“That’ll take hours, Mr. Tate.”
“Then I suggest you get comfortable.” I cross my arms. “Would you like some coffee?”
A slow smile forms on his lips, and he pulls out his cell phone.
“Allow me to make a few calls…”
It’s ten o’clock in the evening by the time he’s finished having various men drop briefcases and files off in my boardroom.
I’ve recorded his every word, listened to his phone calls with his various “business friends,” and after running down my list of questions, it’s obvious he and his sons are guilty as hell of every charge that will come their way.
“I appreciate your time as always, Jameson Tate.” He extends his hand, and I shake it.
“I’ll be in touch, Lucas.”
“Perhaps when you’re done with all this”—he walks to my door and opens it—“you can finally let me introduce you to my therapist.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can tell you still don’t get much sleep.” He points to his eyes.
“I sleep just fine. Four hours a night.”
“I had that problem too.” He pauses. “But not anymore.”
“I highly doubt what keeps me up at night can be cured, but I appreciate the offer.”
He nods and finally leaves.
When I’m sure he’s gone, I secure all the files inside a hidden wall panel. Then I walk down the hall to my office and lock myself inside.
I pull out the case that’s kept me up every night, year after year, because the jury came back with the wrong verdict.
Running my fingers over the words “guilty on all charges,” I stop before I can make this day any worse than it already is.
I need to focus on “winning” and doing whatever it takes to hear “not guilty.”
I’ll never let anything—or anyone—distract me ever again…
WITHDRAWAL (N.):
THE VOLUNTARY OR MANDATORY ACT OF REMOVING ONESELF, FUNDS, OR PARTICIPATION FROM A BINDING SITUATION, PROCEEDING, OR AGREEMENT.
SCARLETT
There’s a trail of ruby red bruises on the back of my neck and a collage of bite marks between my thighs.
They’re staring back at me as I gaze at myself in the mirror, reminding me of just how different my life was less than twenty-four hours ago. How my first time obliterated every fantasy I’d ever had and left me desperately yearning for more.
My nipples harden at the thought of Jameson sucking them between his lips, and my heart pangs at the thought that I may never experience his mouth again, so I close my robe and hope that will shut down the memories.
I hope he doesn’t hate me now…
Thanks to my father, I’m spending the night in the Waldorf Astoria since his meeting with Jameson lasted longer than expected. And also since he “doesn’t want to know” what type of hotel I booked for my “temporary” stay in this city.
We were supposed to get breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, but with midnight fast approaching, I’m sure I’ll be shuffled into his morning meeting plans.
Gently lowering myself onto the bed, I wince as my hips ache in the spot where Jameson roughly gripped them.
