up here today?” he asked. Violet gave him her full attention. Around the office she’d heard women swoon after the boss. He was older than she. At least in his forties she’d assumed. His hair was dark, no shades of grey. His eyes were green, and his body large and well built. She didn’t usually take notice of men, but over time she considered seeing which one was a threat and which ones weren’t. Her mother had warned her about them from a young age.
“N-no,” she said, cursing herself as her stammer returned. Whenever she was nervous she found she had difficulty over her words.
“You have no clue at all?”
She tried to think of something that could be amiss with her performance, but she was drawing a blank. “I don’t know, Mr. Ashwood. No one has ever complained about my performance, and I make sure everyone gets what they need.” Violet couldn’t lose this job. She needed the income to help pay for all the college debts she had accumulated over the years.
Her mother hadn’t thought about anyone but herself when she’d opened her veins on the day Violet had graduated.
Refusing to go down the road of bitterness she stared at her boss and prayed he didn’t want to fire her.
“This is nothing to do with your job. Actually, I hope to promote you. My personal assistant is going on maternity leave, and I want you to take her place. I’ve seen the way you work, and I want to see you taking on that role,” he said, closing shut her file.
Silence met his statement.
“Thank you. Erm, I don’t want to seem rude, but I’m not qualified in that field.”
“Miss Moore, you put yourself through college and are as qualified to handle this role as any other women I have here. Stacey will train you in the next six weeks, and you’ll take over from her,” he said.
Violet didn’t know what to do. “I just want to make coffee and hand out the mail. I can do that.”
His hand slammed on the desk, making her jump. Her fingers tightened round the handles of her chair. Any acts of violence scared her. She kept her gaze on his hands, thankful it stayed in the one place.
“I’ve told you what you’re going to be doing. Don’t argue with me.”
She nodded her head.
“Good. Now that’s settled I’ve got a few questions I want you to answer.” Cadeon picked up a pen and opened her folder.
Moving her hands away from the chair she clasped them together in her lap, hating the initial fear that came forward whenever a man was angry. Why couldn’t she be like other women and argue or march out?
Confrontation wasn’t her.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Another nod of the head. There was nothing more she could do.
“Do you have any family?”
“No,” she said.
“Is there anyone waiting for you back home? A friend, a room-mate, lover?”
“I don’t know how any of this is relevant to the position,” she said, her cheeks on fire from his comment about a lover. Having a lover would mean trusting the opposite sex. She didn’t trust the cat that lived next door with her elderly neighbour, let alone a man.
“I need these questions answered.”