Made in Manhattan

“Come with me, Mr. Stone,” Zeke said, beckoning Cain forward. “Violet, sweetheart, make yourself comfortable over there with the magazines.”

Violet did as instructed, but though she opened the latest issue of Vogue, she couldn’t focus. She didn’t want to read about fascinators having a moment on the runway. She wanted a damn manual on Cain Stone, and his mercurial moods, and…

Her muddled thoughts vanished when the dressing room curtain was jerked open and Cain stepped into view.

Violet stared and mentally uttered a phrase right out of his playbook. Holy shit.

Cain in jeans and a T-shirt had a sort of raw magnetism. In a suit, he’d been all sexy professional. Cain in a tux, though, amplified that by a hundred. Not because he looked like Keith or any of the other businessmen in Violet’s acquaintance, but because he didn’t.

There was a large, floor-length mirror along one side of the shop, but Cain didn’t so much as glance at it. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Violet, his dark eyes glowering. He lifted a shoulder, irritated. Well? Happy now?

Violet swallowed. “You look… nice.”

Zeke laughed and put a hand over his heart. “Nice? Just stab me; it would hurt less.”

“Better than nice,” she amended as she stood. “Men’s fashion isn’t really my expertise, but even I can see…” She walked toward Cain, then motioned for him to spin, mostly to annoy him.

He stayed perfectly still, mostly to annoy her.

“Do I pass muster?” he snapped when she came full circle back in front of him.

She stepped up to him, needlessly adjusting the lapel. “You’ll do.”

It was hard to remember that the tailor who had sewn the dozens of suits in Keith’s closet had also sewn this one. She’d seen Keith in a tux that looked just like this one, but he didn’t wear it this way.

Cain’s shoulders seemed extra broad, his waist extra narrow, his legs extra long. He looked like a perfect Wall Street specimen, except…

“Where’s your hair band?” she asked.

He lifted his hand, raked his fingers through his long hair. “Must have come out while I was changing.”

Violet could have gone to look for it. Or gotten one of the bands she knew she had somewhere in her purse. But she didn’t.

With his black hair falling over the collar of his shirt, his short beard dark against the crisp white, he looked… good.

It was also exactly the opening she needed.

Violet glanced at the tailor. “Zeke, can we have a minute?”

He nodded. “I’ll be in the back. Holler if you need me.”

Violet waited until he was gone, then faced Cain. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He fussed with the bow tie irritably. “What?”

She took a deep breath. “That lunch on Monday with Keith, it wasn’t personal, and it wasn’t just the two of us. Edith was there. Dan and Jocelyn as well.”

“And?”

He was becoming more impatient by the moment, so Violet spit it out bluntly.

“The board wants me to talk you into cutting your hair.”

Violet expected his anger, but the flash of hurt on his face caught her right in the throat. He shut it down quickly, resuming a mask of surly indifference. “Well, at least now I know what the other night was about.”

“I don’t follow,” she said, genuinely confused.

“At my place. The whole flirty, watch Netflix and eat pasta routine—what was that, buttering me up for the final stage of my transformation into Boy Barbie? Sorry, babe, but you’re going to have to put out a hell of a lot more than a movie night.” He gave her a deliberately insulting once-over.

It was Violet’s turn to be angry. And hurt. “First of all, that night was your idea,” she said, gratified when his jaw tensed in silent acquiescence to the point. “Second of all, I never said I thought you should cut your hair. I just said they do.”

He snorted. “Please. You’ve practically been panting to turn me into a mannequin.”

“I was,” Violet admitted. “At the start. Not anymore.”

“Ah,” he said coldly. “So then you’ve finally decided. It’s the bad boy that gets your juices flowing.”

Violet studied him for a long moment, waited for her temper to get under control, then nodded slowly. “Okay, Cain. Okay. Here’s what I told them.” She stepped closer, enjoying the way his gaze went wary. “I told them that I’d pass along their message. Then I told them to go screw themselves.”

His face betrayed nothing.

Violet stepped even closer. “And you know what? You were dead-on about me. I do change my behavior based on who I am with. I have spent too much of my life trying to be what other people want me to be. But you know, Cain? I’d rather try and fail than live like you.”

His eyes narrowed, daring her to continue, and she did.

“You’re the oldest cliché in the book: you reject everyone before they can reject you.” She gave him a sad look. “Congratulations. It’s working like a charm.”