Seducing the Defendant

by Chantal Fernando

  Faye Black is a force to be reckoned with. I’ve never met her personally, but every time I ask someone about her, they visibly cringe. Apparently she’s a pain in the ass, and not someone one would want as an enemy. Not only is she a lawyer, she has ties to the feds and is married to the former Wind Dragons president before he stepped down.

  I wish Valentina would just talk to me though, so I can ask her more about Darren. I have nothing. Scarlett never reported the abuse to the police, and with Darren being one of them, I can understand why. The hospital didn’t have any records to help, either. Quite frankly, I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. If I were to prove Scarlett was an abused woman, the prosecution could then argue that she killed him as revenge. It gives her a motive and could actually play against her. The only thing that’ll save her now will be finding out who actually did kill Darren.

  When she told me about the abuse, she couldn’t even look at me. That hit me, hard. It explains the coldness that comes off her, and also why she recoils to touch, something someone else might not think anything of. It killed me to see her flinch when I led her out with my hand on her back. I didn’t mean anything by it, but I won’t do it again. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in any way. It’s clear she’s been through a lot. So far, everything she’s said has been the truth. Demon confirmed that Darren was abusive and corrupt, so even though I’m still working on proving it, I know that to be the truth. The way Scarlett behaves is a huge indicator. She’s very standoffish, and clearly isn’t comfortable with certain things that wouldn’t phase others. And now with the way Valentina and the Wind Dragons are acting . . . Something isn’t right.

  I believe Scarlett, and in my gut I truly don’t think she did this.

  Now I just have to prove it.

  I LIFT MY HEAD as someone knocks on my door. “Come in.”

  “Hey,” Hunter says, closing the door behind him and taking a seat. My gaze goes straight to the artwork on his forearm, since his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He’s the only lawyer I’ve ever met who is covered in tattoos. I’ve seen him cover them up before when he’s meeting with a client or in court, but most days they’re on display. No one in the firm cares, but I know other places that would. All I care is that he’s one of the best family lawyers I’ve come across. It’s why Tristan and I enticed him to join our firm. We needed a good family-law attorney to round out our practice, and he was our first choice.

  “I’ve been looking into this property stuff for you. It looks like Darren forged Scarlett’s signature, or he might have even brought someone in with him to pretend to be Scarlett, and gotten her to sign,” he explains.

  My jaw goes tight. “What can we do?”

  “Well, we can prove it wasn’t her signature by doing a comparison between the real and the fake, and then we can start working to get everything back into her name. But because they were married, everything he owns will revert back to her anyway. He didn’t have a will; I looked into it. Apparently he thought he was so untouchable even death wouldn’t come after him. So I’ll just file the paperwork with the court to get everything put back in her name.”

  “Thank you, Hunter. What did I do before you joined the firm?” I ask him, stretching my neck from side to side.

  “Your own work?” he jokes, blue eyes full of amusement.

  My lip twitches. “How are you liking it here so far?”

  He tilts his head to the side, considering. “I love it here, to be honest. I have the freedom to work on my own time and schedule, and the receptionist wears stripper heels.”

  I chuckle at his description of Yvonne. “Be careful. She won’t hesitate to stab you in the eye with one if you piss her off.”

  “Oh, I know.” He smirks, then sighs. “Anyway, I’ll let you know if I have any updates on the case.”

  “Thanks. This one just keeps getting deeper and deeper, doesn’t it?”

  “Looks like it,” he murmurs, then smirks at me. “But at least you get to look at Scarlett Reyes all day while you’re working on it.”

  He sees the look on my face, which I’m sure is extremely unimpressed, and laughs. “What? You have to concentrate on the pros. Anyway, leave this with me; I’ll handle it. It looks like your plate is full right now.”

  “Thanks, man,” I tell him, meaning it. We have a support system here, and help is always available when needed. “I appreciate it. I promise to be your lawyer when a woman finally sues you for sexual harassment and you’re looking at doing time.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, not missing a beat. He glances at his watch. “Want to head out for lunch? There’s this new place that just opened around the corner I want to check out.”

  My stomach rumbles just as he says that. “Sounds good actually.”

  I pack up my things on my desk, placing the paperwork and file neatly on the right-hand corner, then stand and walk out of the building with Hunter. When we stop at a bar called Riley’s, I come to a standstill. “This is a bar.”

  “I know.” Hunter grins, opening the door and stepping inside. I follow him, glancing around. “When you said new spot, I assumed you meant a lunch spot. I’m not on the same liquid diet you are, Hunter.”

  “I’m sure they have pub food here.” He shrugs, then sits down at the bar. He grabs a menu and hands it to me. “See? They have food. And beer. Lots of beer.”

  “How did I hire a functioning alcoholic?” I ask myself, glancing over the menu.

  A pretty brunette walks out from the back, a red bandanna wrapped around her hair. “What can I get for you?” she asks, while Hunter’s head snaps up at the sound of her voice.

  “Hello there,” he says to her with a smile. “Knew I wanted to check this place out for a reason.”

  “That reason better be a beer and a meal,” she tells him, brow arched. “Because that’s all that’s on offer. For you, anyway.”

  I can’t help the laughter that spills out of me. “Could I please order the steak?”

  “Sure,” she says, pulling out a mini notepad from her pocket. “How would you like it?”

  “Medium rare, please, and with pepper mushroom sauce.”

  “Perfect. Fries or mashed potatoes?”

  “Fries,” I tell her, then glance at Hunter. “What do you want?”

  “Just a beer, please, darlin’,” he says to her, not at all phased by her recent rejection. In fact, he seems to enjoy the sassier, bolder women. It’s like they amuse him to no end, no matter how mean they are.

  “Gotcha,” she says, then disappears into the back once more.

  “Fuck, she’s hot,” Hunter exclaims, running his hand down his beard. “She wants me.”

  “Seriously?” I repeat, shaking my head at him. “Something’s wrong with you, you know that?”

  “Yes,” he states, pointing to where the woman disappeared to. “And that something is that she isn’t mine yet.”

  “Hunter—”

  “This place is going to be our new local,” he declares, rubbing his hands together with glee.

  “If this place is our new local, you’re going to have to stick to your ‘don’t shit where you eat’ motto,” I point out.

  “That motto isn’t compulsory. Come on, it’s a pretty sweet setup. It has a pool table, the menu looks good, and lots of alcoholic beverages to try.” He grins. “And the waitress is a fucking babe.”

  “Actually, I’m the owner,” the woman says as she moves back in front of us. She looks to me and says, “I’m Riley.”

  Riley’s.

  This really is her place.

  “Jaxon,” I say, offering her my hand. She takes it and gives it a quick shake.

  Hunter’s eyes widen. I can tell he’s liking her more and more with each second that passes. “I’m Hunter,” he says, kissing her hand. “We work down the road, at the Bentley and Chann
ing law firm.”

  “Appropriate name,” she replies, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand away. She pours him his beer and slides it over to him. “Never seen a lawyer covered in tattoos before.”

  “I’m one of a kind,” he smoothly replies.

  “Probably a good thing,” Riley tells him with a smirk, then disappears again.

  “Probably is a good thing,” I agree, grabbing his untouched beer and taking a sip. “Changed my mind. Maybe I will have a beer.”

  Hunter sighs and looks for Riley to order a replacement.

  A man suddenly comes into the bar and glances around. “Is the owner here? I’m late for work and she’s a she-devil.”

  I nod. “She’s in the back.”

  “Fuck me dead,” he groans, slowly walking out the back, accepting his fate.

  Riley walks out again and almost bumps into him. “Preston, you’re late.”

  “I know,” he tells her. “It’s a long story. One I’m sure you don’t have time for, so I won’t bother explaining.”

  She sighs, her hand on her hip. “How the fuck are you the best bartender in town?”

  “I have skills,” Preston replies with a smirk. “In the bar and in the bedroom. And I’m a mixologist, not a bartender. Don’t make me sound average.”

  “Don’t be late again, Preston. Fancy bar skills or not, I’ll fire you without hesitation,” Riley tells him, ignoring his rant.

  “Noted,” Preston grumbles.

  She leaves, and he turns to us. “See? She-devil.”

  “I can hear you, asshole!” Riley calls out from the back.

  Hunter and I share a glance and then start laughing.

  “If you can hear from back there, can you get me another beer?” Hunter calls out to her.

  And that’s how Riley’s became our new place.

  chapter 8

  Scarlett

  “I DEFINITELY DIDN’T SIGN ANYTHING,” I tell Jaxon, exhaling slowly. “Why would I sign over my legacy to him? I can’t believe he did all of this.”

  “My associate is taking care of everything,” he assures me, leaning back in his chair, gray eyes pinned on me. “Everything will revert back to your name, so don’t stress. The money will all go back to you once the accounts are unfrozen too, it’s just a matter of time.”

  He’s in another navy suit today, and I wonder if that’s his favorite color. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt underneath, and I can’t help but notice his smooth skin peeking out beneath the two undone buttons.

  “Okay,” I reply, crossing my legs and running my hand down my beige pencil skirt. “I guess I won’t need money and houses if I’m going to prison anyway, right? Will you send me cigarettes so I can trade them for security?”

  Jaxon arches a brow. “Have you been watching prison movies?”

  “Consider it studying for my potential new life,” I reply in a dry tone, letting my head fall back before composing myself. “It’s hard not to think of it when it’s a possibility, you know?”

  He reaches out his hand to touch me but then pulls it away. I think he’s a naturally affectionate, caring person, but he knows that I don’t always feel comfortable with touch, so he’s stopping himself. I don’t know if that makes me happy or sad at the reality of it. He can’t even touch me like he would anyone else. I’m too messed-up.

  “You need to stop thinking like that and instead focus on the solution, Scarlett,” he says, tapping his hand on the paper in front of him. “Have a little faith in me, all right? I have a few ideas, and I know one of them is going pay off and give us something to work with.”

  I puff out a breath. “Trust isn’t the issue here, Jaxon. Like you said, if we don’t have the evidence to prove anything, it doesn’t matter if I’m innocent or not.”

  “Did I say that?” he asks, wincing.

  “Not in those words, but basically,” I reply, shrugging. “At least that’s what I got out of it.”

  “What did you do in the two years you left the country?” he asks, and I get the feeling this has nothing to do with the case but rather his own curiosity.

  “I helped my aunt,” I tell him, picturing her house in my mind. “She lives in this two-story house, in Paris. I cooked for her, took her to her appointments, and did anything I could to help. I went for walks and soaked up the culture. I guess I kind of took the time to heal, you know? To remember who I was and figure out who I want to be. I helped my aunt, but she helped me too. She helped me remember my worth, my goodness.”

  He nods, our eyes connecting and holding. “I’m glad you had that time to find yourself again.”

  “Me too,” I say, flashing him a small smile. “I’ve changed in that time. And unless something catches me off guard, I’m mostly normal.”

  His gaze drops to my hand resting on the table. “So if I touched your hand while you saw it happening, you wouldn’t react or flinch?”

  I swallow hard, and nod once. “I don’t think I’d flinch, no.”

  Because I’d be expecting it, and I can brace myself.

  Slowly he reaches his hand across the table and, as I watch, gently squeezes mine. My first reaction is to pull away, but I don’t. I let him hold my hand. Glancing up at him, we watch each other as we share this moment.

  “Your hands are cold,” he tells me, gray eyes on them.

  “I’m cold,” I whisper back to him.

  “No, you’re not,” he says instantly, lifting and shaking his head. “You’re warm, Scarlett. You just need someone to show you that.”

  We look into each other’s eyes for longer than is appropriate.

  I don’t want to look away, but one of us needs to.

  His hand is still touching mine, his warm skin mixing with my cool, lines and temperatures blurring. I start to feel a little light-headed, and a little confused that I don’t mind his eyes on me. When other people look at me, I want them to look away, but not Jaxon, which is exactly why I need to look away. I clear my throat and drop my gaze to our hands, then gently slide mine from his and place it on my lap under the table.

  We had a moment that we shouldn’t have, and now I’m going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

  I’m good at pretending.

  A FEW NIGHTS LATER I go out to dinner and see a movie alone. I know it sounds sad, but it beats staying in the house and doing nothing. I’ve never been much of a social person, but for the first time ever I feel like being out and around people. I stop by the supermarket on the way home to grab some coffee, since I ran out this morning. When I see Jaxon standing there, still in his business attire, I have a moment where I want to flee. I’m about to give in and turn around when he sees me and smiles. He’s obviously not as awkward as I am, and knows how to act in public settings.

  “Hey,” I say, walking closer to him. I want to ask about Valentina, if there’s been any progress, but I’m not sure if it’s okay to ask right now. “Did you only just finish work?”

  He nods, wincing. “I’m a bit of a workaholic.”

  “I can see that,” I murmur. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and he should’ve finished work hours ago. “I guess you didn’t get to where you are today just sitting around.”

  This is the first time I’ve seen him when he’s off the clock and I don’t know how to act. He’s still my lawyer, and I’m still his client, but we’re in a completely different setting. A normal one. And it’s a little weird.

  “That’s true,” he says, grabbing a few oranges and placing them in his cart. “What did you do this evening?”

  “I went to a Vietnamese restaurant for dinner,” I say, walking next to him as he grabs a few more items. “And I saw a movie. A horror. It was a rookie mistake.”

  He stops in his tracks, and turns to me. “You saw a horror movie alone?”

  “Who said I was alone?” I tease, arching a brow. I don’t k
now where this playful side has come from, but I like it. I can’t remember the last time I had banter like this.

  “Your earlier description of your lack of friends,” he says, amusement written all over his face. We start to walk down the next aisle side by side.

  “Okay, yes I saw a horror movie alone. It wasn’t that scary,” I say, grabbing a jar of coffee as we pass it. “It was pretty good actually, you should go see it.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie in the theater,” he admits, looking beyond me. “It’s been a while.”

  “It had been a while for me too,” I tell him. “That’s why I wanted to go. Something different, you know? Plus I wanted to get my mind off things and get out of the house. The movie gave me an hour and a half of pure escapism. I usually read for that, and I’ll probably go home and finish my book now.”

  “And drink coffee?” he asks, smiling. My gaze drops to his smile.

  “It seems you have me pegged,” I reply, looking down as I grin. “Did you eat anything for dinner? It’s kind of late.”

  I want to look at him more, memorize his face, but I don’t. I’m attracted to him, yes, but we have more important things to handle right now. He’s my lawyer, and he’s here for one reason and one reason only, to get me out of this mess. My track record with men clearly isn’t a good one, and I think I just need to stay away from men in general, no matter how handsome they are, or how dreamy their gray eyes are. There’s nothing left for me here, and after I hopefully win the case, I’m leaving and I don’t think I will ever return. There’s no point getting close to Jaxon, or any man for that matter. I’d hate to think that Darren turned me into a cynic, because that would mean that he won, but I’m definitely a realist now.

  That doesn’t mean I can’t make a friend out of him though. I don’t have any of those. I know he’s my lawyer and I’m just his client, but I feel safe around Jaxon. And comfortable. It’s a feeling I’m not used to, and one I’d like to hold on to it. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or something, but I don’t think I can be blamed. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this.