Chapter Thirteen

Violet

Alta Mura Road, Pacific Palisades, bordering Will Rogers State Historic Park, California…

“Talk about the perfect coalescence of modern architecture and panoramic views,” Violet cooed as she drove up the long, gated driveway leading to a hidden motor court to the side of the imposing three-story house. “I don’t even want to guess what this house cost him. Imagine that, having your own private road to get to your house.”

Violet was still irked that she’d had to spend hours to find his location. Yes, she had a slew of investigators working for her, but she had no intention of a rumor starting about her searching for the billionaire’s private home address.

“Now, this is impressive,” she murmured as she exited the car and headed to the front door, twirling around to take in what had to be the centerpiece of this architectural jewel—a triple-story waterfall in a courtyard encased in walls of glass on three sides. “An iconic modern view estate in the Riviera is a more accurate description,” she said sotto voce as she gawked at the two-thirds acre promontory with wraparound views from Will Rogers Park to the Pacific Ocean to downtown Los Angeles.

“I do appreciate promptness, Miss Russo.”

“Holy shit,” she gasped at the unexpected voice trumping toward her. Looking around, she found the dark silhouette as it detached itself from the shadows. “Do you always scare your visitors like this?” she huffed while breathing in deeply to settle her suddenly frayed mind.

“I was walking my dogs, and you happened to arrive just as we were about to enter the house.” He glanced at his watch. “You are five minutes early.”

Squaring her shoulders, she glared at him. “Should I get back in my car and wait them out? I mean, I don’t want to impose on your time.”

With a primal groan echoing inside her mind as his dark chuckle wrapped itself around her soul, she squeezed her thighs together in a desperate attempt to subdue the wanton desire that spread through her loins.

“No need. Come inside, Miss Russo.”

“Oh… ehm… perhaps you should put your dogs away first,” she squealed as the two black dogs finally came into view. “Those are monsters, not dogs.” Without conscious thought, she retreated as one of them approached her. “I… ehm… please keep your animal in check. I have no desire to be his dinner tonight.”

“Calm down, Violet. All he wants to do is set your mind at ease that he’s a sweet little lamb.”

“Since he’s bigger than any lamb, or sheep for that matter, I’ve ever seen, I highly doubt that.”

The massive dog edged closer, despite Violet's protests, and gently pressed his wet nose into her trembling palm. With her heart hammering, she froze as the animal sniffed her hand with deliberate care. Though he settled back on his haunches, his intense brown eyes fixed on her face made her breath catch in her throat.

“W-What kind of dogs did you say these are?” she managed to ask in a voice barely above a whisper. The memory of sharp teeth and thundering barks from her childhood made her fingers twitch.

“They’re Cane Corsos,” Dexter replied, his tone gentle. “They look intimidating, but they’re incredibly loving and protective. They’re basically giant teddy bears who take their job of guarding their family very seriously.”

The dog tilted his head, a soft whine escaping him as he watched her with an expression that could only be described as pleading. Despite her racing pulse, Violet found herself drawn to those soulful eyes. There was something disarmingly sweet about the way he waited so patiently, his stubby tail sweeping the ground in slow, hopeful wags.

“I suppose…” she started as her fingers uncurled slightly, “you don’t look quite as terrifying when you make that face.” The dog’s tail wagged faster, and before she could stop herself, her hand reached out to scratch behind his ears. His fur was surprisingly soft, and the contented rumble that vibrated through him brought an unexpected smile to her face.

“What’s his name?” Keeping her voice soft in fear of sparking the protective K9 to awake, she continued scratching his fur.

“Thunder.”

Violet looked up in disgust. “Thunder? Really? You couldn’t come up with a more fitting name for such a magnificent animal?”

“Wait until you hear him bark,” Dexter responded with a smile.

“Oh!” Violet laughed as the other dog tiptoed closer and dislodged her hand from Thunder, demanding attention.

“That’s… ehm…” Dexter hesitated, and Violet swore he looked sheepish as he scratched his head.

“Please tell me this one at least has a decent name.”

“That depends on your definition of decent.”

“I swear, if you tell me her name is Molly or Sarah, I’m going to report you to the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.”

“Ah, well, then we’re safe. Her name is…” Again, the hesitation.

“I already sense it’s bad, so you might as well spit it out.”

“Barbie.”

“You’re not serious?” Violet stared at him with what she was sure was an aghast expression. “Barbie? As in the doll, Barbie?”

“The very same.” He held up his hand before she could express her horror. “Before you burn me at the altar, there’s a very good reason I named her that.”

“I can’t wait to hear this,” she muttered as she went down on her haunches and hugged the dogs, her fear completely dissipating now that their loving natures were exposed.

“When she was a pup and I took them for walks, and she would steal every Barbie doll she could find. Grabbed them right out of the little girls’ hands at the park, she was that infatuated with them. So… I figured she was telling me her name.”

“Well, I guess it’s our saving grace you didn’t name Thunder, Ken,” she said as she rose and walked toward Dexter. “Oh… aren’t they too cute?” She laughed as the two dogs immediately flanked her and walked alongside her into the house.

“Hmm… they don’t normally react like this to strangers. Dogs have a sixth sense about humans, so I guess you’re special and can be trusted.”

Violet’s words dried up the moment she entered the house, which was very clearly designed for entertaining on a grand scale. The living room opened to the main lawn, and the dining room soared with double-height ceilings. A gourmet kitchen and family room were adjacent to a large infinity-edge pool and a covered dining area. The view to the west was spectacular.

“This is a gorgeous house,” she said in awe as she walked from one area into the other.

“It was designed by Paul McClean and built by JCP Enterprises, my cousin Jax’s company.”

“And you live here alone… with just Thunder and Barbie?” She smiled as the two dogs immediately perked up and looked at her.

“I like my privacy.” He shrugged. “Since I also like the outdoors, this was the perfect location to offer me a peaceful resort-like outdoor living with a solar heated pool, five-hole putting green, outdoor kitchen, and a beautiful lawn. The best way to spend an evening is at the firepit with a glass of rich Cabernet, enjoying the view.” Violet was enraptured by the wistful smile on his face. “I want a family one day soon, so I had this place designed with that in mind. The lower level includes a game room with a bar, wine cellar, and a state-of-the-art cinema and gym.”

Violet stiffened as the unbidden vision swept through her mind of two young boys with Dexter’s untamed golden curls and piercing gray eyes, running across that perfectly manicured lawn. The image struck her with such clarity, she had to shake her head to dispel it as her heart clenched with an emotion she refused to name.

As the founding partner of DeRusso & Associates, one of L.A.’s most formidable criminal defense firms, Violet had crafted her life with precision. High-profile cases, court appearances, and client consultations filled her calendar. She’d fought tooth and nail to establish herself in the legal world, proving herself in a male-dominated profession while carefully maintaining her distance from her family’s more... questionable enterprises. Her tailored Armani suits and briefcase were her armor, her Yale Law degree her shield.

But it was more than just her career that kept her from entertaining thoughts of motherhood. The Russo family name carried weight in Los Angeles—well, more so the Gragna Mafia that made headlines in ways that never saw print. She’d grown up watching her brothers and cousins being groomed for “the family business” and had seen the careful way her aunts and her mother sheltered their children from certain truths until they were old enough to be initiated.

The thought of bringing a child into that world, of watching innocent eyes slowly become shadowed with understanding, made her feel physically ill. She once again cursed her decision to now become involved in her family problems. The risk she was taking could end her career… her entire life could be turned upside down.

“It’s a beautiful dream,” she said finally, her voice carefully neutral as she pushed away from the railing of the balcony looking out over the mountain. “Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“Meaning?” Dexter prodded as he handed her a glass of white wine. “Thunder, Barbie… behave,” he warned as the two dogs crowded Violet. She was impressed when they retreated and settled in their fluffy beds in the corner.

“Some of us aren’t meant for white picket fences and Saturday morning soccer games.” She shrugged as she took a sip of the wine. “My life is about keeping innocent people out of prison and from being wrongly convicted.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Violet. Believe me, it’s the one thing I learned growing up. There’s always time for family.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Now, there’s definitely a topic we will discuss at a later stage. For now, dinner is ready. I thought we’d have it out here on the patio.” He gestured to the covered dining area where a rather romantic place setting awaited their attention. “Shall we?”

“Just to be clear, Mr. Flint,” Violet said with butterflies fluttering inside her stomach as he helped her to be seated. “I didn’t come here for anything other than finishing the discussion I wanted to have at your office this morning.”

“Discussion? Hmm… I suppose our definition of discussion versus accusations vary somewhat.” His eyebrows lowered as he sat down opposite her. “Relax, Violet. Nothing will happen unless you instigate it, but I have to warn you... I’m not easily seduced.”

“I already told you… it’s not—”

“Why you’re here. Yeah, I got the message. Ah, that smells divine, Carlos,” he said as a man in a white chef’s jacket arrived with a tray.

“Of course it does,” Carlos snickered. “Have I ever served you anything other than the best and tastiest food?”

“Can’t say you have.” He gestured to Violet. “Carlos, meet Miss Violet Russo. Violet, this is Carlos Dubois, the best chef in the city.”

“ Bonsoir, mademoiselle ,” Carlos said courteously and with a slight curtsy. “Please pardon Mr. Flint for his inaccuracy… I’m undoubtedly one of the best chefs in the world.”

“Judging by the smell coming from under these cloches, I am sure you’re correct.”

“ Merci, mademoiselle .” He smiled broadly as he turned to walk back into the house.

Following Dexter’s example, she picked up her utensils. The delicate Angel fish trembled on the fork as she searched for solid ground.

“So, I guess we can talk about why I’m here while we eat,” she ventured, hoping the meal would provide some shield against the turbulent emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Approaching him about her family felt like scaling an impossible peak. No one in her carefully curated professional or personal world knew she was the eldest daughter of George Lucky Russo. A name that made hardened criminals in Los Angeles break into cold sweats. She grimaced as Dexter shook his head with a resolute expression on his face.

“Bon Appetit, Violet, and no, we’re not,” he cut through her attempt with surgical precision. “I prefer light conversation or silence while I enjoy my meal. You choose but discussing your... problem isn’t going to be it.”

Violet’s body froze section by section at the darkening tone in his voice. Her eyes narrowed as she struggled to contain the despair running riot inside her.

“Why do I get the feeling that you already know why I’m here?”

“It involves your family, correct? Why else would you come to my office, flinging your brother’s visit to your house in my face with unfounded accusations?” He smiled grimly at her. “I’m considered a highly intelligent man, Violet. You’d be wise to remember that.” He pointed to her plate. “Now eat, and choose a general topic, or keep quiet.”

Violet clamped her mouth shut as her legal mind raced. As a defense attorney, she’d seen too many cases built on conversations just like this. Every Federal indictment she’d ever fought started with moments of false security, of careful traps being sprung. Her heart stuttered as the possibility crystallized—what if this elegant dinner was nothing more than an elaborate setup? What if his strict moral code had led him to orchestrate this entire evening, waiting for her to provide the final pieces of evidence that would send her father and brothers to Federal prison for life?

Her movements were mechanical as she lifted another bite of fish to her lips, forcing herself to chew and swallow past the knot in her throat. The perfectly seasoned Angel fish now tasted like ash in her mouth. Over the years, she’d coached countless clients through situations like this, yet here she sat, potentially walking into the same trap she’d warned others about.

Silently, she studied Dexter’s face as he ate, noting the controlled precision in every movement. His earlier warmth had been replaced by something cooler, more calculated. In the courtroom, she’d developed an almost preternatural ability to read people—it was what made her such a formidable defense attorney. But Dexter was different. It was like trying to read a book written in cipher.

Looking around unobtrusively, she kept eating. If this was an operation, every word was likely being recorded. The elegant setting could easily conceal surveillance equipment, and she’d walked right into it, desperate for his help.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. How many times had she sat across from clients, asking them how they could have been so careless?

Now, she understood the blinding power of desperation.

“The wine is excellent,” she offered carefully, buying time as she assessed her options.

“I’m glad you like it.” He gestured to the vineyard bordering his property. “It’s manufactured from grapes I grow myself.”

Violet suppressed a groan. How could one man have so many qualities that made him so perfect… and so out of reach?

“You’re full of surprises,” she muttered as she took another sip of the fragrant wine.

“As are you, Miss Russo.”

His cryptic response stayed the desire to further embark on senseless chatter. One wrong word could trigger a cascade of Federal indictments. The headlines flashed through her mind.

‘Prominent Defense Attorney’s Family Ties Exposed - Russo Crime Family Taken Down.’

Years of maintaining a pristine reputation, of building her practice into one of L.A.’s most respected criminal defense firms, could evaporate in an instant.