CHAPTER 12
VIOLET
“What should I call him?” I whispered to Braxton.
“Grand. Call him Grand.”
“That’s his surname?”
“More of a nickname, but Mr. Grand works.”
Why did it work? Was he rich? Powerful?
Soft music played, not classical this time, more of an electro beat, intoxicating and insistent. Voices talked softly, and glasses clinked in the background. Then I heard the sharp crack of a hand on flesh followed by a moan, and I froze at Braxton’s side.
“Don’t worry, that’s not for you,” he whispered. “Keep walking, Fawn.”
I lived up to my nickname, all gangly and unsteady as I hung onto his arm. The air smelled of red wine and perfume, but most strongly of s*x. I might not have had much experience, but I’d never forget that heady aroma.
The sounds grew quieter, and I could feel the
