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I like taking people by surprise, both inside and outside the courtroom.
My lips curve in a sardonic smirk. “Me.”
“What are you doing here?” She searches around the IT department as if it’s her fortress and I broke entry into it. Or maybe she’s looking for an ally. Unfortunately for her, there is none.
The best way to crush someone? Leave them with no way out.
“Did you really think you could run away and I’d just forget about it?”
“Well, you should.”
“Just because I should, doesn’t mean I would.”
Her lips twist, and I assume it’s because she detected the sarcasm in my tone. “We have…nothing to do with each other.”
“I fucked your virgin cunt and made you scream until your voice turned hoarse, not to mention, the marks I left all over your pale skin. I’d say we have something to do with each other.”
She squirms visibly, and it takes her a few gulps to speak. “Even if that were the case—”
“Even if? Why are you acting as if it wasn’t real?”
“It’s in the past. It means nothing.” Furious determination laces her sweet, soft voice, and I don’t know which pisses me off more: the fact that she’s determined it means nothing or that what happened holds no significance to her in the first place.
“I haven’t agreed to that.”
“I don’t think your agreement is of importance.”
“I would argue otherwise. After all, I’m the only one at Weaver & Shaw who knows your real name, Anastasia.”
She releases a long puff of air. “It’s not—”
“Don’t utter that lie or you won’t get away with it this time.”
She blinks slowly, letting the sandwich fall to her lap. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth. All of it. And that includes your real name, true appearance, and your purpose for being here.”
“Jane is the only name I have. This is my actual appearance, the other one was fake. As for my purpose, I’m really just trying to work to keep food on the table.”
She’s still lying. I can tell when someone is, even if they’re perfect at it like she is. Usually, people give themselves away with tics or out-of-character body language, but she was completely still and calm when she uttered those lies.
Either she’s practiced them for a long time or she’s so used to lying that it doesn’t faze her anymore.
“That doesn’t look like working to me.” I motion at the screen behind her, where she has a Google page open with my name at the top.
She throws the sandwich aside and clicks something on the screen that makes it go black.
My smirk widens. “You’re not so subtle for a stalker.”
“I’m not a stalker.”
“Then what was that I just saw? If you want to know more about me, all you have to do is ask.”
“I’m only doing my research on all of the firm’s employees.”
“You should study law. Your impeccable lying skills would come in handy.”
“No, thanks. The profession suits shady people like you.”
