Page 1 of Dr. Bad Boy

1

Violet

July

three months ago

My heels clickon the polished stone floor of the Chateau Laurier hotel as I cut across the lobby and head for the lounge. I changed at the office, switching out my trousers for a short skirt and adding enough jewellery to take my blouse and jacket from lawyer to…something else.

I’m celebrating tonight, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I billed the top number of hours for a first or second year associate last month, or that I signed two new clients to the firm today.

No, tonight’s celebration is personal, which is why I’m doing it by myself.

My divorce was finalized this afternoon.

I’m officially single again, although I’ve been on my own for more than a year, and lonely for a lot longer than that.

So tonight I’m going to drink a martini or three in the fanciest hotel in the city and celebrate freedom.

I thought about going to the BDSM club I’ve visited a few times, but people know me there. Maybe not by my full name, but they know I’m a newbie to kink. Know I need protecting.

Tonight, I want to be seen as confident. Sexy. Anonymous and strong. Desirable just for being me.

And it doesn’t take long for me to slide into the skin of someoneother. Not me. Not quite the role I’ve played at clubs, either. A new person. Her name can be Violet, too. I’ll share that with her.

But this other woman has a confidence I’ve never let loose before. I’ve always been too afraid of being…too much. Too sexy, too pushy—and ha, that’s a hilarious joke given what I’ve learned about my preferences in the last year. The last thing I want is to be too pushy. If anything, I want to be pushed.

I’ve just ordered my drink, a lemon vodka martini, when the energy in the room shifts. Nobody else notices, but I feel it to my bones. From the corner of my eye, I see a dark suit. A man. Tall and commanding.

I make myself wait a beat before turning to give him a more obvious appraisal. I don't want to be disappointed. That’s right. This Violet owns the right to appraise and reject. Judge and measure, and find a man lacking.

Imight be disappointed inhim. I take a sip of my drink. Cool and crisp, it slides over my tongue. Bright citrus with a hard hit of heat at the back of my throat. I let the sweet warmth of knowing I’m good enough sweep through me.

But I’m not really ignoring him. I don't kid myself with that pretence—my attention is still glued on him.

And when I twist to the side and cross my legs, I feel his gaze move over me. His eyes settle on my face and I smile, slow and pleased with myself.

Pleased with him.

He doesn’t disappoint in the least.

He lifts one eyebrow. An unspoken question.

Yes, please, I say with a small nod of my head.

Taking another sip of my drink, I watch him prowl across the room to join me at the bar.

“Are you waiting for someone?” His voice is deep and smooth. It matches him.

He’s handsome in an almost impossible way. Chiseled face, warm eyes, a nose that may have been broken once, but he's better looking for it. His lips look soft, his jaw hard. He’s a big man, in his height and across his shoulders, but the rest of him looks built for speed. A fighter who might dance on his toes. A sprinter who could chase the wind.

I give him a soft, sultry smile that feels surprisingly natural. “I might be waiting for you.”

“I’m Max.”

I hold out my hand. “Very nice to meet you, Max.”

He gives me an up and down appraisal, which on any other night I’d have found super creepy. Or at least, from any other man. But he has this look about him—a familiarity and a kindness, maybe. Except the way he’s looking at me isn’t kind.

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