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“It’s a skylark,” I say simply.
Her eyebrows draw together. “Like your hotel.”
“That, and it’s a play on my surname.” I pause a beat, just to accept that I’ve opened this door to her. “Pride was a big deal to my father. He believed names hold value, so I took that to heart. Plus,” I add, bringing her closer. “I knew it would look beautiful on you.”
The doubt in her eyes calls me out, and I chuckle. “You didn’t have this designed for me,” she says.
“No, I didn’t,” I say, admitting the truth. “But I had it designed with you in mind.”
She accepts this more easily than I’m comfortable with. And I despise how honest and unfiltered the statement is. I suck in a breath and release her. “Roll over and get some sleep.”
My abruptness severs the moment. She nods as I move toward the other side of the bed. There’s more damage control that will need to be done tomorrow. But lying next to Alexis, hearing her shallow breaths as she drifts asleep, relieves the urgency I’d normally feel to control the matter.
The ringing of my phone brings me out of a heavy sleep. I’m disoriented for a moment until I recognize the hotel room. Bathed in early morning light, her features pale and her body curled beneath the white comforter, Alexis slumbers through the ringing that has now been picked up by the hotel phone.
I reach across her and grab the handset. “Who is this?”
“We’re sorry to disturb you, sir,” the woman on the other end says. “But there’s an urgent call from a Mister Malcolm Bates. Do you wish me to connect you?”
I blink hard a couple of times, clearing my vision. “Yes. Put me through to him.” I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand: 5:25 a.m. A knot forms in my throat, dread prickling my skin immediately.
As I wait to be patched through, the clicking of the earpiece forces me out of bed, my annoyance bringing me fully awake. The press. A disgruntled neighbor. Kids pranking. Bates’ reputation has suffered during the trial, so I prepped him for the public backlash.
“Larkin,” he says, his weary voice coming through the line.
“What is it, Malcolm?”
“I need you to come to my house in Falls Church. I’m about to be arrested.”
My hand grips the handset as I pull it away and utter a harsh curse. With a deep inhale, I bring it back to my ear. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything.”
“I know,” he says, and he does. We’ve been through this before.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I slam down the phone. “Fuck.”
Alexis is awake now, her arms wrapped around her knees as she watches me pace across the room, picking up clothes and dressing hurriedly.
“Find something decent to wear,” I say, buttoning my dress shirt. I snake my tie around my neck, forgoing tying it. “Now.”
She springs off the bed and grabs for any clothes she can find in the closet. “What’s wrong?”
When it comes to Malcolm Bates, what’s not wrong? I squeeze my eyes shut, angry with myself for thinking of my client with such contempt. But after nearly three months of working on one case—a rape case—I was relieved it was over.
“Bates,” I answer her, figuring that’s answer enough. “I need you to start a couple hours early. There’s a recorder in my briefcase, and I need you to take notes. Just—” I look at her, loathing that this is her introduction into her new position. “Let me know if anything becomes too much.”
Her head tilts a bit as she studies me, her gaze feeling intrusive in this small room. “All right,” she says.
I notify Jefferson to pick us up at the front of the hotel. I’m sure he’s not ecstatic over the early morning call, either, but that’s why he’s paid very nicely for his services.
He’s already waiting at the front as we exit, coffees to-go. Anticipating my needs; another reason why he’s paid so generously. Once he delivers us to my personal car, I give him a directive to take the rest of the day off. The less people involved, the less who have privileged information.
I try to prepare Alexis for what she might see or hear, though I doubt I’m doing any good. This is not how I planned her induction to go—being introduced to my world through the grime I have to shuffle.
I’m a difficult man. I have extreme, sexual preferences. But rape is not one of them. Only the lowest of filth gets a power trip from raping another human being. Power is to be obtained willingly—by earning it—not stripping it from another.
Which is why being Malcolm Bates’ lawyer is becoming increasingly challenging. The day I no longer trust in his innocence, is the day he not only needs to find new representation, but a new city.
Alexis sits in the passenger-seat, quietly thinking. Taking in the overcast morning with her cup of coffee warming her hands. I typically have Julia send over whichever paralegal or lawyer I see fit to meet with clients. Alexis was never one of them. Not because she’s incapable. Rather, because I sheltered her from the more difficult cases.
