Reasonable Doubt

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  Conviction (n.):

  A judgment of guilt against a criminal defendant.

  Andrew

  “Mr. Hamilton?” Aubrey set my coffee down on my desk two weeks later. I’d personally insisted that she work as my intern, even though looking at her made me angry.

  I’d made a point not to say too much around her, to refrain from staring at her too long, and I couldn’t help being crueler than ever—dismissive even. I made her responsible for my daily coffee, demanded that she re-do every assignment at least three times, and whenever she asked for my help, I answered her with a detached “Figure it out yourself.”

  She never seemed upset or offended by my harshness, which made me even angrier. I’d thought that by having her work for me and seeing her crack under pressure that my attraction to her would fade, but it only intensified each time I saw her face.

  Especially today.

  As I pulled my coffee closer, I noticed that her nipples were poking through her thin, beige dress, and it was so tight that I could see the imprint of lace panties.

  Fuck...

  “Mr. Hamilton?” she asked again.

  “Yes, Miss Everhart?”

  “I have an important rehearsal for a ballet I’m a part of, so I was wondering...” She looked absolutely nervous. “Can I go home early today?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “I really need to be at this rehearsal...It’s at the Grand Hall.”

  “So?”

  “So,” she said, clearing her throat, “with all due respect, Mr. Hamilton, this is a pretty big deal for me. The Grand Hall is usually reserved for performances, so for them to open it and let us use it for a rehearsal is—”

  I wasn’t listening, and as much as I wanted to look at my work again and make it clear that she was being ignored, I couldn’t. I was too busy staring at the contours of her mouth.

  “That’s a fact.” She was still talking for some reason. “I think I’ve made very valid points, and since I’m not asking for too much, you should agree to let me go.”

  “Get back to work, Miss Everhart.”

  “Mr. Hamilton, please—”

  “Get. Back. To. Work.” I glared at her, daring her to let another word slip out of her seductive mouth. “I don’t care about your personal life. I pay you for twenty five hours a week, so you’ll work twenty five hours a week, and you’ll work them when I say you’ll work them. So, get back to your cubicle.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds, and I couldn’t help but notice tears welling in her eyes.

  “You can take that box of Kleenex with you on your way out,” I said.

  Shaking her head, she stepped back and headed for the door. “I’m going to ask Mr. Bach if I can leave early. No disrespect to you.”

  “Excuse me?” I stood up. “What did you just say?”

  She continued to walk toward the door, the sound of her heels clicking faster and faster. Before she could turn the knob, I spun her around and slammed my hand against the door.

  “I’m not a fan of insubordination, Miss Everhart.”

  “You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Her face was red, twisted in anger. ““I’m going to ask Mr. Bach to move me with someone else because I refuse to work with you anymore.”

  “Good luck with that. No one else wanted you. Only me.”

  “I highly doubt that.” She tried to move away, but I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.

  “I was the best interviewee and you fucking know it.” She hissed. “And since we both know that’s a fact, I don’t have to put up with your shit anymore.” She looked as if she wanted to spit in my face. “You are a cruel, cold, and condescending asshole, and I haven’t learned shit from you; I doubt I ever will.”

  “Watch your goddamn mouth. I’m still your boss.”

  “You were my boss.”

  I tightened my grasp around her wrists and looked directly into her eyes, pressing my chest against her breasts. “Let me tell you what’s about to happen, Aubrey. You’re going to go back to your cubicle and you’re going to stay there until you’re done for the day—only getting up to bring me a new cup of coffee. You will tell your ballet director that you’ll come after you get your work done, and you will not go to Mr. Bach and say anything, because we don’t reassign interns just because they cry.”

  “Then I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She threw my glares right back at me, narrowing her eyes as her chest heaved up and down.

  “Aubrey—”

  “Let me go before I scream, Mr. Hamilton. I wasn’t listening to a thing you just said so I highly suggest—”

  I crashed my lips against hers, effectively making her shut the hell up. I kept my hands tightly clamped around her wrists, pressing her body against the door with my hips.

  She murmured as I slipped my tongue into her mouth, as I bit her bottom lip as hard as I could. Without thinking, I let her hands go and gripped her waist—pulling her taut against me as my hand found its way underneath her skirt.

  I slid my hand across the crotch of her panties, tapping my fingers against the lace, and then I slowly pushed them to the side and plunged a finger deep into her pussy.

  “Ahhh...” she moaned, making me bite her lip again, making me use two fingers instead of one.

  She was wet—soaking wet, and as much as I wanted to fuck her senseless against my door and make her forget her name, I tore my mouth away from her.

  “Get the hell out of my office.”

  “What?” She asked breathlessly, her eyes widening in surprise.

  “Go to your important rehearsal.”

  “Mr. Ham—”

  “Hurry up before I change my mind.” I reached around her and opened the door. “Go.”

  She didn’t hesitate to walk past me, and as soon as she was gone I knew damn well this arrangement wasn’t going to work for too much longer. Either she was going to be reassigned or I was going to have to fire her, fast.

  Hours later, when I was halfway through my work for the day, I noticed I’d received a new text from Alyssa. I rolled my eyes and changed her name to Aubrey before reading it.

  “Where have you been for the past two weeks?” it said. “Are you okay? I’ve called and texted you and you haven’t said anything. I’m really concerned...If you get this, say something, anything. ”

  I didn’t want to respond, but with the taste of her mouth still lingering on my lips, I gave in. “I’m fine. Just made a major discovery not too long ago and I’ve been trying to figure out how to deal with it.”

  “Is it something serious?”

  “VERY serious.”

  “I’m sorry...Want to know something that will make you feel better?”

  “I doubt anything you say can do that right now.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “Try me.”

  “My boss just kissed the shit out of me. I think that’s why he’s so damn mean to me; he wants to fuck me...”

  “I really don’t think your ‘boss’ wants to fuck you...”

  “He definitely does. His cock was rock hard when he was kissing me, and he was biting my lips and gripping me like he wanted to own me... I’ve never been so wet in my life...”

  I hesitated. “How exactly is this supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I was pretending he was you the whole time. I miss you.”

  I immediately turned off my phone. I didn’t know what type of shit she was trying to pull, but I wasn’t falling for it.

  “I was pretending it was you? I miss you?” Bullshit.

  I wasn’t going to answer her calls or her messages for a long time. Sexy ass mouth or not.

  Cross Examination (n.):

  The interrogation of a witness called by one’s opponent.

  Aubrey

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Mr. Hamilton kissed me the other day, the way he pulled me against his chest and fucked my lips with his mouth.

  Thoughts of
him kissing me had been invading my mind all day, and even now, when I was setting down his latest cup of coffee, I was tempted to walk behind his desk and dare him to kiss me again. Ever since I’d become his intern, he’d been quite mean to me—reckless, but I thought it was a training technique, a way to see if I’d quit under pressure.

  Until he kissed me that day.

  There was something intangible in his kiss; unspoken words, a repressed desire. It made me think that the glances he often tossed my way, those looks of scorn that were laced with wanting, meant a little more.

  I placed a plastic stirrer into his cup and cleared my throat. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Hamilton?”

  No answer.

  I stood my ground and waited for him to look up at me; I wanted to see his face.

  The suit he was wearing today—a dark grey three piece with a silver silk tie, made him look even more devastatingly beautiful than he normally did.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Everhart?” He clenched his fists above the desk, trying his best to act like my presence wasn’t bothering him. But it was, I could tell.

  I knew he would look up at any moment, so I stepped back, making sure the light blue dress I wore specifically for him would be in full view, but he kept his gaze lowered.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then get out of my office. I’ll need your Brownstein report with my next cup of coffee. Four o’ clock.”

  “You just gave me that report yesterday. You said I could take all the time I needed.”

  “You must’ve misheard me. You can take all the time you need today. Things change instantly around here, and that’s the exact reason why some of us never leave early. Four o’ clock.”

  I stood there completely speechless. There was no way I’d be able to read and summarize a three hundred paged report by the end of the day.

  “Did you lose some of your hearing between today and yesterday?” He finally looked up, his perfect face expressionless. “I need complete silence when I work and I can’t focus with your heavy breathing.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Get out, finish the report, and bring it back to me with my coffee. If you don’t, you’re fired.”

  I quickly decided that he was bipolar, and that our seemingly connected kiss was just a mistake. I turned around and left his office, rushing straight to the break room.

  There was no way I was going to get that Brownstein report done by the end of the day.

  I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages—realizing that Thoreau hadn’t responded to my morning texts. Sighing, I decided to call him. I needed someone to tell me that my life wouldn’t end today when I was fired.

  It rang once.

  It rang twice.

  It went to voicemail.

  He hit ignore?!

  I sent him a text. “What the hell is wrong with you lately? Is your lack of sex forcing you to act like a jerk toward me? Is the withdrawal THAT BAD? Talk to me.”

  I waited for a response, but none came, so I slumped onto the couch. There was no point in even attempting to finish that report. I was just going to sit here, relax, and when it was five o’ clock I was going to collect all of my things and leave.

  I could find another internship in two weeks, or worst case, ask the department chair if I could shadow my mother and father around their stuffy firm for credit.

  Ugh...God...

  I shut my eyes and lay back against the cushion, wishing I could fall asleep.

  “Aubrey?” Someone shook my shoulder just as I was drifting away.

  “Yes?” I opened my eyes. It was Jessica.

  “I’ve been looking for you forever. Mr. Hamilton wants to speak with you.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “More coffee?”

  “Probably.” She shrugged. “He’s been a bit off lately. Just come on, you don’t want to make him angry.” She held the door open and I stood up, making my way past her.

  I debated whether I should even go to his office. Then again, seeing the look on his face as I said, “Fuck you. I quit.” was too good of an experience to pass up. I forced a smile and knocked on his door.

  “Come in.” His voice was stern.

  I slipped inside, expecting to see him holding an empty coffee cup, but he was sitting at his desk–glaring at me.

  “Have a seat,” he said.

  I sat in front of his desk, waiting for him to scold me about something, to unleash more of his seemingly bipolar tendencies, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at me.

  I hated the effect he was having on my body right now, and as much as I wanted to ask him what the hell he wanted, I couldn’t get my mouth to say a thing.

  Without addressing me, he suddenly stood up and walked around his desk, sitting on the edge of it, letting his knees touch mine.

  “Lawyers are supposed to be people with integrity, are they not?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you have integrity, Miss Everhart?” He emphasized every syllable of my name.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm.” He leaned forward. “So, would you ever willingly withhold the truth from someone you supposedly cared about?”

  “It depends...” My breath hitched in my throat; my heart was racing a mile a minute.

  “It depends?” He sat back a bit. “It depends on what?”

  “If the truth would damage anything or hurt someone unnecessarily, then I believe I have a right to withhold it.”

  “But what if someone blatantly asked you for the truth, several times? What if he said, I want you to tell me the truth no matter how much it hurts, or how angry it may make me?”

  Where is he going with this? “Are you referring to a potential witness changing his testimony on the stand, Mr. Hamilton?”

  “No...” He trailed his fingers across my collarbone, setting my nerves on fire. “This is a personal inquiry. I’m just in need of an outside opinion. Answer the question.”

  “Well, I think—” I sucked in a breath as he placed his hand on my thigh and strummed his fingers against my skirt. “I think certain lies have to be told, and certain truths have to be withheld. The ultimate conviction is up to those who can discern which is which.”

  “So, you believe in reasonable doubt?”

  “In certain cases, yes...”

  “What about in our case?” His hand was slowly slipping underneath my skirt, traveling further and further up my thigh.

  “Our case?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I believe you and I are currently in an unfortunate web of deceit.”

  “No...” I said, breathless and confused. “We’re not in a web of deceit...”

  “We definitely are, Alyssa—" He pulled me forward by the strand of pearls around my neck. "It’s the case of a woman who befriended me online, but she turned out to be someone completely different than who she told me she was. So, in this case—our case, how do you feel about reasonable doubt?”

  Gasping, I could feel all the color draining from my face. My heart wasn’t racing anymore; it was flailing around wildly—ready to jump out of my chest, and my eyes were as wide as they could go.

  “You were very good at covering your tracks for such a long time, so I’ll give you that,” he said. “But I thought we thoroughly discussed how I felt about liars. Did we not?”

  I murmured as he tightened his grip on my pearls, as he pulled me so close that we were lip to lip.

  "Do you plan on answering me, Aubrey? Are you tired of this fucking charade?"

  “I never thought that...” I was stuttering, trying to look away from him, but his grip prevented me from moving. "I am so sorry..."

  He didn't say anything further. He stared into my eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. Then he lowered his voice, and leaned back. "Once someone lies to me they're dead to me forever. Do you remember me saying that?"

  "Yes..."

  "So, you’ve always been willing to lose our friendship over lies?"

  "I never wanted
to meet you in person...”

  “I can see that.” He hissed.

  “If I had known who you really were...” I was breaking down in front of him. This was too much for one day. “I would’ve never—”

  “Save it.” He cut me off. “I’ve heard enough about your thoughts on lying. Seeing as though we don’t share the same views, you’re not worthy of being my intern. You’ll be serving as my secretary’s assistant until further notice.”

  “You’re demoting me?”

  “It’s not a demotion. It’s a way to keep you out of my sight.”

  My heart dropped.

  “Our online relationship—whatever the hell that was anyway,” he said, “is over. I don’t want to hear from you outside of these walls again.”

  “Thoreau...”

  “It’s Mr. Hamilton, Miss Everhart.” He glared at me. “Mr. fucking Hamilton.”

  “You have to believe that I’m sorry...I never thought that this would happen.”

  “Take however much time you need on the Brownstein account.” He disregarded my apology and released his hold on my necklace. “You have until the end of next week. And from now on, you can just set my coffee on my bookcase. I don’t need you coming anywhere near my desk.”

  “Andrew—”

  “We are definitely not on a first name basis. Do not ever call me that.”

  “Just let me explain...”

  “There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me and you no longer exist. Get out. Now.”

  I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I was serious about you being my only friend...Friends are supposed to give each other a chance to make things right. Just let me tell you why I had to lie to you...”

  “I don’t deal with liars. Ever. And seeing that that’s exactly what you are, I don’t care why you felt the need to deceive me. Get out of my office, stay out of my sight as much as possible, and do your damn job.”

  I stood up and looked into his eyes, pleading for him to simply hear me out, to let me explain, but he turned away from me. Then he picked up his phone.

  “Jessica?” he said. “Could you help Miss Everhart find her way out of my office? And could you please have the janitor check my floors for fucking superglue?”