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They can’t see her, but I can. She took a swing at the guy. It wasn’t enough.
My throat dries and I have to readjust, keeping back the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. It’s been two years, but there’s no amount of time that could pass and make this right.
I take so many four-count breaths I lose track of them. Ella holds my hand tightly through the whole hearing. It’s the longest we’ve touched each other. She refuses to let go and I’m grateful for her.
Quincy ended up in harm’s way because she wanted more from me than the D/s relationship we had, and I didn’t want that. I couldn’t feel the spark for it, even though she was beautiful and smart. Something in my gut warned me away from that deeper commitment. And now I’m here with Ella, who also wants more than domination and submission. She wants it, even if she hasn’t admitted it. Of course she wants it. She’s been married before. She knows what it means to commit like that.
And with her—
My chest seems to expand with how much I want that too. The vision blocks out the court proceedings. If Ella were mine, she’d have my ring on her finger right now. I could feel it while she held my hand. It wouldn’t be her home, but our home, somewhere else. It would be the two of us looking out at the world together. But then again … would she ever want to move?
Peeking down at her, I know she was someone else’s first. Someone she misses. Someone she hasn’t let go of. I know it all too well.
There’s also the logistics and legal blocks that would stand in our way. If Cade allows me to return to the company, there’s no chance in hell I can be married to a former client. A current client. Trust is our main currency at The Firm. If potential applicants can’t count on us to protect their lives and well-being, then we don’t have a job. My brother’s business will be destroyed. All kinds of suspicions would follow all of them everywhere.
The prosecution has brought out more evidence. Pictures, this time. Of the street where it happened, a yellow arrow pointing to where Quincy’s body was found. Another photo. Another yellow arrow. This is where it happens.
Photos of Quincy.
The rush of blood fills my head, and Ella’s grip on my hand tightens. I’m not going to lose control. I’m not going to sink into this firestorm of guilt and hate. I can witness it from a distance, the way I have to witness these photos. Rage slowly consumes me. Breathe. Breathe.
“Do you want to leave?” she murmurs into my ear. Both of her hands firmly around mine.
I offer her the single word although it comes out harsh and ragged. “No.” I don’t want to stay, but I’m not walking out now. I won’t walk out now. I have to face this as much as Quincy's murderer does. I have to look at the consequences of my actions. Forcing myself to restrain every emotion, I tell her calmly, “We’ll stay.”
“Okay.” Ella sounds even and sure. She’s not disappointed that I want to stay, though I do glance over at her face in profile. Should I have brought her here? She’s under the care of The Firm because her past caught up with her. Overwhelmed her.
“What about you?”
Ella’s eyes come to mine, and I don’t see an ounce of indecision there. “It’s hard to look at,” she says, keeping her voice low. “But I want to be with you for this.”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
I’m so damn grateful she’s here, and it brings back that overwhelming sense that she should be mine. In every way possible. Using the D/s relationship as the only framework for us seems like a cop-out, in a way. Saying that’s all we can have is a lie. It’s not true. There can be more. Another layer. If Ella wants it. If she really does want it, once all of this is over and she’s not in The Firm’s care. Not a minute before.
There’s a brief recess where Ella insists I eat a granola bar, and then we’re back in the courtroom for the defense to respond.
And that’s when I see this is going to be different.
Murder cases like this often have trials that stretch out for days. Weeks, even. There’s a shift in the energy in the room when we come back, the defense attorneys consulting in low voices at the front of the room. One of them approaches the bench, and the judge listens. Nods.
“What’s happening?” asks Ella. “Can you hear?”
“No. But we’ll know soon enough.”
We do know soon enough. What happens is that the defense puts the murderer on the stands.
