by Elise Noble
The driver leaned over and gave us a knowing wink. “Reckon he might be gay.”
I hastily turned my choke into a cough. “That’s quite an assumption.”
“Temptation throwing itself in his face like that, it’s the only explanation.”
Roy clutched my elbow. “Enough chat. Ready to go?”
Not in a million years.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
I kept my head down as we hurried into the courthouse, but even so, I felt the eyes and cameras of the world’s media upon me. Everyone involved in the case was suffering from its reach, but this time tomorrow, my part would be finished. Done. I clung to that thought as Roy navigated us through corridors, up stairs, and along a hallway. He pushed an unmarked door open.
“Wait in here, please. There are some people I need to talk to.”
“When do I have to go in?”
“Not long now. Someone will fetch you.”
The room was sparsely furnished, just a couple of bare tables and uncomfortable plastic chairs. I perched on the edge of one and forced my fingers to release the end of my ponytail. Part of me wanted to put my appearance off forever, but at the same time, I longed to get it over with so I could carry on with my life. Anything but waiting in this limbo with the clock ticking down.
A few minutes before nine o’clock, the door clicked open. Was this it? Did I need to go in?
“Are you okay, princess?”
Oh, it was Oliver. “I thought you’d be in court by now.”
“I should be, but I wanted to see you first.”
He came closer, and I couldn’t help tucking myself against his chest. I needed to feel his strength one last time before we faced the judge and jury.
“I’m so nervous.”
He gave me a soft kiss on the lips and wrapped me up in his arms.
“I know, Steffie. I know. When you get on the stand, just keep looking at me, okay? Granville will try to intimidate you, but he’s only got words. That’s it. Just words. I’ll do my best to keep his questions to a minimum. Answer honestly, don’t elaborate on anything, and it’ll be over before you know it.”
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
We’d already had our two nights this week, but I needed him. I always swore I wouldn’t become that girl, the one dependant on a man, but tonight I didn’t want to be alone.
“Of course, princess.” He paused a second, then reached for his briefcase on the nearby table and pulled out a key. “Take this. Let yourself in, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
A key to his apartment? Yes, it was only for today, but he’d never done that before. Did it mean anything? I didn’t dare to hope.
“Thank you.”
He hugged me to him once more and pressed his lips to mine. One last kiss before the nightmare began.
Only it started early.
The door opened behind me, and Oliver looked up sharply. I couldn’t see who’d come in, but from the way Oliver’s eyes widened infinitesimally, it wasn’t good news.
“Rhodes. Hardly appropriate to be entertaining ladies before court, is it?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Morning, Granville,” Oliver said.
Oh, shit! Of all the people to walk in, it had to be the damn defence lawyer. Now what? I tried to pull back, but Oliver held me where I was, squashed against his chest, and when I glanced up, I saw him smirk.
“I can’t help it if the ladies downstairs find me irresistible.”
A chuckle came from behind me. “I’d always assumed you were gay.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“The usher’s looking for the first witness. Don’t suppose you’ve seen her anywhere?”
“I’d suggest trying the ladies’ room.”
“I’ll tell her that. Hurry up, would you? This case has dragged on for long enough.”
The door clicked closed, and I started shaking.
“Now what? Granville saw us together. What if the case falls apart and you get disciplined?”
Oliver gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. “Fuck. This isn’t good.” His eyes popped open again. “He only saw you from the back. Take your jacket off. You’ll look different with only the blouse on.”
I wrenched my arms from the sleeves and stuffed the ugly garment into Oliver’s briefcase as he grabbed my ponytail and pulled the elastic out of it.
“And wear your hair loose. With any luck, he won’t recognise you.”
“What if he does? What if he realises?”
“Keep your fingers crossed and deny everything.”
CHAPTER 32
OLIVER STRAIGHTENED HIS tie and picked up his briefcase.
“Wait!”
I wiped my lip gloss off his face. Watermelon pink wasn’t a good look on him.
“Thanks.”
Then he was gone, and I shot along the corridor to the nearest ladies’ room to do the rest of my panicking there. According to Oliver, I was the last witness for the prosecution. What if I screwed everything up? What if Carter’s insanity defence succeeded and it was all my fault?
I wiped my nose and blotted my eyes just in time for a lady to call my name.
“Stefanie Amor?”
“In here.”
“You need to hurry up, darlin’. They’re waitin’ for ya.”
“I’ll be right out.”
Now I understood how prisoners on death row felt, walking to their execution. Actually, maybe not. At least they got a decent meal first, whereas I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. My hideous shoes squeaked on the tile, the noise eclipsed only by the blood whooshing in my ears as my heart worked overtime.
Beside me, the usher pushed the door open, and I got my first look at the courtroom.
The public gallery was full to bursting, and all heads turned towards me as I shuffled to the front. The judge was already seated, and to his left, a twelve-person jury gawked in my direction. Oliver may have practised asking me a hundred questions, but nothing could have prepared me for this. Tension hung thick in the air as I looked towards the two tables before the judge.
Oliver turned from his seat, the one nearest the jury, with Roy at his side. I longed for a smile, but I didn’t get it. Of course not. Oliver was far better at hiding his emotions than me, and his face was perfectly blank.
The usher led me towards the witness stand, which was next to the defence table, and then my day got worse.
First Carter turned to stare at me, and when I say stare, I mean stare. His clear blue eyes locked onto mine until I tore my gaze away. And do you know what scared me most? He didn’t look like a monster, the kind you imagine under the bed as a child. He was a man. A plain, ordinary man. And a killer. If ever there was a reminder that the escort business was bad for your health, he was it.
Then the man next to him swivelled in my direction, and honestly, I thought I’d have a heart attack. Mortimer Granville, I presumed, but that’s not what I knew him as.
No, on my weekly visits to the illustrious defence lawyer, the one who Dan called a jackal and a vulture, I’d only ever called him Timmy.
He called me Mom.
It had started out as a favour for Octavia, not something through Rubies. A friend of hers had a girl go sick, and knowing I’d do the weird stuff if it didn’t involve a cock in the wrong place, she’d given me a call.
“It’s a straightforward job. The guy’s a fruitcake, but he won’t hurt you. He likes to play dress-up and suck on your tits; then you give him a hand job and tuck him into bed.”
“So what should I wear?”
“Something demure. Plain white underwear.”
The clothes I’d worn to court, in fact. The skirt and blouse were both leftovers from my time with Timmy.
Shit, shit, shit.
Because what Octavia hadn’t mentioned in that initial conversation was that Timmy liked to dress as a baby. I’d nearly had a freaking heart attack when he open
ed the door to me in a diaper, but the money was good and, like Octavia said, he was harmless.
And when he asked for me again the next Friday, and the one after that, I took his fifteen hundred dollars and spanked his pasty ass.
But now here I was, stuck in the most serious situation of my life, about to be questioned on the sexual preferences of a murderer by the man I was secretly sleeping with and the overgrown child whose diapers I used to change. You couldn’t make it up.
And by the look of him, Mortimer Granville realised the horror of what was to come about the same time I did. He might have been wearing a fancy suit today, but his eyes were those of a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The usher gently tugged on my arm.
“Come on, darlin’. It’ll be done before you know it.”
I prayed for divine intervention as I stepped into the witness box—an earthquake, a tornado, something like that—but nobody up there listened.
Instead, the clerk stepped forwards. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“Yes,” I whispered, only the microphone in front of me amplified my voice and made me jump.
Oliver stood up and shuffled his papers, and I forced myself to let go of my hair. What should I do? Should I say something? Oliver told me witness/lawyer relations were banned, and let’s face it, it would be hard to get less appropriate than powdering the defence lawyer’s ass.
But the room was full of people, and I’d rather have shot myself right then than admit to them what I did. And what would Oliver think? I’d never mentioned Timmy to him, seeing as he was a private client and had nothing to do with Rubies or Carter. Or so I’d thought.
The judge’s booming voice interrupted my thoughts. “Miss Amor? Are you with us?”
“Sorry?”
“Would you like me to repeat the question?” Oliver asked.
“Yes, please.”
And so it began. I remembered Oliver’s words and focused on him as he took me through my night with Carter once more, and by concentrating on his lips, I managed to block out the rest of the courtroom and imagine we were back in his study, just the two of us.
Oliver had warned me of Timmy’s penchant for interrupting, and he tried once or twice at the beginning, full of bluster and unable to look me in the eye. But Oliver cut him down, and I stared straight at Timmy, daring him to try again, and after that, the man-child didn’t say another word. On a couple of occasions, I caught Oliver glancing over to the defence table as if he expected a comment, but nothing came. Even Carter seemed confused.
“So, in your opinion, is Mr. Carter a rational human being?” Oliver asked.
“From what I saw, he’s as sane as you or I.” I glanced over at the defence table, wondering why Timmy hadn’t stopped this. Oliver had told me to expect the question, but he also said Timmy wouldn’t allow it. “Or Mr. Granville here.”
Finally, a weak, “Objection. The witness is not a psychiatrist.”
Oliver grinned. “Withdrawn.”
He returned to his seat, and the judge turned his attention to Timmy, who looked a little unwell. His colour had dropped several shades since I first saw him, and beads of sweat ran down his brow. He wiped them away with a sleeve.
“Your witness, Mr. Granville.”
“Er, yes. Of course.”
He stood and began pacing in front of the judge, and I watched every step. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
I risked a glance over to Oliver. He was tracking Timmy with his brow furrowed, and I wished I could tell him what was going on.
Then Timmy stopped right in front of me. “Miss Amor, you say you only spent one night with the defendant?”
He locked his eyes on mine in an attempt at intimidation, but it was hard to be intimidated by a man when I knew firstly, that he had a four-inch dick, and secondly, he needed pharmaceutical help to get it up. I used to crush his little blue pills and mix them into his bottle of warm milk.
“That’s true.”
“I put it to you that it’s not possible to tell much about a man in such a short period of time.”
“On the contrary. I learned to judge men quickly, and Mr. Carter didn’t give me any cause for alarm.”
“But you have no professional training in psychology?”
“True, but my profession taught me a lot. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me a man who likes to wear diapers isn’t entirely normal. For example.”
Sniggers ran around the courtroom, and the judge called for order. Timmy turned an alarming shade of puce.
“Motion to dismiss that last answer,” Timmy mumbled. “It’s irrelevant.”
“Upheld,” the judge said. “Do you have any more questions, Mr. Granville?”
“I’m done.”
That was it? Really? I fought to avoid grinning.
“Mr. Rhodes?”
Oliver gave a tiny one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t have anything else.”
“In that case, Miss Amor, you’re free to leave.”
I walked out of the courtroom, and as soon as the door closed behind me, I broke into a run. I had to get out of there. The key to Oliver’s apartment burned away in my pocket as I scurried out the front door, remembering too late about the media camped outside. Dammit. Dammit! Flashes burned my retinas as I scoured the road for a cab. Nothing.
That momentary hesitation was my undoing. Paparazzi came at me in a horde, and I didn’t know whether to back up the steps or sprint down the road. They yelled my name, and I covered my face with my hands. All that time I’d spent avoiding publicity, and I’d ruined it in a moment of gross stupidity.
Good going, Sable.
Then a limo pulled up and the driver wound down his window. “Stefanie?”
I nodded.
“Dan sent me. She thought you might need a fast getaway.”
I practically dived into the back while saying a silent thank you to Dan. She’d proven once more that she was a true friend.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
I gave Oliver’s address and sank back in the leather seat. I needed to get to my sanctuary, and right now, that sanctuary was a penthouse in downtown Richmond where a mercurial lawyer liked to do bad things to me.
Oliver arrived just after six, slamming the front door behind him. Bridget, who’d thawed out markedly over the last few weeks, had left me with a plate of chocolate éclairs and another weird fruit concoction, and I licked cream off my fingers as Oliver strode into the kitchen.
“You want to tell me what happened in court this morning?”
He dumped his briefcase onto the breakfast bar and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I did.”
“Try me. I’ve never seen Granville at a loss like that, and I’m not convinced it was because he recognised you.”
“Oh, he recognised me all right, but not from the clinch this morning. The last time I saw him, he was sleeping in an oversized crib and sucking on a pacifier.”
“Come again?”
I recounted the whole story, from the nursery hidden behind the bookcase in Timmy’s study to the way I had to burp him, the musical mobile over the pillow, and Timmy’s favourite toy unicorn. Oliver actually wiped away tears at the end, he laughed so hard.
“Fuck me. I thought my sexual tastes were unusual, but at least when I suck your tits, it’s not for nutritional purposes.”
“It’s not funny,” I tried to say, but I couldn’t stop giggling.
“Steffie, it’s fucking hilarious. But I have no idea how I’m going to look Morty Granville in the eye in court tomorrow.”
“I can’t help you there.”
“Maybe you can help with something else?” He took both my hands in his and twined our fingers together. “Like distraction.”
I stood on tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. “I’d be only too happy to assist.”
CHAPTER 33
/> TWO WEEKS LATER, Oliver walked into his apartment and dropped his briefcase in the hallway. He’d told me to keep the key so I could get there early on the days I was due to see him, and I tended to take advantage of his comfy sofa and giant TV.
“It’s over.”
I scrambled up, rushed across the room, and flung my arms around him. “The jury’s out?”
“As of four o’clock.”
He’d already told me this was the part he hated most, that period between the summing up and the verdict where everything was out of his control and all we could do was wait.
“Did it go okay?”
“I think so. I hope so. Granville lost a bit of his fire after your testimony, and I’d already argued a lot of his points down. But juries are fickle. Put twelve people together in a situation like that, and they sometimes do unexpected things.”
I gave Oliver a quick kiss, which turned into something longer as he pressed me up against the wall, and by the time he moved back, I’d lost my appetite for food.
“Do you want dinner now or later?” I asked. “Giovanni’s on standby downstairs.”
“Later. First, I need to lose myself in you, princess.”
“You can do that all night.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. “Will you stay longer? Until the verdict comes through? I know I’ve got no right to ask, but…”
“I’ll stay.”
And I found myself wishing the jury would take a very long time indeed to make their decision.
Like with so many things in life, I didn’t get my wish. The call came two days later. Two days of lazing around in Oliver’s apartment, pretending I didn’t have to leave. Pretending that somehow, despite everything, I could have a normal life with the man I’d fallen in love with.
Because that’s what had happened. Nothing about my relationship with Oliver Rhodes followed convention, but I loved him anyway. From his bossy manner in bed and the way he pushed my boundaries, to his warmth next to me on the sofa as he watched a movie he didn’t like because I wanted to, and the rise and fall of his chest as he fell asleep during it.
His public persona, the confident lawyer, bordering on arrogant, wasn’t the man I’d grown to know. The one I wanted to keep, but understood I never could.
