Darkside Love Affair

by Michelle Rosigliani

  It might have been more comfortable for her if I had walked up and handed her the bag, but I was done facilitating matters for her. If she wanted her purse, she’d better come and get it.

  After a long moment of hesitation, I was confident she wouldn’t, but that rebellious flash of determination returned to her eyes, and just like that, she was before me, reaching for her purse. Only I found I wasn’t prepared to let go. Or maybe now that our ways were meant to split, I discovered that teasing her was a bottomless source of enjoyment.

  When she recovered her bag from my grasping hand and stormed off, all drenched and furious, with her makeup running and those haunting eyes frowning, I couldn’t help but chuckle. And follow...

  She might not have agreed to let me accompany her, but that didn’t mean I had to listen to her. Before long, I realized that we were headed in the same direction. How ironic was it that this unknown, mysterious woman lived in the same apartment building as Liv? How strange was it that we had to meet under these circumstances rather than bump into each other while one exited the elevator and the other one climbed in? And how likely was it for us to meet again?

  Wiping a smile off my face, I allowed her to enter the building, waited for five minutes, and then followed. The doorkeeper greeted me with a nod when I stepped inside. He already knew where I was going, so he didn’t stop me to ask questions. During the short meeting with the brown-eyed woman, my mood had shifted, and I was suddenly not prepared to face Liv. But she had called, and I owed her.

  By the time I knocked on Liv’s door, the power was back on, and no sound came from her apartment. Usually, when I stopped by, I only needed to knock once, and she would open the door wide with a cautious expression plastered upon her face like she had been waiting a minute too long for my arrival. Now, an austere, annoying silence greeted me. I knocked again and again and was getting ready to knock the damn door down when a click resonated in the silence.

  She unlocked the door but didn’t open it which struck me as strange—much too strange for Liv. A claw of fear seized my throat and prevented air from getting to my lungs as I gripped the door handle and pushed the door open. She wouldn’t have dared to do something foolish. She couldn’t have.

  Liv was standing in the middle of the living room, facing the window and hugging herself. In the course of time, I had learned all her gestures and habits. She was both anxious and irritated. And if memory served me well, each time she was irritated, she somehow managed to unleash all that anger on me. But tonight, I was too drained of energy to be the buffer that absorbed her mood swings.

  “Liv...are you okay? The power is on...”

  “If I’m okay,” she mumbled under her breath and made an agitated gesture with her hands, then spun around like a tornado. “You ask me if I am okay? I’ve been here all alone, scared. It was dark and you—you—I called you, but you didn’t come. You weren’t here.”

  “Liv, I’m sorry. I wasn’t close enough to get here in time—” I trailed off, the lie leaving a foul taste on my tongue.

  “Lately, you’re never close enough,” she accused, struggling to walk back and forth as tears bathed her face. My eyes immediately settled on her left leg, which she absentmindedly rubbed as she limped on.

  “You know that is not true, Liv.”

  “Is it not?” she snapped, her glare confronting my weary stare.

  “No, it is not,” I retorted firmly and closed the gap between us.

  When I pulled her into my arms, her whole body quaked with sobs. Sometimes it was difficult to discern whether my absence or my embrace made her more vulnerable.

  “I was scared,” she repeated, fisting her small hands in my jacket.

  “I know, baby. I am here now,” I assured her, kissing the top of her head while my hands stroked her hair.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte

  I despised lack of punctuality, so being the cause for delaying a meeting was not on my list of favored accomplishments. When said meeting was with James Burton himself, the whole problem turned into a nightmare.

  Drumming my fingers on the counter, I struggled to keep up a formal expression as the barista fumbled with the coffee machine. I had been waiting for more than ten minutes to get a miserable cup of coffee, and the girl behind the counter had yet to take my order. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I realized she was as stressed and as busy as every citizen around her, but understanding her problems didn’t lessen my own.

  “Yes, Miss?” the girl behind the bar said eventually, straining to make her voice sound pleasant. She couldn’t be older than twenty.

  “A medium espresso, no sugar, please.”

  Luckily, the firm was a five-minute walk, but the girl’s working speed, or lack of, lessened any chances I might have had of getting there before my father. As soon as she put the cup on the counter, I grabbed it and shoved the money into her hands, not waiting for any change.

  It was a small pleasure to wrap my fingers around the hot paper cup and bring it closer to my nose so I could savor the poignant aroma of the coffee, but it was a real annoyance to take the first sip and be invaded by a sickly sweet taste that almost made me nauseous.

  I was already by the door, and the interminable line of people waiting for their hopefully well-prepared coffee discouraged me from returning and asking for another cup, precisely as I had ordered it. My mood hadn’t been a spectacular one to start with, but now it was worsening by the second.

  I pushed the glass door open with my shoulder, determined to dump my coffee in the first trash bin I encountered when a solid black mass slammed into me, knocking the breath out of my lungs. Almost instantly, I felt the hot contents of my cup soaking through my formerly white suit jacket, burning my skin until I shrieked and let the cup fall from my fingers in a desperate attempt to peel the scalding clothes from my body. But no matter how much it burned, I couldn’t undress in the middle of the jam-packed New York streets.

  I had been somewhat ill-humored ever since Friday night, so I wasn’t surprised to have reached the limits of my patience so soon and so fast. I ceased my agitated movements and snapped my head up to the idiotic person who hadn’t been watching where he was going, ready to unleash the most acidic retort I could muster. When my eyes focused on the man’s face, I gasped and swallowed my words.

  “Dude, she’s the—”

  “I know who she is,” the solid black mass snapped, his eyes not leaving mine.

  I knew the young man behind him because now in the full light of day I could see him for what he actually was—a boy who had yet to grow up. He was one of the three hoodlums who had attacked me Friday night, one of the three who had made me fear for my safety. But now, as he peered at me as if I were a freak of nature, he almost amused me. Almost....

  And I also recognized the man standing between us, because he was one hundred percent purely, terrifyingly male. He was the one who had made the other three stop, the one who had scared me the most.

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered and threw my hands in the air.

  The likes of them were exactly what I needed for a Monday morning. I sidestepped them, praying that I could get to work without any more incidents, but of course, they had to follow. Although people surrounded me from all sides, one presence stood out—that of the man walking to my right, smoothly matching my hurried strides.

  “I’m sorry, I just didn’t see you,” he tried to explain. “Are you okay?”

  The man had a tendency and a liking for stupid questions. I was drenched in hot coffee, I was late for work, and I reeked. I had him and his friend following me and reminding me of Friday night. I was due to listen to my father’s lecture on responsibility and endure an impossible day in an impossible outfit. How was I supposed to be okay?

  “Kai, can you ask her if she is okay or if she needs help? She tends to speak to you more than she does to me,” he said casually.

  Although I kept my eyes stubbornly trained forward, I could feel his eyes even mor
e stubbornly trained on me.

  “Miss, are you...”

  “Oh, shut up,” I snapped, not slowing down my pace. “I heard him perfectly. And the only thing you can help me with is to stop following me.”

  “It’s not my fault that you are so small that I didn’t even see you,” the taller one said defensively, shoving a hand through his hair.

  “Unbelievable,” I scoffed, unable to keep myself from looking up at him.

  He couldn’t have known, but he had struck where it hurt. I wasn’t so short as to be considered petite, but my height had always frustrated me. In a world so big, I had always felt much too small. The fact that he was mocking me was infuriating.

  “You are not only assaulting me but also offending me.”

  “I wasn’t trying to offend—For God’s sake, can you stop for a moment?”

  “Just stay away from me,” I ordered harshly and walked away.

  When I finally managed to get to work and stepped out of the elevator, my assistant’s eyes were like saucers and her mouth slightly agape. She cleared her throat and jumped to her feet but couldn’t quite disguise her shock at seeing me all disheveled and late, to top it off.

  “I will bring your spare suit immediately,” Sofia offered and set into motion. But there was something odd about her, and it had nothing to do with seeing me in such disastrous shape.

  “The meeting has already started, hasn’t it?”

  It was a customary meeting that my father held each Monday for all the partners. He was updated about the ongoing cases and also addressed any possible issues regarding the firm. It was so customary that it had become a downright bore, but James Burton wouldn’t even think of canceling such meetings, let alone accept the absence of one of his partners.

  “Yes,” she replied without really meeting my eyes. “Mr. Burton was furious.”

  Sofia was professionally detached but tremendously loyal, and sometimes, she took my father’s fits as if they were directed at her instead of me. It was evident from the tense lines around her eyes that she had already undergone such an outburst. She made no complaints, however, and five minutes later she knocked on my office door with my spare suit in her hands.

  When I made it to the conference room, the partners were already filing out, and my father was standing at the end of the table, pinning me through the glass wall with hardly concealed irritation. I groaned and tried to gather the courage to face his wrath.

  “Father, I’m so—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he cut me off and motioned me to sit. “At least you are not late for the most important part.”

  My brows shot up in confusion, but he didn’t consider it appropriate to enlighten me. Moments later, however, when Mayor Mitch Stewart entered the room, the situation was clear enough. My absence at the meeting hadn’t really been missed since it was mandatory now.

  “James, thank you for accommodating me on such short notice,” the mayor greeted my father and shook hands vigorously.

  “Nonsense, it is our pleasure.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” the mayor continued and turned to me. “Char–Can I call you Charlotte? You are riveting. I wanted to personally thank you for agreeing to join my son’s legal team. He is extremely fortunate to have you.”

  Only he didn’t have me. My eyes traveled to my father, who continued to fix me with his censorious stare. He knew I hadn’t accepted the case, and this was his way of ensuring I had no option but to say yes.

  My cheeks colored, and my eyes burned with rage, but although I hated my father’s smugness, I wasn’t about to undermine his authority in front of the mayor of Washington, D.C. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and plastered a cold smile on my face.

  “I’ll do my best so justice will prevail.”

  The mayor gave me a wink that contorted his whole face. He was too old to be attractive but possessed that particular appeal that politicians do, which rendered him charismatic and mysterious. His eyes were big and colorless behind his clear glasses, and his hair was gray and thinning. He stood stiffly, with his chin slightly lifted and his chest inflated beneath the expensive jacket of his suit.

  I extended my hand to shake his, but Mitch Stewart caught my fingers and brought them to his lips, all the time surveying me with a shadow of mischief, the kind that was not playful but downright evil. I suppressed a shiver and removed my hand from his grasp.

  “Now, let’s talk business,” the mayor said and took a seat across from me.

  I wasn’t prejudiced, but I did have killer instincts and an uncanny ability to read people. The mayor looked and behaved like a proper gentleman, but it was only a very classy façade. He was quietly aggressive and wore the armor of a man who possessed enough power to make him untouchable. He was influential and fearless, but he was not indomitable, and he certainly was not above the law.

  “For the duration of my son’s trial, we’d like to have you move to D.C. It would be more convenient if you worked at Cameron Drake’s firm than here.”

  “Mr. Stewart, I understand the importance of your son’s case, but I do have other cases that require equal attention on my part.”

  “I’m sure we will be able to properly reconcile Jack’s case with Charlotte’s other commitments,” my father intervened. My jaw clenched, and I was convinced they had heard the sound of my teeth clinking together.

  “I see. But you will have to be present for all the meetings, and I’m afraid that is non-negotiable.”

  “Of course.”

  “We can’t wait for you to join us. Anything you might need for your stay, please let me know. I will personally ensure your requirements are met.”

  I nodded but did not fall for his chivalrous act. The more he talked, the more strained his courtesy seemed. He was the man that others pleased, not the one who met people’s requirements. And then it dawned on me why he accepted me on his team. While Cameron Drake was lead-counsel, I was the publicity stunt.

  One of my father’s many attempts to convince me that being a lawyer was the best thing I could do with my life had been striking a deal. For any high-level case I successfully settled, I could work on any pro bono case of my choosing. And I chose those who couldn’t or didn’t know how to defend themselves. I chose battered women and exploited children, and for once, I drew satisfaction from my job.

  Before long, I had built a reputation for being fair and dangerously determined to put abusers behind bars. So, being the one to defend someone accused of the ultimate form of abuse had to raise some questions like maybe he wasn’t guilty after all? I was the figure who was going to make his son look good.

  “And there’s something else I came here for.”

  The mayor pushed a folder across the table, and I opened it with reluctant fingers. They wanted me to gather evidence and testimonies that Jack Stewart was an upstanding citizen. While such proof wasn’t going to acquit him of the crime he was accused of, it was undoubtedly going to sway the jury in his favor.

  “I’ll get to work. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Mayor.”

  My back was rigid as I walked out of the conference room. Nothing about today was nice, and I got the horrible feeling that things weren’t going to be nice for a long while. When my father followed me into my office, his face tight and bleak, it was evident that the worst part of my day hadn’t passed yet.

  He sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of my desk and regarded me with a narrowed look that was the only indication of his disappointment.

  “Charlotte...” he began somberly, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on his chest. He was able to make even my own name sound like a reprimand.

  When he looked at me with that intent, reproachful stare, I didn’t feel like a full-grown woman but a little girl who tried time and time again to please a father who could not be pleased. Irritation and discomfort mingled together, and eventually, the annoyance won.

  “I don’t appreciate you strong-arming me into acce
pting a case.”

  James Burton was not accustomed to being confronted, especially not by his daughter, but he was experienced enough to quickly school his expression into a neutral mask as he stood and glared my way. His stare was somber and implacable as he pointed his finger in my direction.

  “I don’t appreciate you being ungrateful, so get your act together and start preparing Jack Stewart’s defense.”

  “I already told you that I am not comfortable accepting this case, not when I work daily with abused women and do my best to defend them from the likes of Jack Stewart. You can’t ask me to work for somebody I don’t believe in.”

  He didn’t even listen. He gestured irritably then pinned me with a conclusive stare.

  “There is a big difference between tolerating your little hobbies and turning a blind eye to you sabotaging your career. This is a high-profile case that will serve as a launching ramp for you.”

  I couldn’t entirely control my disbelieving gasp, nor bring myself to care about the disapproving daggers in his eyes. The pro bono work I did was one of the few satisfactions I had from being a lawyer. That my father considered it a hobby both hurt and angered me.

  “How will I be of any service to Jack Stewart if I don’t have his best interest at heart?”

  “By holding judgment,” he snapped. At that moment, James Burton looked more like a stranger than my own father. “I wasn’t making a request, Charlotte. You will take the case, and you might hate me if that pleases you, but mark my word, darling, the day will come when you will thank me.”

  “I doubt that,” I whispered to myself and lowered my eyes in defeat.

  It took that small gesture of acquiescence for my father to recover his harmonious disposition. He rounded my desk, cupped my cheeks, and pressed a fatherly kiss on my forehead, allowing me to dream that he was a warm understanding father. Then he straightened his silver suit jacket and walked past me without another glance.