Dominating Vyolet: A Dad's Best Friend Romance (The Viera Triplets Book 1) Page 2

  “Who?” I asked, my mind still consumed with the daunting task of organizing the taxes before Harry came looking for them later.

  Every quarter the accountant and I played the same game. Harry would ask me to have the receipts properly filed and ready for his perusal and I inevitably forgot until the last moment.

  This quarter was no different and I knew he would appear in my office anytime to stare at me reprovingly while I shrugged and smiled sheepishly, floundering to get the job done under his watchful eye.

  I rather enjoyed our routine but I got the sense that Harry was losing interest in our dance which is why the COO and CEO had posted an internal memo ordering everyone to get their papers together by the end of business that day.

  Harry was not known for his easy-going demeanor or sense of humor.

  “Sandra Rimes,” Kathleen repeated.

  “I have no idea who that is, Kathy. Take a message and I’ll call her back in a couple hours,” I replied exasperated, ending the conversation between us. I had already made it very clear that I did not wish to be interrupted that morning.

  In one ear and out the other with that woman, I thought with annoyance.

  I couldn’t afford any distractions under the best of circumstances. When I was on a deadline, diversions were costly.

  My hand hovered over the mouse as I scanned the computer, trying to recall what files I had allotted for what.

  I need a personal assistant, I thought, shaking my head at the mess I had made.

  Sometimes I marveled at the capacity I had to be such an excellent programmer when I had absolutely no sense of structure.

  I assumed that I merely had selective left and right brain tendencies. Depending on my needs, either side would rear its head and get me through whichever pinch in I would find myself.

  “You’re a quintessential Gemini,” Jocelyn always said and I, in turn, would roll my eyes and laugh.

  “My left brain doesn’t believe in astrology,” I would quip in return and we would laugh as if I hadn’t made the same stupid joke a hundred times before.

  My cell phone rang and I was tempted to ignore it but my eyes automatically flittered to the iPhone 7 screen.

  I half expected it to be Jocelyn since she had abruptly popped into my mind for no reason but the screen did not identify my sister as the caller.

  I scowled when I saw it was a private number.

  In this day and age, who answers private calls?

  I dismissed the call and tried to focus on the task at hand but Kathy buzzed again.

  “Mr. Collier, Sandra Rimes insists that she speaks with you. She’s calling from the Department of Child Services in Minnesott Beach.”

  Suddenly I found it very difficult to breathe.

  “What?” I asked dumbly even though I had heard her with perfect clarity. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Collier but I suggest you take the call.”

  Under normal circumstances, I would have told Kathleen what she could do with her helpful suggestions but it was not a time to combat the receptionist.

  On the table, my cell began to vibrate again.

  I registered that it was a private caller as I snatched up the receiver of the landline and punched in line four.

  Inexplicably, beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my mouth turned dry.

  “Evan Collier,” I said, my voice not betraying a note of the uneasiness seizing my gut.

  “Mr. Collier, this is Sandra Rimes from the Department of Child and Family Services in Minnesott Beach,” the woman started crisply, her tone as even as mine. “Have the police been in contact with you?”

  I gulped, trying to smooth the rasp from the throat.

  “Why would the police be in contact?” I asked by my voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

  There was a slight pause and I watched as my cell began to ring again.

  Dread embraced me.

  “Can you hold a moment, Ms. Rimes?” I breathed, snatching up the iPhone before she could respond.

  “Evan Collier.”

  “Mr. Collier, this is Detective Aaron Chisholm of the Minnesott Beach Police Department. I am afraid I have some terrible news. It’s about your sister.”

  I could see black and red spots dancing before my eyes as I envisioned my sister the last time I had seen her, dark hair in a boyish cut, twinkling brown eyes and laughing at some ridiculous Disney movie I had chosen for Alexa.

  “She’s only six, Evan! The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a little mature for her, don’t you think?” Jocelyn chuckled.

  “Oh, I don’t know. She likes it just fine, don’t you Alex?” I replied, eyeing my niece affectionately.

  “I like the goat!” Alexa agreed and Jocelyn only laughed harder.

  “I am holding you personally responsible for all her therapy bills when she’s older,” my sister informed me and I shrugged.

  “That’s what uncles are for,” I joked.

  How was I supposed to know that Disney made movies that dark? What did I know about raising kids?

  “Mr. Collier, are you there, sir?” the detective asked in my ear. I forced myself back to the present and took a deep breath.

  “Yes. What happened?”

  “There has been a car accident, sir. Your sister Jocelyn and brother-in-law Charlie were hit by a drunk driver. They died at the scene.”

  My head began to spin even though I had been expecting the words.

  “Where is Alex?” I gasped, leaning back against the high back leather chair.

  Suddenly I remembered Sandra Rimes on the office line.

  “Your niece was not with them. She is being held at the Department of Family Services. We understand that you are the next of kin and we will need you to come to North Carolina to identify the bodies and take custody of Alexandra.”

  “Alexa,” I intoned flatly. “I will be out on the next flight.”

  I ended the call, a strange feeling of numb overtaking my body as I sat staring at the blinking light on line four.

  My little sister was dead. Charlie was dead. Alex was alone.

  “Mr. Collier, Sandra Rimes is still waiting.”

  I didn’t respond. How could I when I had no words to speak?

  “Mr. Collier?”

  Kathleen was beginning to sound irritated.

  “I heard you!” I roared and I heard her gasp at my tone.

  I snatched up the receiver again and punched the blinking line.

  “I just heard,” I told the waiting social worker. “What do you need me to do?”

  “When you get here, we will explain everything to you. When can you come?” Sandra Rimes asked gently.

  “I am leaving Seattle tonight,” I said. “Is Alexa with you?”

  I did not feel myself speaking but I heard the words through the receiver and I knew I was saying them as if someone else had taken over my body.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Collier. Unfortunately, she is not with me but she is safe at the police station. If you are unable to come for her tonight, she will be placed in a foster home overnight.”

  “No!” I barked with much more intensity than I had intended. “I will be there tonight. Tell her I am coming.”

  I slammed the phone onto the cradle and leaped from my chair, grabbing my keys and wallet from the top drawer of my desk before flying into the main part of the office.

  Weaving through the cubicles, I could not shake the sensation that I was not really there, especially when people I saw people talking to me but their words made no sense to my ears.

  It was as if I had fallen into another dimension, a parallel universe where my body existed but my mind was far away.

  That’s because this is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any minute and laugh shakily. Jocelyn will be alive and Alex will still have her parents.

  Someone grabbed my arm and I turned to stare at my boss blankly.

  “Are you deaf? I’ve been calling your name for two whole mi
nutes!” Andy barked. I didn’t reply, continuing to stare through him as if he wasn’t there.

  “Where the hell are you going? It’s tax time, Evan. You can’t leave until Harry gets all the paperwork he needs.”

  I gaped at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

  “Unless you’re going for coffee. In which case you can get me a venti cap with soy milk,” he continued. “Oh, and a scone.”

  I stared at him for a long moment, a floodgate of bitterness sweeping through me as I thought of the countless hours I had spent working for the cocky CEO.

  How many times did I stay in Seattle to finish a project when Jocelyn had asked me to come home for Thanksgiving? How many birthdays did I miss? How many times did I promise Alex I would go and got stuck with a mountain of work?

  It was too late to make it up to Jocelyn and Charlie. There would be no more family dinners where we would remember mom and dad dancing in the kitchen at the house on Seafarer Road. There would be no more trips to the cottage at Nags Head where Jocelyn and I had spent our summers in childhood.

  Suddenly, I began to laugh and Andy stepped back, a half-smile on his face as if he was missing the joke.

  “What’s so funny?” Andy asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  To my horror, I couldn’t stop laughing and peals of hysteria escaped me as I looked at his smug face.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as Andy grew uncomfortable, glancing around at our co-workers as if seeking assistance.

  Everyone appeared as ill-at-ease as he looked but it only fueled my temporary psychosis.

  “Okay, Evan,” Andy called after a full minute of my hiccuping laughter. “I don’t get the joke.”

  As quickly as it had come on, the fit of giggles ceased and my mouth fell into a firm line, my jaw tensing as I ground my teeth together so tightly, I was sure they would crack.

  I stuffed down the insurmountable desire to clock Andy in the jaw, knowing that my emotions were reigning my mental state in that moment.

  But I did not stop myself from saying what was on my mind and had been for many years.

  “The joke is you can take this job and stick it,” I muttered, spinning to leave him staring at me open-mouthed. “I’m going home.”

  2

  Vyolet

  I knew my sisters felt differently but I enjoyed Sunday dinner at our parents’ house.

  While the meals were a tradition, it was far and few between that all of us would find ourselves together at one table, Maya citing some spiritual retreat or Yvette being weighed down on some taxing case which seeped into her weekend.

  I always made the time to drive out to Minnesott Beach, no matter the weather.

  A small part of me worried about my parents.

  I had reached a place where I knew they were not going to be around forever and I wanted to spend as much time with them while I had the chance.

  Of course, I would never say such a thing aloud; I may have accepted my own mortality but I don’t think they were quite there yet.

  They were still young, after all, virile, active and working in their respective fields.

  My mother was a supply teacher for the school board and my father was consultant for a pharmaceutical company based out of Durham.

  My mother did not carry a single grey hair on her auburn head and the only time I caught the slightest hint of a wrinkle on her kind face was when she grinned her impish smile and the corners of her emerald eyes lit up.

  I was the spitting image of my father but he had a much more distinguished air.

  His fine blonde hair was salted with white and his blue eyes blazed cerulean and against fair skin.

  I had also inherited my height from him as he towered above the rest of us at an imposing six feet six inches.

  Thankfully, I was not quite as looming but I had finally capped my height at five eleven in my sophomore year of high school.

  I pulled my white Mazda 6 up to the ranch-style home and stifled a sigh as I noted my sisters’ vehicles were not there.

  It looked like I was going to be the only daughter present again.

  As I exited the car, I glanced about the immaculately kept front lawn and peered down the road hopefully.

  I had texted Maya earlier and she vowed to show but my just-younger sister often forgot things, especially if something more appealing was to come along and distract her.

  Something like a man in a pair of tight denim pants and a tank top, I thought.

  Sometimes I felt like I was seven years older than Maya, not seven minutes.

  I often wondered how she did it both physically and psychologically.

  The tales my sister would regale me with often made me blush for days afterward.

  I could never understand how three women who had shared the same space in the same womb had so little in common.

  Yvette was no different with her strict career focus, without time for anything else but the downfall of other people’s marriages.

  How are we even related, let alone triplets? I wondered.

  I imagine they pondered the same about me.

  “Vyolet!”

  I turned to greet my mother, my smile fading as I examined the expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my pulse quickening. “Is it dad?”

  Mom shook her head as she rushed in to hug me.

  “No no, your father is fine,” she said quickly. “It’s Uncle Evan.”

  I stared at her for a long minute, trying to reconcile who she meant.

  “Uncle Evan?” I echoed. We had no such relative that I could remember.

  “Dad’s friend from Northwestern?” my mom reminded me, and I instantly recalled the tall man in my mind.

  “Oh!” I gasped. “Evan Collier?”

  Mom nodded, linking her arm to mine.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “His sister passed away yesterday in a terrible car accident with her husband.”

  “Oh,” I breathed. “That’s terrible! Don’t they have a little girl?”

  “She was not in the car, thank God,” mom replied, her eyes clouding over with tears. “But the poor child is an orphan now.”

  Evan had been around for much of our childhood. He was our dad’s best friend from college he had always been pleasant to us.

  The memories were fleeting though, as he had packed up and moved to Washington state for some extremely well-paying job as a computer analyst or programmer – something technical.

  I hadn’t seen him in probably twelve years.

  As we entered the house, I saw dad sitting on the sofa in the living room, his ear pressed to the cordless phone.

  He was deep in quiet conversation and glanced up to offer me a half smile but there was no joy in his expression as he continued his conversation.

  “Has he come back for the funeral?” I whispered to mom, following her to the kitchen.

  The walls were littered with school photos of us from Kindergarten to college, our most awkward stages on display for all the world to see.

  “Yes,” mom replied. “But he has also had guardianship of his young niece now.”

  I slipped onto a stool at the island, reaching over the chopping board for a stray carrot.

  “Oh wow,” I murmured, sympathy for the man jolting through me. “Does he have any kids of his own?”

  Mom shook her head, retrieving her kitchen knife and continuing to prepare the veggies.

  “No,” she sighed. “He never did marry.”

  “I wonder why not. He was good looking for an older guy,” I commented, crunching on the carrot.

  Mom scowled slightly, her brow creasing in mock anger.

  “For ‘an older guy’?” she echoed. “He’s the same age as your father!”

  “And dad looks good too!” I protested, embarrassment tinging my cheeks pink.

  Dad joined us in the kitchen, his face grave.

  “Hi sweetheart,” he said, giving me a peck on the cheek before turning to his attenti
on fully to mom. “I told Evan to come over tonight, Amelia.”

  “Of course he should!” mom cried. “Has he picked up Alex already?”

  Dad nodded.

  “Yes,” he replied. “She’s coming also.”

  I bit on my lower lip, unsure of what to say.

  “Sorry, daddy,” I finally managed. “That is terrible news.”

  “Charlie and Jocelyn were such good people,” dad said sadly, hugging me close to him. “Jocelyn made it a point to drop off Christmas cookies every year. Why do the good always die young?”

  Again, I had no answer for him, but I was again forced with the thought of how fleeting life could be.

  “How is Alex holding up?” mom asked, brushing aside a stray wisp of auburn hair from her forehead.

  “I don’t think she knows what is happening. I mean, how do you explain to a child that young that she’ll never see her parents again?” dad sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t even imagine what the poor child is going through.”

  “Wow, who died?” Maya chirped, whirling into the kitchen, a devious grin upon her tanned face. “You all look like you’re at a wake in here.”

  I shook my head wildly, waving my hands to stop her but the damage was already done.

  “Jocelyn and Charlie Sumac,” dad retorted, a slight anger in his tone.

  Instantly, Maya looked contrite.

  “Oh shit, sorry, daddy. I didn’t think someone actually died or else I wouldn’t have said that. Obviously.”

  She grinned disarmingly but I could see that daddy didn’t appreciate her half apology.

  Maya slipped onto the stool beside me and whispered in my ear.

  “Who the hell are Joyce and Chuckie Smack?” she asked.

  “I’ll fill you in later,” I murmured back, my attention on my parents.

  “Girls, help finish setting the table,” mom instructed. “Yvette isn’t coming tonight.”

  I could hear the disappointment in her tone but it was really no surprise to any of us.

  It was always a surprise when Yvette did manage to show for Sunday dinner.

  “Come on,” I urged Maya and we wandered into the dining room to lay out the silverware.

  “What was that about?” Maya chirped when she thought we were out of hearing range.