desire for Bliss: a novel of Sex, Mystery and Romance (RiverHart Book 2)

by Adira August

  Interesting. Why would the defense try and rattle her? She wasn't even on the witness list.

  Weigand, Shore & Jackson

  "So, how did she seem?" Raina Jackson asked when Preston Shore returned to the defense table.

  "Unflappable," he replied.

  "That's not good," Raina said sotto voce, wanting to keep Dave Weigand in the dark about the strategy she and Shore had developed.

  "That's how she seemed," he said. "She has control, that's a fact. Externally."

  He sat down and arranged his pads and file folders, closing his briefcase. "But everyone feels, Raina, whether they repress it or not. Everyone our investigator talked to says Rivers is modest, self-contained, private. One guy who used to work with her called her Frigidaire. I think arrogant, entitled bitch was also in his description."

  Raina sat next to him, ordering the jury pool reports alphabetically. "That doesn't sound any better for us."

  "That's the exterior. I just told a woman known to value her privacy and characterized by her modesty that I was imagining her having sex and her sex toy king source records every meeting. If he did her, she can't help but believe I know. The last person she's going to want sneering at her on the stand, is me."

  The bailiff escorted the defendant inside and to the defense table. Dougal Madigan was as subdued as a former middleweight contender turned local politician could be in a gray suit and blue tie. Now white-haired, his former boyish freckles had turned him into a red-faced rooster of a man.

  As subdued as he could be meant waving at people in the spectator section, and blowing a kiss to a woman in the third row. She giggled. She must have been sixty.

  He sat between Weigand, in first chair, and Shore. Criminal law wasn't Weigand's métier. He was here to babysit Madigan and lend the weight of his (meaning his father's) reputation to the proceedings. Preston Shore was present to win the case.

  The bailiff announced the arrival of Judge Diamond and all stood.

  Shore leaned over to Raina while he settled himself on the bench.

  "Shall we drop a house on Avia Rivers?" he whispered. Raina Jackson gave a thumbs-up below the tabletop.

  Judge Kenilworth Ambrose Diamond III, told everyone to be seated and explained procedure and admonished respect and quiet.

  Even though he had an almost laughable mouthful of old family syllables for a name, Avia knew Diamond had a reputation as a good judge who brooked no nonsense in his courtroom and kept a firm hold on proceedings. He had allowed a closed-circuit feed to simulcast on the local government cable channel so that live news coverage wouldn't disrupt the business of the court. He refused to hear arguments from NBC.

  He read the case into the record and the attorneys entered their appearances. The press had a handout with this information, so everyone's name was spelled correctly and the charges were reported accurately. After that, the public was on it's own trying to decipher which news outlet was bringing them the most factual report.

  Avia had not found the public, in general, all that interested in accuracy, if entertainment could be had, instead. But her cynicism was dampened when the interest level in The Week's overage outsripped the nearest competitor 2-to-1.

  It was Avia, herself, being the one who broke the story and was now reporting it, they wanted to hear from. It was Avia they trusted.

  "Alright, everyone, are there motions before I bring in the potential jurors?" Judge Diamond asked.

  Both sides had motions, and after hearing and ruling on points of law, which mostly consisted of the judge refusing to throw out evidence from a warrant the defense said was invalid due to a clerical error. Preston Shore accepted defeat with good grace, then moved that the witnesses be sequestered during all proceedings, including voir dire of potential jurors.

  Diamond looked at the prosecutor. She shrugged. It was a standard motion, though usually not made until a day when the witnesses were present to testify. With a week's worth of jury selection ahead of them, neither side had called witnesses for that day.

  With no objection from the prosecution, who would have made the motion later on themselves if defense did not, the judge granted the motion without much thought. Diamond asked any witnesses in the trial to leave the room.

  No one moved.

  Avia was writing rapidly in shorthand in her notebook. She wasn't surprised there were no witnesses present. She'd been in court before.

  A young man approached, squatting next to her in the aisle.

  "Avia Rivers?" he asked quietly.

  She nodded, trying to stay focused on the proceedings. He held out a white envelope. "I was asked to give you this." She took it from him.

  "You've been served," he said and hurried away.

  What?

  Diamond asked the bailiff to bring in the first group of jury candidates.

  Shore objected. "I'm sorry, Judge, but one of the witnesses hasn't left the room. Avienne Grace Rivers is sitting in the last seat in the third row of the press section."

  Natani rose from her seat. "The prosecution will not be calling Ms. Rivers."

  "The defense will," Shore said in a clear voice that reached every single member of the press corps.

  Judge Diamond and Diane Natani grabbed their updated witness lists simultaneously, flipping through the pages to the "R" names. They craned their necks at almost the exact same moment to look for Avia.

  "Are you Avienne Grace Rivers?" Diamond asked.

  Avia stood slowly. "Yes, Judge. I'm sorry, I just received this." She held up the subpoena she'd pulled from the envelope.

  "The bailiff will escort you out," he said, looking as stern as Ben in Dom mode.

  Her face flamed. She felt every person in the room staring at her. Most especially, all the other reporters. She could almost feel their smug gloating on her skin like milk coating a glass.

  She grabbed her coat and bag and followed the uniformed court officer to the door. Another bailiff held the door open for her to walk through. And closed it firmly behind her.

  Avia found herself in the hall, empty but for a middle-aged woman on a bench reading what looked like official papers of some kind, frowning and mumbling to herself.

  What the fuck just happened?

  J.J. and Carson

  Avia hung around outside the courtroom for ninety minutes, waiting for the cavalry to arrive. She called Talli and told her what was happening and said she didn't know if it would make their lunch earlier or later.

  She texted Ben, but told him not to worry about it, it was just an FYI text. She wrote an account of the eviction in her notebook. Then she waited. The mumbling woman left and Avia sat alone at the end of the long corridor thinking about what had happened and why.

  The judge called the mid-morning recess and the spectators streamed out for bathrooms and coffee machines when Avia spotted J.J.'s long black hair flying through the crowd toward her.

  Avia's good friend and racquetball partner, Carson Sanchez was next to her, striding up the corridor carrying a messenger bag. Carson was the webmaster for The Week, which made him the highest-paid person on the staff of the internet-based national magazine.

  J.J. spotted Avia at the same time and stopped, motioning her toward an empty courtroom. The three met inside, J.J. closing the door behind them. Carson gave Avia a brief hug.

  "You shouldn't be here," she told him. "Who's minding the Internet?"

  "Assange," he answered. "If you mean who's minding the website, I have to trust my idiot assistant at some point or I never will get a vacation." He slid onto the nearest bench and pulled a notebook computer from the bag along with a headset.

  J.J. looked around the empty courtroom, making sure the door to the judge's chambers was closed and they would not be overheard. She and Avia took seats in the row in front of Carson, who was fiddling with a program.

  "Let me see the subpoena," she said. "What do you think the defense is trying to accomplish, getting you kicked out of the courtroom?" J.J. asked, taking the e
nvelope Avia held out. "Do you think they're going to call you?"

  Avia shook her head. "I've been going over it and over it, waiting for you. It could just be Madigan's pissed about the whole thing and wants to screw with me and is doing it through his lawyers. But that's least likely. It could be he thinks the prosecution's keeping me in reserve for rebuttal and he wants to call me first and try and discredit me with the jury. That's likelier."

  "But how can he discredit you?" J.J. asked.

  "I don't know," Avia answered. "But he made some … innuendoes, I guess you'd say. J.J., what could Ben Hart have to do with this case?"

  Janet frowned. "He mentioned him by name?"

  "Yeah. I think he was hinting I was sleeping with him." Avia shrugged. "Or that he could imply that to the jury."

  "You're single woman, he's a single man. Moral turpitude won't sway many jurors in this day and age," Janet said. "Besides, you aren't."

  Avia just looked at her. Carson raised his head. Avia blushed. "Oh, nice catch," Carson said admiringly.

  J.J.'s mouth tightened into a thin line. "Carson, see if you can find any connection whatsoever between Ben Hart and this case." She stood up and looked down at Avia.

  "Carson will be in the courtroom recording everything and send it to your laptop. You can monitor from the hallway and try for some interviews. Get color, at least."

  "But - what about being sequestered?" Avia asked. "Diamond isn't too happy with me as it is," she said.

  "According to legal, unless he prohibited you, personally, from watching cable or other electronic coverage, you only have to comply with not being in the courtroom."

  "Watching the proceedings, no matter where, is being in the courtroom," Avia said.

  "Are you refusing to do your job?" J.J. asked coldly.

  Avia felt like she'd been slapped. J.J. was her best friend. "I'm just refusing to violate the order of the Court."

  She kept her voice reasonable, though she felt like shouting. "There're other writers for the courtroom stuff. I'm a feature writer, my name can still be all over the story in opinion and color pieces."

  "So you are refusing?"

  "I'm willing to go to jail to protect a source, J.J., but not to write a story any one of three other people on staff can handle." Avia couldn't believe this conversation was happening.

  "You don't think all the other witnesses are at home watching the cable feed?" J.J. asked acidly.

  "All the other witnesses aren't going to write about it publicly and sign their names, basically confessing they've violated the Court's orders," Avia said with some heat.

  "They aren't watching. Not anymore, anyway," Carson said looking at his screen. "The judge cut the feed when the witnesses were sequestered. … Right after Avia left, in fact."

  "But, he must have known one side or the other would move to have the witnesses removed, they always do for a big trial." Avia said.

  "Yeah. No wonder he wouldn't talk to NBC, he just didn't want it televised at all. Smart judge," Carson said.

  "Great," J.J. said bitterly. "So now we have no trial coverage at all. Carson, you need to get inside."

  "And you," she turned on Avia, "Need to get off your high horse. Carson will show you how to access his feed. Once it's set up, I'll get an intern to sit in the courtroom and handle the laptop for the rest of the month."

  "Not unless legal gets an okay from Diamond. And they won't."

  Janet Johnson considered her award-winning writer for a long moment. "You remember a couple days ago telling me you'd have three better-paying offers in an hour if I fired you?"

  "J.J. …?" Carson stood up. "Take a breath."

  She ignored him. "Good luck with that," she said to Avia. "You're fired."

  Noon

  Eustace sent the elevator back to the penthouse set on stand-by after he took Avia downstairs.

  Later, having gotten her sister's call and dressed, Talia was able to simply step on and push "P" to be taken to the parking level. Indeed, "P" was the only button she could push, 1-5 having been deactivated.

  She found the short stairway to street level and set out to walk to the courthouse. The directions were simple enough and she felt wonderful in the gorgeous outfit Avia'd picked out for her: the little black suit with the asymmetrical jacket, which also had a thin red leather belt.

  She by-passed the ballet slippers for a simple pair of red Aquitalia suede pumps. She found a slim crossbody bag in red that was more a large leather pocket on a strap, but it held her cell and lip gloss and a few tissues.

  She'd put her hair up in a sleek bun, and carefully arranged her waves around her face, wanting to look worthy of the outfit. She'd never before had clothes she wanted to get a new hairstyle for.

  Avia just grabbed a coffee brown midi skirt and a cream sweater with slash sleeves and a matching crushed leather belt. She probably didn't even notice the sweater was cashmere.

  Then she'd stepped into into her everyday pumps ("They're comfortable!") and her old jacket and run a fast comb through her hair. No make-up. But she still walked out looking every inch the billionaire's girlfriend.

  Talia might know style, but Avia had presence. Talia wasn't jealous, even though when they were together, the identical twin thing didn't stop all men from looking at Avia first. Avia never noticed.

  So it was nice for Talia, as she strolled along the sidewalk looking into store windows, to be garnering more than a few admiring glances. She was still completely smitten with her Rolly, but it wasn't bad for a woman's ego to feel admired. Especially when she was a mother of two and usually found in stained sweats and old sneakers.

  She thought of Roland, who would be here Wednesday night. They hadn't had a night away from the children since they were born. She wondered if Hart's largesse had extended to a few nightgowns and lingerie Avia would part with. The thought brought a smile to her face as she reached the courthouse and stopped near the freeform sculpture to text Avi that she'd arrived.

  She got a return text directing her to a room on the 5th floor. A few minutes later, she stepped off the elevator and was making her way up the hall, checking doors for room numbers. Ahead of her on the right, a petite woman seemed to be holding her own in a heated, whispered, exchange with a large, florid man in a three-piece suit who loomed over her.

  Talia moved out into the hall to give them a wide berth, when the man suddenly stalked away, stepping right into her path. She stumbled to a halt before she ran into him and watched him stomp away toward the elevators.

  "Well, well, Ms. Rivers, how nice to see you," a woman's voice said from behind.

  Talia turned to explain to whoever that she was Avia's twin, and found the petite woman, dressed almost as well as she, sneering at her. Sneering?

  Well, she'd played this game before, though not for a while. Talia looked the woman up and down, striving for haughty and amused. That usually heated them right up. Seemed to work.

  "Too good to talk to the ex, now, are we?" The woman asked. "I met a friend of yours, today. Though, I guess he's not much of a friend anymore, since you got him fired."

  The woman grinned in a way that made Talia's skin crawl. "Oh? Remind me, there've been so many," she said.

  "I don't doubt it," said her adversary. "He's freelancing and I just offered him something very juicy about you. You seem to be the big story these days, there's even Pulitzer talk. I wonder what the talk will be when the internet finds out you're fucking the pervert billionaire?"

  The woman gave Talia a smug smile and sauntered away. Talia took out her cell and started recording. "Thanks for the heads up!" she called after the woman, who turned one more time and shot Talia the finger. Perfect face shot, Talia thought.

  She hurried away to find Avia. It sounded like the sky was falling directly on her sister's head.

  She found Avia in a large empty courtroom, eyes red, twisting a clump of damp tissues in her hands. They hugged each other wordlessly for a long time.

  "C'mon," Talia
said. "Let's go back to the hotel."

  Avia shook her head and blew her nose one more time. "No, you look like an ad for chic. Let's go have lunch someplace we can't afford."

  Avie texted Eustace. He was waiting outside the door when they stepped into the corridor.

  "Are you ready for lunch, Ms. Rivers?" He asked, ignoring her tear-stained face and red-rimmed eyes.

  "We are," she said. "How about Felicity Cafe?" It was upscale, but wouldn't empty her bank account.

  "If you wish. But Mr. Hart arranged for Les Cousins to hold a table for you, if you'd prefer."

  "Of course he did," Avia said, fresh tears falling. Always so thoughtful. She was overwhelmed by so many events, but her desire to see him, be in his arms, was the most powerful feeling of all.

  The S.U.V. was waiting at the curb under a large sign with red lettering that said:

  "NO STOPPING EVEN FOR A SECOND OR WE WILL TOW YOUR VEHICLE TO THE CRUSHER WITH YOU IN IT AND RETURN IT TO YOUR ESTATE IN A SHOEBOX."

  Or something similar.

  Eustace held the door for the women, offering a helping hand to each. Once he'd settled them in, he went around and got into the driver's seat. Avia was vaguely aware another driver had gotten out, but was too distracted to notice anything about them.

  As they moved into traffic, Avia lowered the privacy screen. "You're keeping Mr. Hart updated, aren't you, Hank?"

  "I am," he said, not missing a beat at her use of his nickname.

  "Okay," she said. "I'm going to leave the screen open, I don't want to have to repeat this."

  Avia filled Talli in on events. She tried to be detailed so she wouldn't be questioned. Reluctantly, as Avia had enough on her mind, Talia told her about the encounter with the woman in the hallway. She showed Avia the video on her cell.

  "Irene Mackin," she said. Eustace' eyes met hers in the rearview. But he didn't speak. "And Spider Dwyer it sounds like."

  "Mickey and Mallory?" Talia suggested.

  "Creepy and Crawly, at least," Avia said.