Chapter 204: Chapter 204

Violet

I stared back at the face that had starred in all my fantasies, occupied all my thoughts and left me broken.

And I hated that the first thought that popped in my head wasn’t disgust or hatred.

It was concern for a man who had toyed with me, made a fool of me and didn’t bother with any explanation at all.

His eyes were not the deep, familiar black I remembered.

There was a thin ring of red lining the edges of just one of his irises like a half moon. It was not bright or glaring, but present enough to make his left eye feel wrong.

It was faint and when he blinked it kind of disappeared.

Had I imagined it?

“I believe you can tell me more about the designs, Miss….”

He trailed off, looking at me expectantly as if I was just another stranger, as if he had never met me before, never laid eyes on me. As if he had forgotten me already.

It shouldn’t have affected me, shouldn’t have meant anything.

But something inside me twisted anyway because I knew that voice, I knew that gaze, I knew the man standing in front of me, had loved hearing my name in his voice that would always make my heart flutter. And yet he spoke as if he didn’t know me at all.

My lips parted before I could stop them, a breath catching somewhere between shock and disbelief, my mind scrambling to reconcile the man I remembered with the one standing here now.

“Violet,” I answered him.

And his gaze held mine for just a second longer than necessary, just enough to make my pulse stutter.

“Miss Violet” He repeated and just like that the butterflies in my stomach sprang up to life, rioting wildly.

I hated how hearing my name from his lips made me squirm.

For the briefest fraction of a second, the corner of his mouth shifted as though he had nudged a blade under my ribs and was pleased to see that I still bled.

“She’s new,” Mirella said, “And still learning how to present so its easy to forget her”

“I wasn’t talking to you” He said, swiftly dismissing her.

Mirella blinked, thrown off for a moment before she forced a smile back onto her face, refusing to relinquish control so easily.

“Of course, I taught her well. She will answer your ques…”

“So, can you please explain the vision and story behind this piece?” He asked me, not bothering to hear what she had to say.

I could have answered clinically but I heard myself say, “It’s about… persistence.”

His gaze did not move. “Persistence of what?”

There it was again, that subtle yet deliberate push that felt less like curiosity and more like a demand.

“Of feeling,” I replied, forcing my tone to be even. “Of… connection that doesn’t fade easily.”

“Connection,” he repeated, almost thoughtfully, as though the word itself was unfamiliar. “And what kind of connection demands that sort of endurance?”

Anyone else standing here would have heard a man simply evaluating a design or picking on a newbie like a bully.

Mirella certainly was enjoying it, her attention darting between us, eager to interject and reclaim control of a conversation she had already lost.

But I knew what he was doing.

“And what kind doesn’t?” I countered, letting a hint of irritation slip into my voice.

His expression did not change, but something sharpened in his eyes.

“That depends,” he said. “Most people mistake convenience for connection. They call something meaningful simply because it is… easy. And toss away a diamond in search of gold.”

The words slid under my skin, unwelcome and far too familiar.

“Maybe the so called diamond thinks too highly of itself” I bit out before I could stop myself.

Mirella’s eyebrows shot up as if I was speaking a different language. In a way I was.

“You know how a diamond is made, right? It’s exposed to extreme temperatures and immense pressure for billions of years. I think it has every right to be proud of itself.”

Arrogant asshole!

A faint ripple of laughter came from somewhere behind us but it felt jarring and misplaced as if the rest of the world had no right to continue while this conversation unfolded.

I forced a small breath through my nose, steadying myself.

“You’re reading too much into a piece of jewelry,” I said, refusing to give him the reaction he was clearly fishing for.

“Am I?”

I was glaring at him now.

“Yes,” I said in a clipped voice. “It’s a design concept. It’s meant to resonate but that doesn’t mean it’s… personal.”

“Nothing resonates without being personal,” he replied.

“You are right. It’s inspired by something that no longer exists” I said, hoping the message was loud and clear.

That was also one reason I let Mirella change and modify it without fighting back because I just wanted to drown in work, not give the design a piece of my soul.

His gaze did not soften. If anything, it grew more intent.

“It does exist,” he said, “just not where you’re willing to look.”

For a second, the noise of the gala seemed to evaporate into mist, leaving only the space between us.

I hated how easily he did this, how effortlessly he reached past the walls I had spent days building, and weeks reinforcing.

“It’s about restraint,” I said abruptly, not wanting to lose the fight I hadn’t started. “About knowing when to stop. Not everything needs to be… held onto.”

“Restraint,” he echoed, as though tasting the word. “And do you believe in it?”

I met his gaze head-on this time, refusing to retreat, even as something in my chest twisted in response.

“I believe in knowing when something is no longer worth it,” I said.

“And you’re certain of that?”

He asked it like a challenge rather than a question.

“I’ve already explained the concept,” I said, deciding to step back before I lost control of my growing anger.

“If there are no further questions regarding the design itself, my boss can assist you with the commercial aspects.”

Mirella stepped forward instantly, relief practically radiating off her as she seized the opening I had created.

“Yes, of course. We have very competitive pricing models, and I’d be more than happy to walk you through the catalogue.”

“I want her.”

Mirella blinked, clearly caught off guard, her expression flickering between confusion and irritation as she tried to process the statement.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, her smile wavering.

He did not spare her a glance.

Instead, he let his gaze settle back on me as if the rest of the room had ceased to matter entirely.

“What was her name again?” he asked. “Lily, right?”

A short, incredulous laugh slipped out of Mirella.

“My name is Violet.”

I was beyond irritated now, I was murderous.

For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke.

Then, slowly, very slowly, a corner of his lip lifted.

He goddamn smirked!!