Benjamin Kempball: The Way To A Banker’s Heart

Chapter 5: Benjamin

She was a mother.

The most amazing woman I had ever met was already a mother. She had a child—a little girl named Rose. And from what I could gather, she had problems with the father of her kid and another man vying for her attention. Everything about Violet should have been a red flag. Every logical part of my brain screamed that I should be running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. But, for some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I just didn’t care.

Rose. A perfect name for a little girl. The thought of it brought a small, involuntary tug to the corner of my mouth. Rose and Violet. They sounded like the kind of duo who could take on the world, and for a brief, fleeting moment, another name floated into my thoughts: Benjamin. Rose, Violet, and Benjamin. The idea should have startled me, should have had me shaking my head at my own foolishness. She wasn’t ready for that—she hadn’t even agreed to go out with me yet. Still, the thought lingered longer than it should have.

Violet had done something to me, something I couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe it was her dry humor—hinting that I might be a serial killer and then, without missing a beat, offering to help me become an even better one. Or maybe it was the way her laughter filled the air, making my chest feel oddly light, as if I could float if I weren’t careful. Whatever it was, she’d flipped a switch inside me.

Was this how Joshua felt when he looked at Lydia?

One thing was certain: forty-five minutes with Katie Kim had felt like an eternity, but three hours—yes, it had taken me three hours to drink two beers—with Violet had gone by in the blink of an eye. I found myself trying to stretch every moment, barely sipping my beer just so I could linger a little longer.

Surely, it wasn’t just me. Connections like this didn’t happen every day. She must have felt it too, right? After all, she was the one who kept the conversation alive. She was the one leading the way, carrying us from one topic to the next. And she didn’t do it out of politeness or obligation—at least, it didn’t feel that way. She did it because she wanted to, because something about this—about us—felt easy and right.

I pressed the fob, the car unlocking with a quiet beep and the driver’s side door opening. Sliding into the seat, I pressed the button to start the engine. The quiet hum of the electric motor filled the space around me, but I didn’t immediately drive away. Instead, I leaned back, letting my head rest against the seat, and closed my eyes.

I wanted to hold on to her, to imprint her on my memory before the moment slipped away. I wanted to remember the curve of her smile, the way her cheeks rounded when she laughed, and how her caramel-colored eyes sparkled with humor. The way her hands moved as she spoke, as if she were trying to explain the mysteries of the universe rather than joking about upholstering chairs with the skin of fictional victims.

But as much as I tried to focus on those details, my thoughts veered into dangerous territory. Images filled my mind—images of her lips pressing softly against mine, of her body melting into me, of her head tilting back as she whispered my name in the dark.

And then, just as quickly, different pictures came. Softer ones. Of her walking barefoot through a kitchen, her hair loose around her shoulders, a little girl balanced on her hip as she stirred something in a pot. Of us sitting together on a porch somewhere, sharing a single chair as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting everything in golden light. Laughter would fill the air, hers and Rose’s blending into something that felt like music. She’d lean into me, her head resting on my shoulder as if it had always belonged there.

I opened my eyes, blinking against the images that had no business taking root in my mind. No. It was too soon for thoughts like that. Too soon for daydreams about a life that wasn’t mine. I shook my head as if I could physically dislodge the thoughts, as if I could somehow rewind to the man I’d been three hours earlier—the man who hadn’t yet met Violet.

Gripping the steering wheel, I pressed down on the accelerator, easing the car out of its parking spot and into the quiet streets. The city lights blurred past me, streaks of white and gold against the darkness, but my mind refused to quiet. The farther I drove, the more a gnawing anxiety began to settle in my chest.

Should I have left her there? Alone in a bar late at night?

I thought of the way she’d waved that guy off with a smile, so sure of herself, so unbothered by the idea of walking home alone. Still, the thought unsettled me. When did the bar close? Would she be okay? What if something happened to her on the way home?

I should have asked for her phone number. That way, I could at least check in, make sure she’d gotten home safely. The idea of not knowing—of being left in the dark—tied my stomach into knots.

But it seemed as if that guy—Sam—would take care of her. Watching them together made my blood boil. The way he flirted with her so blatantly, the way he looked at her with that easy smile, was enough to set my teeth on edge. It was clear to anyone who paid attention that he was trying to win her over, using every opportunity to inch closer to her.

Somehow, though, it seemed like Violet didn’t really notice. Or maybe she chose to ignore it. That thought struck me like a punch to the gut. What if she didn’t mind his attention? Would she be interested if she realized how obvious his intentions were? He clearly knew her well—intimately, even. The way he casually offered to look after her daughter, and how he somehow tricked her into letting him pay for dinner, spoke volumes. He wasn’t just some friend. He was someone who’d wormed his way into her life, and that made me feel more territorial than I cared to admit.

Then it hit me: it must be hard being a single mom, especially with the salary she earned at the bar. It couldn’t be much. As far as I knew, bartenders and waitstaff lived mostly off tips, and even with that, making ends meet couldn’t be easy. That thought made me feel a little better about the hundred-dollar bill I’d left. If it could make things even a fraction easier for her over the next few days, it was worth it. Besides, a hundred bucks was nothing in my world.

A dark chuckle escaped my lips at the thought. Our worlds couldn’t have been more different—they were light-years apart. I wore custom designer suits and dined at exclusive restaurants where a single bottle of wine could cost more than someone’s monthly rent. My days were filled with meetings, contracts, and making decisions that affected hundreds of people. And as much as I hated to admit it, I probably made her entire monthly salary in an hour—if not less.

Her world was likely the one I’d grown up in. The one where you had to pick which bills were the most important to pay that month, the one where coupons were clipped and budgets stretched to the breaking point. The one where people cuddled together under a shared blanket, not just for comfort but to save on heating costs. She probably had some help—it sounded like she had a few people in her corner. But even with support, it wouldn’t be enough.

She and Rose deserved more. They deserved everything. They deserved to eat the best food, to experience the world, to choose their favorite cities and call them home. They deserved to live without the constant anxiety of bills or groceries, without ever doubting that the fridge would be full or the electricity would stay on. Violet deserved the kind of life that made her smile every day, the kind of life where she didn’t have to work late nights just to get by.

As I drove into the parking garage, my thoughts drifted to Rose. What did she look like? Did she resemble her mother? Did she have those same mesmerizing caramel-colored eyes, warm and expressive, that seemed to draw you in? Or perhaps her hair—was it that beautiful auburn shade, and was it wavy or straight? Was she tall, or had she inherited Violet’s petite frame? I wondered if her smile would make my chest expand in the same way Violet’s did. Would her laughter sound as pure and delightful, the kind of sound that could brighten even the darkest day?

The car came to a stop in my reserved spot, but I didn’t immediately get out. Instead, I slumped back into the seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I couldn’t let myself get this invested—not this quickly. Every rational part of my mind screamed that this was a mistake, that I was acting impulsively. Anyone on my payroll would look at this situation and call it a terrible investment. It was too risky. There were too many unknown variables.

And yet, despite all that logic, I couldn’t shake her from my thoughts.

I didn’t even know if Violet was truly interested in me. After all, I was the one who had asked her out—bluntly, at that—and she hadn’t exactly said yes. Sure, she’d said she was flattered, but that wasn’t the same as a clear answer. And yet, I understood her hesitation. Her life wasn’t simple, and dating as a single mother came with its own set of challenges.

But I couldn’t bring myself to care about those challenges. I didn’t see them as obstacles. I saw them as just part of her, part of the life she lived—and part of the life I wanted to be part of.

Finally, I turned off the car and stepped out, my shoes echoing softly against the polished concrete of the garage floor. My steps quickened as I headed toward the elevator, the determination building with every step.

By the time I reached my floor, I’d made up my mind.

No matter what it took, I would show Violet that I was serious about her, that I wasn’t just some passing fancy or a guy looking for a fling. If she wanted me, I would make sure she knew that I was ready to be there for her—and for Rose, too.

I wouldn’t let this go. I wouldn’t let her go.

Unless Violet explicitly told me to leave her alone, I wasn’t going to stop. I would be patient. I would prove myself. And maybe, just maybe, she’d realize that she didn’t have to do it all alone.

I wanted her in my life, and I was ready to do whatever it took to make that happen.

As I walked into my penthouse, the city lights glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, one thought consumed me entirely:

I was going to make Violet mine.