Six Years as His Mistress

For six years, Violet McCarthy had been Percival Leblanc's mistress, the heir of Morvani's powerful Leblanc family. After another night of passion, Violet watched Percival asleep beside her. Certain he wouldn't wake, she slipped from bed, walked to the living room, and made a call. "Violet?" The woman on the other end spoke in a low, authoritative voice. "Six years already. Haven't you had enough fun? It's time to come home." "Mom. I'll be back in Iskavia in a month," Violet replied calmly. "I'll go through with the marriage alliance... With the blind heir from the Coffey family." Her mother, Joyce McCarthy, fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had softened into something almost warm... Though to Violet, it sounded faintly unreal. "I'm glad you've finally come around. What time will you land? Which airport? I'll have someone there to pick you up..." It seemed that only when family interests were involved did Joyce sound anything like a real mother. After giving her a few brief details, Violet hung up. She stood by the window, looking out over the dazzling night view of Brooklyn Bridge Park, then slowly lit a cigarette. This was Violet's sixth year with Percival, and the first day she resolved to leave him. ***** Six years ago, trying to escape a marriage arranged by her family, Violet had fled to the chaotic, unpredictable city of Morvani. On her very first day there, she was kidn*pped. Her captors had mistaken her for Cynthia Farley, the woman rumored to be the one Percival Leblanc had never gotten over. They planned to use her as leverage against him. No matter how Violet tried to explain, they refused to believe she wasn't Cynthia. Just when she was certain she would die there, Percival showed up. "Where're you from?" he asked. Blood splattered through the air as he stepped in front of her, taking it on his back without even flinching. Yet in the middle of the chaos, he wore an almost amused smile. "I don't have a home," Violet said. "Guess that makes you a stray." His gaze, sharp and unapologetically intrusive, lingered on her face for a long moment, as though he were seeing someone else through her. "You're lucky," he said at last. "You look a lot like someone I used to know. I'll take care of you. But I have one condition." Percival flicked ash from his cigarette, his voice smooth, persuasive, and impossible to refuse. "Learn the violin. Once you do, you'll play a piece for me every day." The most reckless thing Violet had ever done in her otherwise quiet life was agreeing to go with Percival that day. Under his indulgent protection, Violet enjoyed every privilege that had once belonged to Cynthia, and for the first time in her life, she tasted real freedom. But Morvani was a city full of dangerous undercurrents. Over time, many people began to see her as the perfect leverage against Percival. Violet knew the truth herself. She was nothing more than a decoy, standing in the open to protect the real Cynthia. Until that day... "Let her go." Percival had barged in alone, and the tremor in his voice betrayed how tense he really was. "Mr. Leblanc," one of the kidnappers sneered as he loaded a bullet into the chamber, "get down on your knees and beg, and we might let her go." 'Kneel?' That was impossible. Percival Leblanc was a man built on pride. The word kneel had never existed in his world. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against Violet's temple. She felt a wave of cold despair wash over her. Percival's expression darkened, the silence stretching so long that Violet genuinely thought he was going to turn around and walk away. The arrogant, untamable man lowered his head. Without a word, he slowly dropped to his knees. It felt as though a heavy hammer had slammed directly into Violet's chest. "Why?" Violet asked him. 'Why kneel for someone as insignificant as a stand-in?' "Vivi, it's okay now. Let's go home." Percival didn't answer her question. It was the first time he had ever called her Vivi. That night, Violet didn't sleep at all. She was a star that had drifted off its orbit. She knew that getting too close to Percival would only end in her breaking apart, yet she still couldn't resist the pull of his gravity. She wanted him. After more than twenty years of living like a puppet who was always played by the rules, she wanted, just this once, to choose something for herself.