Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Even if I didn’t want to hear it, I couldn’t have avoided his loud yet muffled response.
“Emily.”
My heart stuttered and the world around me slowed to a halt.
Connor seemed to realize he was too close to the microphone and pulled back but only slightly and he spoke again.
“Emmy.” He blinked sluggishly and looked miserable. His voice was low and rough. “Her name is Emmy.”
I stared into the screen and watched the man I love fall from grace.
Closing my eyes, I muttered under my breath, “Goddammit, Connor.”
Why didn’t he tell me?
Because he’s an asshole.
My heart was at war with my mind until, finally, I cleared my throat and shrugged. “Whatever. It might have meant something then.” As I walked back to my room, I stated, “But it doesn’t mean shit now.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t really believe that.
And, somehow, I knew The Vixens didn’t either.
It was just another day in the life of The Violet Dame and where The Dame had been secretly reveling in the world’s attention, tonight Emmy wished she could call in sick and just stay at home in her jammies, doing nothing more than playing old records and eating ice cream. Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening. The label was hosting a soiree. It was a thing they did a couple times a year. It was such a big deal that it was written into The Vixens’ contract, an obligated appearance of sorts.
It was a ‘smile for the cameras,’ ‘show the world how happy you are,’ ‘remember, we own your souls’ kind of thing.
Left Turn would be there, of course. That being the one and only reason I wanted to bail.
While I loved seeing Noah, Lee, and Hell, so far I was able to avoid Connor at an expert level. Sometimes being in the same building and still having been able to evade him.
But then, he didn’t know The Violet Dame. He knew Emmy. And Emmy had grown since then.
Truthfully, she’d evolved into a hybrid of who she used to be and the person she was now. It was an odd place to be. I was stuck somewhere between invisible and famous, between thrift shopping and being a weapon of massive consumption, between conservative and completely bared to the world.
I didn’t know who I was anymore and that simultaneously worried and excited me.
The moment the limo pulled up to the building, Pearl looked at me and made a face. “Are you okay, Emmy? You kind of look like you’re gonna be sick.” She leaned in. “Are you gonna barf, honey?”
I shook my head and swallowed hard. I actually did feel like I was going to be ill.
Beth sat by my side, putting a reassuring hand on my arm. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve done this before. You’ll just wear your shades all night and avoid him. Easy.”
As if she’d just reminded me, I slipped on my oversized sunglasses. I felt stupid. It was almost 10:00 p.m. The only people who wore sunglasses after dark were blind people and douchebags.
Cherry sat across from me and gently nudged me with her foot. “I have no issue being your shield.” Her words were a comfort. “If he gets too close, I’ll lead him away.”
“Thanks.” I smiled warmly but the word was barely whispered.
“Want me to kick him in the balls?” Ettie asked earnestly. “Because I can do that. No problem. In fact, I want to do that.” Her eyes sparkled. “Please let me do that.”
I laughed then took a deep breath in. “It’s okay, guys. I’ll be fine. I just need a drink.”
“Or eleven,” muttered Cherry, grinning.
“Or eleven,” I agreed solemnly.
“Ready?” Beth enquired, and when I nodded, she opened the door. “Here we go.”
The second the door opened, lights started flashing. A man in a black suit held the door and offered his hand which the girls all avoided. Unfortunately, latex didn’t have as much give as you’d think and I took the proffered hand with a small smile.
When Amber told me she ordered my dress online from an adult store, I balked, but it was nice. Really nice.
The dusty rose color hugged every curve of my body. Again, underwear was not an option but it came to just below the knee, had a halter strap neck and dipped low enough to see my boobs were indeed real. We combined it with a pair of six-inch suede peep-toe pumps of the same color and I wore my thick violet hair straight and parted down the middle.
I called this exercise ‘how to make a celebrity,’ and it often required hours of preparation and discomfort but, oh, the things people did when it was expected of them.
Sometimes being The Violet Dame was exhausting.
Positively exhausting.
As soon as I got my bearings, my face became emotionless and I went into manager duty. The girls posed for photos and when precisely one minute passed, I moved them on much to the photographer’s disappointment. Once inside, loud music assaulted my ears and the song was strangely familiar. It was clear the label had gone with a nightclub feel for the evening.