Page 37 of A Violet Obsession

He stares at me for several seconds, his expression blank. “I wanted to keep this civil, you know. You’re a pretty girl, and I like pretty things. I don’t like to damage them.” He waves a hand. “Which is why I tried to do this civilly. I even purchased this building this afternoon so we could have a private conversation. It’s remarkable what ownership does for accessibility.”

My stomach rolls. He bought my building?

“The security system here is deplorable.” He sounds genuinely offended. “I’ll have someone upgrade it before I flip the property. Consider it a parting gift once our business is concluded.”

“You’re too generous.” The sarcasm slips out before I can stop it.

His expression hardens. “I’ve already demonstrated that I am willing to be.” His gaze trails down over my body, and I cross my arms when I realize how thin my T-shirt is. “I’d like to continue being generous to you.”

And I’d like you to fuck off.

This time I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

The man at the window speaks without turning. “Markham’s moving in the truck. He knows something’s off.”

“Of course he does.” Voss gives a dramatic sigh. “Your friend has a fascinating background. Bloody. I bet you didn’t know that.”

I press my lips together. Finn’s actions from this afternoon run in my head like a movie.

Cybersecurity, my ass.

“He can’t help you from down there,” Voss says, reading my face. “And I’d prefer he didn’t try. My men have instructions to keep this contained, but if Mr. Markham forces a confrontation, things will escalate in ways that benefit no one.” His eyes hold mine. “Particularly you.”

He doesn’t look away when he says, “Make the call.”

The man at the window holds a small black phone to his ear, still staring down at the parking lot. Finn must answer immediately because all the man says is, “She’s in one piece. We won’t be here long. But if you get out of the truck, I’ll kill her.”

He snaps the phone shut and drops it in his pocket, keeping himself visible in the window.

Oh my god.

“Now.”

My horrified gaze swings back to Voss when he claps his hands.

“Let’s get this sorted, shall we?” He uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “The amethyst. You know what it is.”

“It’s a necklace.”

“Don’t be reductive. You wrote the provenance for the catalog.” His eyes gleam. “You know the stories that follow it through every century. First, Veridian’s patron signed away his fortune to the alchemist… to a man he hated only the week before, and the patron could never explain why afterward, even as he tried to reclaim his fortune. Then there was the cardinal, whose secretary possessed the amethyst and began sending letters with the cardinal’s own seal, that the cardinal swore he never dictated or approved, though he agreed it was his signature on them.

“A hundred years later, there was a general whose staff carried it into a campaign and woke one morning to find they had marched somewhere none of them had chosen.”

His voice drops. “At least seven hundred years of documented mysteries. Who knows how many more... One person holds it, and the people around do what they’re told.”

“It’s a pretty stone.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “And its owners over the years credited a superstition for their own bad behavior. I wrote the stories down, Mr. Voss, as color to drive interest in the auction. That doesn’t make them true.”

Something flickers across his face. Not anger… closer to delight?

“Don’t play stupid, Lily. I’ve looked into you. I know you are intelligent enough to know that the metaphysical properties of amethysts are widely documented. Cultures across the world tell of the crystals’ power. The ancient Greeks, medieval royals, even today’s mystics and healers use amethysts to enhance energy therapies and improve intuition.”

His face flushes, and I feel myself recoiling. “But the Veridian Amethyst.” He shakes his head. “The crystalline structure of that amethyst amplifies the electromagnetic power of the mind beyond all others. Veridian proved it.”

An icy shiver runs down my spine.

“It can reshape thought. Bend will,” he continues fervently. “You understand why it can’t be left in the hands of someone who would waste it on sentiment like Tate.” His lips purse in disgust. “Granted, the crystal can probably do what he wants. Connect with his dead wife’s energy… but that’s selfish!” He spits. “I would use it for the greater good. With the psychic powers I’ve recruited for my think tank…” His whole body shivers with excitement. “I could control the markets, governments, armies… make the world a better place.”

I hold very still, because it’s just occurred to me, Voss isn’t simply an entitled billionaire throwing a tantrum over a lost auction.