by Missy Blue
Chapter Twenty-Three
Her
I SAT OUTSIDE courtroom number thirteen in the New York City Criminal Court. I was dressed in a black skirt suit, low black heels, with my hair pulled back into a bun, and no makeup. My sweating hands were clasped tightly in my lap, and my feet pumped against the floor as nerves hummed inside me.
I glanced up, seeing my family standing before me. Ruby sat next to me, reaching out intermittently to pat my knee. Everyone I loved was there.
Except one.
I remembered Asher’s final words to me. He wanted me to not be afraid, to concentrate on this moment only. But then I caught a glimpse of him then—of Jackson James. No one else saw him. But I saw him, just the same, and it petrified me to the darkest recesses of my mind. He looked exactly the same. His cold, dead dark eyes bored into me. I couldn't be sure, but I thought he smiled at me.
Twenty minutes after Jackson James vanished from my sight, but not my mind, the door to the courtroom opened and a hush fell over my family.
"Miss Juliet Mucciarone?" the female bailiff asked, looking at me. I nodded and slowly, unsteadily, rose to my feet. "Please come with me. You've been called as a witness in the State versus Jackson James trial."
I swallowed hard and looked around at my family. I saw concern, fear, and love on their faces. Ruby reached out and squeezed my hand, and I returned it weakly.
"We'll be waiting right in the next room, my little girl," my father promised. He pointed down the hall. "That one there. Okay?"
"Okay, Pop," I replied. I turned and followed the bailiff into courtroom, my stomach tightening with every step.
The room was small. There was a judge's bench and to the side of that, were a dozen men and women I'd never seen before. There were a couple of lawyers present, to hear my testimony and question me, and several guards and NYPD officers.
And there was the man who had done everything in his power to torture me and end my life.
I stood rooted in place, unable to break the gaze I held with Jackson James. He wasn't smiling now but his eyes were as dark and dead as they had been before. They were pure evil. My head began to spin and waves of nausea roiled through my stomach. Sweat beaded my skin and my pulse accelerated to a level that left me shaking and breathless.
"Miss Mucciarone?" the judge called gently from his booth. I turned my eyes toward him, seeing a white-haired, grandfatherly face peering at me from behind a pair of spectacles. "Would you please come forward?"
I turned my eyes back toward Jackson James, and gagged. I clapped a hand to my mouth as my eyes filled with tears involuntarily.
"Bailiff, please escort Miss Mucciarone to the restroom," the judge said quickly. "We'll hold briefly for the witness to compose herself."
I pulled away from the bailiff. "I got it," I squeaked. I pressed my lips together firmly and rushed out of the courtroom. My family must already have moved to the waiting room down the hall. I hurried down the corridor to the women's restroom and burst into a stall, dropping to my knees as I vomited violently. Tears streamed down my face as I continued to hurl.
"Goddammit," I mumbled, cupping my face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath. I leaned my head against the cold tile wall of the stall. I got shakily to my feet and left the stall, moving to the counter. I winced at my reflection. All of the color had drained from my olive complexion, even from my lips, and I looked as waxy and pale as a corpse. I leaned over to splash water on my face and then took a long drink. When I felt my pulse calming down, and my breathing regulating, I took a deep breath and straightened my clothing. I left the bathroom and walked back up the hallway to the side door of the courtroom I'd entered into earlier. For a moment, I paused with my hand on the door, squeezing my eyes shut. I took a deep breath as my pulse threatened to start racing again.
"Jewel."
I whirled at the sound of my name, spoken by the only voice that made me feel safe, made me feel whole, and my jaw dropped.
Asher stood down the hallway, dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a navy blue button-down shirt. His face held a few cuts and bruises from the fight, but his recently cut hair was tamed, his clothes were pressed, and he was wearing black leather shoes. He looked at me for a long time. I froze, my mind not being able to process his presence. When he offered me that smile he did, the one that never failed to hug my heart, I ran toward him.
He let out a soft grunt as I threw myself into his arms and winced, holding me back from him slightly as my arms started to squeeze around him. I looked up at him in confusion as he hissed softly, his face contorted in pain.
"What?" I whispered.
"Sorry," he murmured back, giving me a small half-smile. "Three cracked ribs."
I gasped, my hands going lightly to his side. "Jesus, Asher. Are you all right?"
"I don’t matter," he said softly. He reached up to rest a hand on the back of my neck. "Only you do, Nutcracker. You all right?"
I looked up into his eyes. "I don't know…" I answered truthfully. I shook my head. "I heard about what happened. The news says there's a major fan backlash against the judges—that they cheated, that someone—Asher, I'm so sorry I wasn't there—"
"Stop it," Asher said. "I don't give a shit about the tournament. I'm here for you. You, Jewel. You. You are my world. If you break, I break. If you die, I die."
I bit my lip to stop it from shaking, fisting my hands unconsciously into the material of his shirt at his sides. "You always know exactly what to say," I said tremulously.
"Ow," Asher grunted softly, catching my hand that was twisting into his bad side. I dropped it immediately.
"I'm so sorry," I gasped. "How did…how did you get here? You didn't drive all this way like this, did you?"
"Bailey," Asher replied, half-smiling again. "He’s a little pissed at me but that doesn’t matter. When isn’t he?"
I shook my head mournfully at Asher. "You should be resting."
He shrugged. "Told you I'd be here for you, told you I’d protect you… Always," he said simply. He smirked a little. "Even risk your Dad beating my ass if he sees me here." He looked around. "Where's your family?"
I pointed over my shoulder down the hall. "They're in a waiting room down that way."
The door opened behind me and the bailiff poked her head out. "Miss Mucciarone, are you ready now?" My eyes glanced over Asher questioningly. "This is a closed court. Your friend may wait out here or with your family down the hall."
"I'll be right there," Asher said, nodding toward the bench just to the left of the door. He took my hand. "Come on."
We walked the dozen or so steps toward the courtroom. The bailiff averted her eyes and ducked back into the courtroom to give us some privacy. She used her foot to keep the door slightly ajar for me.
"I don't know if I can do this, Asher," I whispered as I caught sight of my attacker's profile in the room. My stomach immediately seized up again.
Asher tugged on my hand and made me look at him. "You have to do this," he said softly. "You have to do it for you and for the women he killed, and for the women he might kill if you don't do this. Jewel, don't let this guy have a hold on your life for one more second. Put this shit to bed, now. He couldn't kill you, couldn't destroy you, and he never will. Because you are stronger than he will ever be." Asher grabbed my chin and made me look up at him when I tried to look away. "He doesn't define you. What he did to you doesn't define you. You told me yourself—you're no victim. Now show me." His pewter eyes bored into mine intensely. "Show me. You copy?"
His tone was harsh, terse and brusque, but I could still hear real caring in it. It strengthened me, made me stiffen my spine and hold my shoulders back. I pulled gently out of his grasp and lifted my chin of my own accord. I looked him in the eye and nodded.
He returned my nod and reached out to pull the door open for me. He looked at me expectantly, and I refused to let him down twice, so I entered the room again. The bailiff nodded at me and hovered a hand over the small o
f my back, gently guiding me toward the witness stand.
I glanced back at Asher as the door began to shut. He didn't nod, smile, or otherwise change his stoic expression, but everything I needed to hear or feel then, I saw within his eyes. I turned away as the door closed and stepped onto the stand.
It ends here.
THE BAILIFF OPENED the door for me and I headed inside, my knees wobbling. My testimony had easily been the most difficult thing I'd done. I had been required to relive the ordeal in detail to a crowd of strangers, and, in front of the demon who had shredded me apart with his bare hands.
Jackson James had remained expressionless during my testimony and it had unnerved me completely. There were a few times I faltered, unable to go on, but I thought of Asher, heard his words, believed the truth in them, and made myself carry on.
I was immensely proud of myself. For the most part, I remained stoic and calm, answering all the questions asked following my testimony. The cross-examination by the defense attorney had been difficult at best, absolutely appalling at worst. Jackson James' defense was that he was criminally insane and therefore had no real knowledge or idea of what it was that he was doing. The defense attorney used my testimony to try to further his point that some of those actions—forcing me to hold Jackson James after I'd been raped and beaten—showed how unstable and out of touch with reality he was.
While I didn't contest that any rapist was a madman and a sociopath, I knew my attacker knew precisely what he was doing, and said so. The prosecution supported my claims by pointing to Jackson James' original statement to the police—that he'd been stalking me for several weeks, watching me dance in the ballet every night I performed, before going through with the attack. It was pre-meditated, they said, and could therefore not be the random act of a man insane.
I hoped he would receive the harshest penalty possible. The death penalty. For now, though, I just wanted to get the hell out of there before I had a real breakdown.
I walked straight out of the courtroom into Asher's arms, being careful of his injured side, and hugged his good one. I felt him press his lips against the top of my head as he held me firmly to his side.
"You good?" he asked softly. I didn't look up at him, but nodded against his chest. He kissed the top of my head again. "Let's go see your family," he said. "They're waiting for you."
Now I did look up at him. "You…you want to come?" I asked hesitantly.
He glanced down at me. "I’m not giving up on you. So yes. Come on."
We walked down the hall toward the waiting room where my family was and knocked on the door. After a moment, my mother pulled the door open, a look of concerned expectancy on her face that changed to surprise when she saw Asher.
"Asher!" she called out, and glanced over her shoulder at my father meaningfully. She turned back around to face Asher and me and reached out to squeeze his hand. "Look, everyone. Asher's here."
Asher nodded at the chorus of greetings, and I tensed up when I saw my father get to his feet. "Asher," he said calmly by way of greeting. He glanced at me. "Can we, uh, step outside into the hallway for a chat? Juliet, why don't you go on in and get a cup of coffee and hug your mother or something."
"No," I said stubbornly, tightening my arms around Asher's waist. He hissed in pain accordingly and I loosened my hold. "Shit. I'm sorry."
"What's the matter?" my father asked, lifting his eyebrows.
"Just a small bruise, sir," Asher managed, his voice roughened slightly from pain. "I'll be all right."
"Three cracked ribs," I informed my father.
My father sighed and reached behind him to shut the door to the waiting room. "You need anything, kid? You been to the doctor yet?"
"I saw the medic at the tournament. He taped my ribs for me. I'll be fine, sir." Asher straightened up and looked my father in the eye. "You wanted to talk, sir?"
"Yeah," my father said, sounding defeated. He sighed again. "Listen, Asher. You didn't deserve what I said to you yesterday. I was in a rage, I panicked. Had gotten some anonymous call telling me you leaked the story to the press, about my little baby girl, and I just lost it…"
“Sir, you never have to apologize to me where your daughter’s concerned.” My father gave Asher a nod of respect and gratitude then, and I started tearing up as I watched them bond. "Sir, can I ask who called you?" Asher’s calm expression didn't change, but I didn't miss the way his jaw clenched in anger.
"I don't know," my father said. "Just some guy. He didn't give me his name. Why, you think you know who it was?"
"I have an idea, sir," Asher said quietly. "And it was nothing against Jewel. It was done to hurt me, sir. Jewel was just an innocent bystander, if you will. I'm real sorry she got mixed up in it. The Network’s getting fined for airing the information and the commentators are getting suspended from work. A reporter and my manager, who I fired, were involved as well. I think they're the ones responsible for digging up the information and giving it to the commentators."
"You fired your manager?" my father asked, confused. "Why would you do that?"
"He didn't take care of Jewel, like I told him I needed him to when I was working," Asher said simply. "So I fired him."
"Dad," I said gently. "I told you Asher was a good man. You don't need to worry about me with him. I'm always going to be okay."
My father cleared his throat and extended his hand. "You are a good man, Asher," he said quietly.
Asher immediately reached out to clasp his hand. I smiled at them both, my heart filling with a sweet emotion I didn't have a name for. Dad cleared his throat again and I realized he was fighting tears. Who knew Pop was really a teddy bear?
"Well, you have to rush off, Asher?" my father asked. "We're going to visit some family while we're up here, have Sunday dinner on a Monday before we head home. Would you like to come?"
"Oh, thank you, sir, but I have my brother waiting for me," Asher said. "He drove me here as a favor. He needs to get back to his wife, sir."
"Asher needs to rest, too," I said, concerned about his ribs.
My father nodded. "I understand. You get some rest, kid." He pulled open the door to the waiting room and gave Asher a half-smile. "You're all right with me, Asher." He disappeared inside, leaving us alone.
Asher smiled at the look of happiness on my face. "Your father’s a good man."
"He is," I said, gingerly hugging his waist again. "So are you. Thank you for being here when I needed you, Asher."
He watched me for a while, as if he were thinking hard on something. Finally, he spoke up. "You’ve got to understand one thing about me, Nutcracker..." He tilted his head down, and swept his lips over mine, the heat of his breath sending shivers down my spine as he whispered, “that…I love you,” and then he kissed me. When he pulled away from me, my hand trailed his as my mind swirled from his declaration.
“I love you too, Asher.”
I moved toward the door of the waiting room, almost on a high, and glanced over my shoulder. For a brief moment, the hallway receded and I only saw him—strong, quiet, thoughtful. Possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and not just on the outside. He constantly went out of his way to prove himself to me, to prove himself worthy of me, all the time. I was beginning to wonder if I were worthy of him. I slipped inside the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I bit my lip and my cheeks grew hot.
"You look like you're going to pass out," Alexis said, suddenly appearing at my side. She took my arm and led me to a chair. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"
"I've never been happier," I said.
And I meant it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Her
IT HAD BEEN over a week since the tournament had ended and I’d testified. Asher had stopped by his physician to get his ribs re-taped. His doctor persuaded him to rest, and sternly advised that any exercise was out of the question for at least the next month.
But that didn’t stop him.
Since we’d said those t
hree little words, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off one another.
In just a couple of months, Asher had helped me evolve beyond the impossible. While I knew that making changes within myself was solely up to me, Asher had played a huge role in piecing me back together. The idea of loving him was a scary one, because that required me to place all my trust in another human being and hope for the best that he wouldn't hurt me, but it was something I knew I couldn't change. I loved Asher. I loved him, and that was that.
As if he could sense my eyes on him, Asher sleepily opened his and glanced over at me, catching me staring at him. "That wasn't creepy at all," he teased, his voice husky and deep from sleep. I smiled and scooted closer on his bed, turning to press my back to his chest and wrap his arm around me. I faced the window and watched as the first rays of sun slipped between the remaining clouds.
Asher's hand idly trailed down my tummy, stopping on my hip, and pulling it back against him as he gently pressed his hips forward, letting me know silently that he was ready for me. His lips pulled at my earlobe as he reached down to pull my nightie up from over my hips. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, leaning my head back as I enjoyed the feeling of his hands moving over my skin. That was another thing—I still couldn't believe that he'd turned me into such a sex maniac. The slightest touch from him always had me wet and humming like a well-oiled machine. I felt like I'd never be able to get enough.
I felt his hand brush against my backside as he maneuvered his boxer-briefs down, and then I felt the thick length of him pressing against me. I allowed him to lift my top leg and drape it back over his, while he placed himself between my legs, right against my core
I'd been moist before he'd even woken, and I let out a tiny groan as he slid his tip along my wetness. I felt myself throb with need the instant before he parted me and pushed inside. The feeling of him inside me at this angle made me gasp with pleasure, my eyes flying open for a moment as he spooned me, his hips moving deliberately and insistently.
