Hayden Bennett is gorgeous, domineering, and an asshole.
I stand in the middle of my apartment while my thoughts careen within my mind. Every one is centered around the attorney and his actions. Not just those from tonight, but all of them, since the day I first saw him. How can I describe Hayden with mere words? They’re nothing but a combination of letters and sounds, unable to convey the depth and meaning that goes with a man like him.
Calculating.
Cruel.
Cold.
Given his demeanor and the way he carried himself, none of this was a surprise to me. Now, I know him a little more. Well, enough to add to my original assessment.
Confident.
Chivalrous.
Considerate.
These things about him have forced me to reevaluate Hayden. Only, I’m more confused, more torn than I’ve ever been. How can the same person who defamed my father be the same man who demands that people show me respect?
My mind is quick to retrieve images from the past, things I haven’t allowed myself to relive for fear I wouldn’t be able to function. And I need to if I’m going to survive. Tonight, I can’t hold them at bay. Like a cracked dam bearing the weight of water, I crumble under the pressure, and my brain is flooded with unwelcome memories.
The piney scent of the newly polished wood invades my senses, and my head pounds all the more because of it. Or perhaps it’s due to the strained atmosphere in the courtroom? Regardless, there’s no relief to be found. I clench my hands in my lap until nails dig into my skin. The pinprick of pain grounds me.
But it’s nothing compared to the agony within my soul.
Like the rest of the people here, I sit in silence as the prosecution’s lawyer, a tall man with blue eyes and glossy black hair, circles my father like a dog, ready to tear him to shreds.
And then he does. It’s verbally, but from the way I flinch every time, it might as well be physical.
My father is on the stand, his back straight and his chin lifted. Considering he’s a man fighting for his life and reputation, he holds himself quite well, a politician through and through. Like my father, the attorney displays no emotion, his handsome face a complete mask.
If only I was able to compose myself as effectively.
I failed miserably, and I blame it entirely on Bennett. When I saw the lawyer for the first time in the hallway, I hadn’t been aware of his identity. All I could do was stare at the man in a complete haze of yearning. It wasn’t just the beauty of him. I’d been drawn to the way he looked at me.
As if I were a woman and not the porcelain doll I’d been treated like my entire life.
Even Adam, my fiancé, had never gazed at me with such unconcealed lust. Sure, he’d been pressuring me to sleep with him, but it wasn’t the same thing.
Adam wanted me.
Bennett would consume me.
“Senator Green,” Bennett says, his voice as smooth as satin, “isn’t it true that you were having an affair with your secretary, Ms. Hall?”
My father slowly nods. “Yes. I loved her.”
Bennett lifts an ebony brow. “We have eyewitnesses who saw you with Ms. Hall on the day of her death. They also heard you two arguing. Is this true, senator?”
I shake my head as though to answer on behalf of my father. Deep in my heart I know he’s a good person. Whether or not he had a fight with Kristen, there’s no way he would’ve killed her. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.
“I was with Ms. Hall,” the senator says, “but we were discussing campaign strategies for my upcoming election. The argument was merely a difference in opinion as to how we should proceed. In the end, she agreed with me.”
Bennett tilts his head. “Did she really? So you’re telling me it had nothing to do with her being pregnant with your illegitimate child? A scandal that could cost you the election?”
“I was planning to marry her!”
“Then why was she found murdered in your bedroom later that evening with handprints on her neck? With marks that matched the shape and size of your hands?”
The lawyer places a photo directly in front of the senator and taps the image, his long fingers directing my father’s attention. He stiffens. And remorse flickers in his eyes.
Is it because he’s guilty or due to the devastation of it all?
I have to believe my father’s innocent, or nothing will make sense. But the thought of him going to prison for the rest of his life…
My chest seizes as my lungs contract, thinning my breaths until I’m wheezing. Stars appear in my vision, partially blocking out the scene before me, and I blink rapidly to clear it without any success. I close my eyes and press my fists against them while taking a long, deep breath to combat the rising panic.
My father is a good man. This will all be over soon. Bennett rattles my certainty with every silver-tongued word he utters, and I haven’t even taken the stand yet…
Do I have the fortitude to relive that night? I might not reveal all of the details, but my father needs me as his alibi, and I won’t fail him. I can’t.
“Look at her,” Bennett says, his voice like the crack of a whip. When my father’s skin pales, the lawyer continues. “Do you see the way she’s looking? Her final moments were spent staring up at her attacker. Do you see how her eyes are lifeless but even in death the terror remains?”
The ruthless interrogation of the prosecutor continues. And if it wasn’t damaging my father, I’d think it a thing of beauty. Bennett’s words are like daggers, employed with merciless precision while drawing blood with every sentence. Not enough to kill, but to slowly weaken and main. And then there’s his body language. His forceful energy permeating the room like a fog, making it hard for me to see a favorable outcome.
His voice commands my attention, causing my panic to slowly subside.
I pull in a large breath through my nose and blow it out through my mouth to continue ridding my body of the anxiety pummeling it from within. The last thing my father needs is for me to have a panic attack in the middle of the court hearing. Although I might lose my fucking mind if he’s declared guilty.
I’d definitely blame Bennett for that.
I shift my gaze to the lawyer, his words a low rumble that my brain refuses to translate. Mentally, I’ve checked out and no longer want to hear the things he’s saying about my father. It’s torture.
Except watching Bennett is a different kind of agony.
A sweet longing that I wish didn’t exist.
He walks to stand in front of the jury, his tone more insistent, more passionate than I’ve ever heard. It sparks something in me. Something I’ve never experienced, even with my fiancé.
Desire.
I groan at the memory, in both frustration and arousal. Hayden took up permanent residence in my mind that day, and I’m ashamed to admit that he never left. It’s more accurate to say that I never got rid of him.
Even when my dislike for him grew throughout the trial.
But now? I’m not sure whether or not I still despise him for his past transgressions. Is Harper right in saying that Bennett was just doing his job in the courtroom and I’ve been over-sensitive on that front? Or is my intuition right when it comes to him?
Hayden is a conundrum.
He’s violent, but he uses that violence to protect me. Until he walked into my life again, I didn’t realize I’d been missing that security. Sure, I experienced it with my father growing up, but it was never to the level of intensity that Hayden showed.
Does sexual attraction heighten the effect? Or do I feel this way because of the man himself?
I have no answers. The only thing I know is that, for whatever reason, this man makes me feel safe even though I shouldn’t. And his displays of violence don’t shock or frighten me.
They seduce me.
