One for Me

Chapter Eleven

Lincoln was right, work didn't change between them. In fact, it was hard not to smile every time she saw him the week following their first date.

On the ride home, they'd discussed taking things slowly, starting out as friends. She didn't want to dive in too fast and he didn't want to catch feelings quickly due to their working situation. They even limited their after-hours work nights to maximum three times weekly. Violet had to remind Lincoln, no special treatment. That meant not selecting her for certain accounts and cases, even if he had to begrudgingly tell Brenda to assign them elsewhere. Other people had credentials equally up to par, though their work sometimes didn't reflect it, they deserved chances too.

"Do you have those files on the Donahue account?" Karen knocked on Violet's door. It was a Tuesday afternoon and she had just finished typing a response to Eboney's IM.

"Yes," Violet turned in her seat to the long side of her desk where she kept her files organized by order of urgency. Violet handed the folder over to Karen. It was right on top, pending their later meeting.

"Don't forget about the Donahue meeting at three." Karen reminded as she took the file to make copies. "I'll bring this back before then."

"No problem." Violet went back to typing on her computer. Today would be her first meeting with the department, along with Lincoln and Grant since their first date.

While she was nervous, Violet was equally excited to see Lincoln since she hadn't seen or spoken to him all day. He and Grant had been in and out of mundane meetings, and this one would be no different.

She was growing antsy, checking the time every thirty seconds because it just wasn't moving fast enough for her. At two thirty-nine, she had given up focusing on her spreadsheet and started saving her work. Though she didn't want to swap out her comfortable office slippers for her heels, she knew she couldn't show up to a meeting with them on. That would just give Grant all the more reason to be spiteful.

When she walked into the meeting room, Grant was already there. He was the picture of introspection, standing at one of the long windows, looking out at the city thoughtfully.

Probably looking to see whose life work he can dismantle and sell off next. Violet thought to herself and rolled her eyes. Violet walked further into the meeting room noiselessly but he noticed her presence anyway.

Grant turned to look at her but didn't speak. She watched him, watching her. It wasn't quite a look of disgust but obvious displeasure as he looked her over. And it was also obvious he didn't care that she was seeing him see her.

Violet tugged at the hem of her shirt in nervousness and clutched her folder to her abdomen, causing his eyes to fall where her shirt met the top of her skirt. His eyes moved over the black belt at her waist and along her navy green skirt. They stopped at her heeled feet. Violet saw his eye twitch, and then, in a grunt, he turned around and went back to the window.

What was that about? Violet rolled her eyes and plopped into her seat, wondering what problem he could possibly have with Steve Madden. "Good afternoon to you, too, Mr. Bass." Violet clicked the end of her pen continuously, releasing the ball point and retracting it over and over again.

"Are you a child?" He turned, glaring at the pen in her hand. Violet placed it on top of her folder and settled her hands under the table on her lap, allowing her knee to bounce restlessly.

When Lincoln walked into the room, her sigh of relief was noticeable. If her cheeks could, they would've reddened when he looked at her. "Good afternoon, Miss. Williams." Lincoln greeted

"At least one of you came with your manners." Violet mumbled. "Good afternoon, Mr. Bass." She said louder to Lincoln but the edge in her voice was directed to Grant. She watched as Lincoln sat across from her with his always handy red coffee mug. Lincoln was the picture of CEO and she found his clean cut look very appealing. Today he was wearing a blueish gray suit that she'd guessed had been tailored to fit him as perfectly as it did. The tie he was wearing kept changing colors in the light, going from matte blue to an iridescent sheen and it was clipped to his shirt with a gold bar pinch. Today his short hair was gelled away from his face and he had on his wire framed glasses looked like something out of the seventies. He looked like something out of a GQ magazine and Violet had to catch herself staring.