The moment I get off her, Anastasia crawls backward until her back hits the side of a shelf, but she holds the laptop protectively to her chest.
She didn’t let it go, even while she was shattering against my cock and I had to muffle her screams.
I tuck myself in and grunt at the twitch in my dick. Apparently, coming down her pretty throat isn’t enough. I’m resisting the urge to grab her by the throat and fuck her against the wall. Condoms be damned.
Though, not really. I’m not my sister and I’m not interested in kids now. Or ever. Why bring a child to this cruel world, then force them to fend for themselves?
Remi is the only kid allowed in my life, and only from afar.
Nevertheless, I’m seriously contemplating bending her over the nearest table and fucking her tight little cunt. I can pull out before I’m finished or—
Fuck, what am I even thinking about? I shouldn’t be entertaining this idea in the first place, let alone finding loopholes around it.
I don’t fuck without a condom and that’s that. I’m pissed off that I even considered the option.
This is only because I haven’t shagged in a while. That’s it.
That’s all.
Anastasia grabs the laptop with one hand and zips her pants with the other. That’s her name, Anastasia, her real name.
In admitting that, she also indirectly insinuated that the whole Jane persona is just that—a persona. None of it is real; not her appearance and definitely not those fake brown eyes that are currently tracking my every movement.
Sometimes, she looks like prey, a smart one who does the watching instead of waiting to be eaten.
Now that I think about it, this is what she’s been doing ever since that first time I saw her in that bar. She was watching from behind those icy blonde strands and determining what to do next.
Is it curiosity or perhaps caution?
Just who the fuck is she? The mere question in my head boils my blood with annoyance. I’m not a good man. I’m not even decent. Needless to say, I’m not the type who asks women their names, let alone about their life story.
So why the fuck do I want to jam my fingers inside her and pull out whatever the fuck she’s hiding?
Why her?
Because she’s a little fucking liar, that’s why.
While I’m used to criminals lying to me all the time, it’s different when it’s on a personal scale.
Once I’m all tucked in, I open the door with more force than needed. The light from outside slips inside, bathing the room and her in a soft hue.
Her cheeks are still red, her expression like a deer caught in the headlights, but she takes the motion of me opening the door as meaning I’m done with her and bends over to grab her laptop case.
The moment she does, I snatch it from between her fingers.
At first, she freezes as if not understanding what just happened, then a blush covers her cheeks. The light coming through the door turns her brown eyes lighter, almost streaked with blue. Which I’m sure is her actual eye color.
“Give it back!”
“Tell me something about the real you first.”
She jumps, but I’m holding the laptop up. Considering our size difference, she won’t be able to reach it no matter how much she tries.
But she does just that—try. She grabs my arm and uses it as leverage to jump higher. Her face turns a deeper shade of red with each passing second and her breathing comes out harsh and guttural.
Finally, she pushes back, her brow furrowing before she raises her nose. “You won’t be able to open it anyway. It’s password protected.”
“I’ll figure out a way.” I shake the laptop in the air. “I wonder what skeletons I’ll find here.”
She purses her lips. “Why do you want to know about me?”
“Because I’m not a big fan of liars. Besides, you know so much about me from all that googling, it’s only fair that I’m in the know, too.”
She stares at my hand for a second and I can tell the exact moment she decides to have one last-ditch attempt.
But even as she jumps, she doesn’t manage to reach half the distance.
“Nice try.” I smirk.
She glares, but it’s only a fraction of a second before she breaks eye contact. I noticed that she doesn’t do that a lot, looking into other people’s or my eyes, as if she’s escaping something by avoiding them.
Crouching down, she grabs her glasses that I threw away earlier and puts them on, using them as some sort of armor, a weapon against the world.
Or maybe just against me.
“I have a condition.”
“A condition? What makes you think you’re in a position to have those? I have your laptop, remember?”
“I won’t tell you anything unless you agree to my condition.”
“And what is that?”
She inhales a deep breath, places her hand on her chest, then says, “Can’t you accept that woman’s case?”
I narrow my eyes. “Were you spying on me?”
“I just…happened to be passing by.”
“For such an excellent liar, you’re doing a rubbish job with your speech pattern right now. But it doesn’t matter, because the answer is no.”
A frown appears between her delicate brows and she drops her hand from her chest. “Why not? She was obviously abused.”
“How do you know that?”
“She had purple marks on her wrist that she was hiding with makeup. It’s typical behavior shown by abused women.”
“And you’re an expert because…”
“Mom was in an abusive relationship and I witnessed it all. From the beatings to the lying to the flinching. All of it. I was there when she used foundation to hide the bruises but I wasn’t there when she sent me to the neighbor in order to protect me. It takes a lot of courage to go against one’s abuser. I know, because Mom couldn’t, and when she did, it was already too late. So please, help that woman if you can.”
I pause, lowering my hand with the laptop to my side. The emotions in her voice are so raw and real. More real than anything I’ve heard from her before. I always suspected that she was hiding something, that she was cunning and conniving for a reason, but I never thought it would be this.
She’s not even focused on her laptop anymore, only me. There’s desperation in her stiff posture, in the way she continuously adjusts her glasses and touches her chest as if that keeps her rooted in the moment.
I flex my fingers on the laptop. “Why was it too late?”
“What?”
“You said your mum couldn’t ask for help and when she did, it was too late. Why?”
“Because…” She strokes the edge of her glasses, clutches her shirt in her fist, then swallows thickly. “Because…the person she asked for help wasn’t exactly a knight in shining armor.”
“And you think I am?”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“Doesn’t make me a hero.”
“A hero is the last thing women like my mom and that girl need.”
“Why is that?”
“Because heroes follow rules and think about the world’s wellbeing. They’re shackled by outdated codes of honor and self-imposed morals, and that might work in a black and white platonic idealism, but that’s not reality, that’s not how it works. In life, sometimes, the hero has to turn into a villain.”
“Is that what I am? A villain?”
“I heard you could be if the situation requires it.”
“So I’m a part-time villain?”
“I prefer the term, dark warrior of justice.”
“And do you believe in that? Justice?”
“I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll have nothing to believe in, nothing to hope for, and that’s just…too bleak to think about.” She stares at me for that fraction of a second, then lowers her head. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Believe in justice?”
“Not really.”
“Then…why did you become a lawyer?”
“Because justice fucked me over once upon a time and I’m fucking it right back. It’s a grudge of sorts. Justice and I have what people call a love-hate relationship.” No clue why the fuck I’m telling her all of this when I don’t talk about it with anyone, not even T.
My perception about justice has been warped ever since I was a kid, and it only got more complicated as I grew up. I hate justice most of the time, but using it has been giving my life meaning.
However, I don’t like others finding out about my relationship with it, so the fact that I just told her all that is a first.
It could be because she opened up about her mother. Could be because of the way she steals glances at me, even though her head is usually lowered, worshipping the ground.
Or maybe it’s due to the fact that I discovered another depth to her, one that’s toying with my fucking shadows, and I want those gone.
The depth and the shadows.
Or maybe I want them to clash together, to hit rock bottom so that I can watch the type of mayhem it’ll create.
“Justice fucked them over, too,” she whispers. “People like that woman and Mom, I mean. No one heard them scream or saw their hidden bruises. No one stopped to offer them a helping hand or even listened to them. But you can.”
“I’m not exactly a benevolent person.”
“You don’t have to be. Just do what you do best.”
“And what is that?”
She smiles and it’s soft yet raw, just like her words from earlier. As if she’s not only baring her teeth but also a piece of her hidden soul in the process. “Fuck justice over on their behalf.”
I can’t help the tinge of amusement in my voice. “I thought you believed in justice. Now, you want me to fuck it over?”
“When it’s being an asshole, yeah.” She peeks at me through her lashes. “So?”
“I’m still not convinced. You’ll have to try harder.”
A determined fire takes refuge in her eyes. “I will.”
“Are you sure? I’m not the type who easily changes their mind.”
She snatches the laptop from my fingers, and even though I saw it coming, I don’t stop her.
A gleeful, victorious expression covers her features. “And I’m not the type who easily gives up.”
“I’m in.” I slide to the seat across from Aspen and focus on the man sitting behind the desk.
Nate, the Weaver of Weaver & Shaw and the managing partner of the firm stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
He’s in his late thirties, has a strong bone structure, and is strict as fuck when it comes to running W&S. While he doesn’t interfere with how we pick our clients, he doesn’t let us completely loose either.
One way or another, he’s involved in every single case that comes knocking on our doors, which is why I’m sure he already knows about Sandra’s.
Either his spying elves told him or Daniel’s big mouth took care of the job. Either way, he doesn’t seem very surprised, just skeptical, really.
That makes two of us.
It took me a few hours of mental processing to come to this decision. After I parted ways with Anastasia earlier today, I went back to my office and thought about the pros and cons.
Naturally, for me, the cons are greater. Not only is this a civil case, but it also hits too close to home, and that’s usually a deal-breaker.
But something Anastasia said kept nagging at me.
No one heard them scream or saw their hidden bruises. No one stopped to offer them a helping hand or even listened to them. But you can.
It reminded me of Dad. If he hadn’t found me and Teal, if he’d rejected us, we would’ve headed down a destructive path. We wouldn’t have become the people we are today.
As if it’s a sign, he called me earlier and asked if I needed anything. I’m a successful twenty-eight-year-old man with a fortune that I’m investing around the globe, but my dad still calls and asks me if I need anything.
He’s never once made me feel as if I’m not his biological son. When I fucked up as a teen, he got mad at me like a normal father would and taught me what the world is all about. When I did something right, he rewarded me and made me feel appreciated and loved.
The combination of his and Teal’s call, as well as Anastasia’s words, sealed the deal for me.
Despite the cons glaring at me from a distance, I’m getting out of my comfort zone.
It was getting boring in there anyway.
Nate continues watching me and so does Aspen. She’s a redhead and one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen—aside from the icy-haired, blue-eyed little liar.
I take a calming breath to shoo her away from my thoughts.
Back to the topic at hand, Aspen is the only female senior partner at W&S and Nate’s right-hand woman. She’s also Kingsley’s archenemy, so the whole dynamic between the three of them is amusing at best.
She takes a sip from her coffee. “Didn’t you turn her away?”
“I changed my mind.”
“You rarely change your mind, if ever, Van Doren.” Nate leans forward in his chair. “Why now?”
“I didn’t know that her father was being represented by Pearce & Powers, our biggest rivals last I checked.” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs at the ankles. “We can’t let this chance to crush them slide.”
“How about you let me and King worry about Pearce & Powers and tell me the real reason?”
“I smell something fishy, too.” Aspen places her coffee on the table and two pairs of critical, judgmental eyes zero in on me.
“I’m merely interested in the case. What more reason do you need? Just take my word for it and let me do my magic. Needless to say, you guys are invited to have front-row seats.”
“Are you sure?” Nate raises a brow. “You’ll handle the civil side of this case, considering that Sandra Bell is demanding compensation.”
“Yes, but the criminal case might happen right after this and I can assist Sandra.”
“You’re well aware that this case will be media-heavy, not only because of the nature of the lawsuit but also due to who she’s going against. Matt Bell is a known producer and that makes him a public figure.”
“Which will bring more awareness to these types of cases—and the firm, of course. It doesn’t matter who Matt Bell is, I’m going to crush him and his lawyer.”
Aspen gives me a little smile. Despite her behind-the-scenes role, she doesn’t miss a chance to give scums what they deserve. “My little elves tell me the prosecutor will be charging him with a Class B violent felony for the sexual abuse.”
“Since she’s related to him by blood, the opposing counsel will argue for a Class E felony. Then they’ll easily get him put on probation and it’ll be as if it never happened.” Nate is stating facts in his cool tone that’s slightly provocative, as he does in court. “That’s if the prosecutor finds proof of the sexual assault. If it turns into a his-word-versus-hers scenario, who do you think will come out of it unscathed?”
“Not that lowlife, for sure.”
“He already got bail for the criminal case, so it’s not looking good,” he says.
“Then I will change things to my favor. I’ll even find evidence to force the prosecutor’s hand.”
“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you.” Aspen crosses her legs. “Reginald Pearce himself is representing Matt Bell. Not to mention that the DA appointed Gerard as the prosecutor and he’s besties with Pearce & Powers.”
“Thanks for all the depressing news, Aspen, but as I said, I don’t give a fuck who I go up against. It might as well be the Supreme Court and I will still fuck them over.” I smile at that.
And no, Anastasia didn’t play a part in my decision. Fine, maybe a little, but it’s more for me.
She gave me a genius idea earlier.
This is another chance to fuck up the system that left gigantic loopholes for predators like Matt Bell to take advantage of.
“Even the mafia?” It’s Nate who asks.
“The mafia?”
“Russian mafia. Matt uses his position in showbiz to launder their dirty money and bring them profitable ventures, among other things.”
I grow silent.
Aspen fixates me with a smug look. “Want me to take over?”
“Fuck no. The mafia’s involvement will make this even more fun.”
“You mean, dangerous. This is a bad idea for your first large-scale case.”
“You forgot something, Nate. I love bad ideas.”
Like Anastasia.
She’s the worst idea of all, but all I’m thinking about is keeping her coming for more.
