Chapter 1
Victor
The noise in the suite is reaching ear piercing levels. I frown in annoyance at the chaos. My charge as head of security for Lennox Luxury Living is to ensure that my principal remains secure at all times. The easiest way to carry out this task is to put them in an empty room with no windows. Unfortunately, human beings enjoy interaction, which I do not understand, as people are trash and dealing with them for any extended amount of time is similar to rolling around in a dumpster.
Lennox is a workaholic and for the most part, minus the no-windows bit, he lives in his office—which I find acceptable and why I’ve agreed to work with him. From time to time we travel to various sites—all of which I meticulously investigate ahead of time. Those are workable situations. Not my favorite, but as long as I’m given advance notice, I’m able to prepare.
What is not workable are these...parties that involve small spaces, strangers, and drunkenness. I eye the entire crowd with suspicion, ready to take down anyone and eject them from the room forcibly.
Lennox isn’t enjoying this event either. He’s merely here for his good friend and employee. This is another reason why human interaction should be avoided. Having friends requires you to do things you don’t ordinarily want to do.
I am a loner by choice, not by accident. People do not interest me. Not men or women. They are a hassle, a distraction, and moreover, a waste of my time. I scan the room for any signs of suspicious people once again. I spot a man attempting to tear off a drunken woman’s dress.
“We have a situation at ten o’clock. Male, about five foot ten, wearing a brown silk shirt, is about to engage in a level two assault of a nonconsensual female. Please address,” I say into my headpiece.
“Roger that,” replies my man. I watch as Ted crosses to the couple and separates the two.
“What should I do with him?” Ted’s voice asks through my earpiece.
“Toss him out.” As we should with all trash.
“Incoming,” another voice says.
I turn to see Anna, Lennox’s assistant, enter. I give her a nod of acknowledgment.
“Sokolov, I’m bringing in a new employee for Mr. Lennox to check out.”
“Is the person on the list?” I flip open the clipboard. I believe in paper, old school tech, for these kinds of things.
“Of course she’s on the list. Selena Smooth. She pretty much runs this place. I’m going to get her to take my place,” Anna whispers to me.
“Good luck with that.” Mr. Lennox is a hard guy to please. He’d hired and fired about fifteen security firms before settling on mine.
“Oh, I don’t need luck,” Anna replies with a grin.
I don’t entirely know what that means. Sometimes people talk in codes that I don’t understand, but I don’t really care to be educated either. That’s unnecessary information. I only deal in necessities. And I don’t rely on luck.
“You can bring her in.”
Anna sighs. “You’re the hardest part of this job, you know. Not everyone’s a threat, Victor.”
“Everyone’s a threat. And it’s Sokolov,” I remind her. No one calls me Victor. Not even my mother.
“Right. Right. I forget because normal people call each other by their first names after knowing each other for more than a month or so, let alone years.”
I don’t reply because her complaint doesn’t require one. Or, at least, there is no reply that she would find acceptable. First names are an invited intimacy that I don’t wish to share with anyone. I would explain this to Anna but she would not understand--as evidenced by the fact that I am forced to call her Anna instead of Mueller, which is her surname.
The door opens and a woman walks through. I allow her to approach Lennox. They exchange words. Anna is between me and Lennox so I’m forced to shove her aside as Smooth raises her arm to slap Lennox. I’m about to grab Smooth and throw her to the ground when I see Lennox wave me off with a slight shake of his head.
I step back and watch as Smooth’s blow whips Lennox’s chin to right. He grins. I step back and take up my stance at the door. See, people are fucked up. Interaction with any human is highly overrated.
The door to the suite opens again, just a sliver, and I see a small face peak inside. She peers around, her eyes growing as big as saucers when she spots me. She lets out a tiny squeak and then hurriedly backs away.
“There’s a level one threat at the entrance. I’m checking out the disturbance. Have King come and cover for me.”
“Yessir,” replies my right-hand man.
I leave my spot and slip out the door. The girl is at the VIP elevators, frantically punching the down button. It takes only seconds for me to reach her. I grab her wrist and whip her around.
“Name,” I order.
“Wh-what?”
Large, lavender eyes meet mine. I stumble back, nearly falling to the floor. Those eyes. I’ve never seen anything like them in my entire life. The earth shifts under my feet and my head swims. I give myself a shake and try to regain my footing.
“Name,” I repeat, my voice taking on an odd hoarseness.
“It’s Violet.”
Violet. It’s perfect. The whirling in my head stops and I hear an audible click as the moving plates lock into place. The world settles and I see everything so clearly.
“Violet.” It tastes like candy on my tongue.
“Yes, Violet C—”
I shake my head. “I don’t need to know your last name.”