Chapter 196 A Peculiar Stir
Violet's heart skipped a beat, though not for the reasons one might anticipate. Fate, it seemed, had a knack for delivering precisely what one sought to evade directly to their doorstep.
As she made her way towards the elevator in the company of Max, Brady, who was coincidentally heading in the same direction, sauntered past. His intentions towards Violet were clear, though they were of a purely physical nature. He harbored no deep affection for her, at least not yet. Brady was not the type to react like a jealous twenty-something, creating a scene over Violet's association with another man, especially not Max.
Nonchalantly, Brady continued on his path, his assistant trailing behind him, towards a different set of elevators.
However, upon spotting Brady, Max took it upon himself to extend a cordial greeting. "Brady, good morning."
Feeling obligated to acknowledge Brady's presence, Violet echoed Max's sentiment. "Brady, morning."
Brady responded with a barely audible hum, his gaze lingering on Violet with an intensity that was hard to ignore.
As they all readied themselves to board their respective elevators, an unexpected figure emerged. A young man, his face partially obscured by a black bandana, clutching a glass bottle, lunged at Violet with a primal roar.
This was a fanatical devotee of Loraine, incensed by the morning's revelation of her engagement, a truth he found impossible to digest. The source of this leak was none other than JK's designer, Violet.
His intention was to confront Violet, to prevent her from spreading further rumors and tarnishing the image of his beloved idol.
The sudden attack left everyone present in a state of shock, Violet included. The only exception was Brady, who watched the assailant's charge with a steely gaze, seemingly unfazed.
Without uttering a word, Brady stepped protectively in front of Violet, pulling her behind him. His warm palm firmly gripped her delicate hand, a silent promise of protection.
As the bandana-clad assailant advanced, bottle raised, a sickening crack echoed through the air, suggestive of shattered ribs.
Brady, well-versed in the art of boxing, had swiftly delivered a kick, effortlessly sending his opponent sprawling to the ground.
The young man collapsed onto the floor, clutching his chest in agony, his cries echoing pitifully through the space.
Witnessing the man writhing in pain, Violet felt an unfamiliar sensation squeeze her heart at the sight of Brady defending her. But she didn't allow this feeling to linger, shaking it off almost as soon as it had surfaced. She attempted to free her hand from his warm grasp, but Brady held on, refusing to let go.
Growing anxious, Violet whispered a reminder. "Brady, we're at the office."
Did she genuinely believe that Brady wouldn't dare to make a move on her in the office?
At the sound of her voice, Brady turned to glance at her. As expected, he released her hand.
The moment she was freed, Violet immediately began to rub her hand, which had been held so tightly.
She stood there in silence.
Meanwhile, Max, still reeling from the shock of the recent events, had missed the exchange between Brady and Violet. He was about to check on her when the man, who had been writhing on the floor in pain, suddenly rose to his feet. Wincing, he raised the wine bottle in his hand, aiming it at Violet. "Violet, you malicious designer, revealing Loraine's engagement like that, I'm going to kill you!”
As the man shouted and swung the bottle down, Violet was taken aback and prepared to dodge. But before she could, the man in front of her intervened once again.
Brady reached out to block the bottle for her.
A loud 'clang' echoed through the space, followed by the gasp of a nearby assistant. "Brady, your hand is bleeding!”
Violet turned to look at Brady in shock.
His hand was indeed cut by the glass bottle, a long gash from which blood was flowing profusely.
In that moment, something stirred within Violet's heart.
But it was only for that moment.
Violet was well aware that nothing could come of this. She could allow herself to feel gratitude, but dared not let any deeper feelings take root.
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