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I flicked a glance his way, and instead of letting him get a glimpse of the worry and uncertainty coursing inside me, I glared at him. “Do I get my phone call now, or are you still withholding my rights?”
Shit. Why was my voice so hoarse?
“You’ll get it in due time, Morelli.”
“Due time, my ass. I’ve been here for three hours. You and your cronies are keeping me from getting counsel.”
“Are you so ready to change out of your designer wear and into proper prison gear?”
“What I think is that you had a shady judge sign off on a warrant, and know the minute I meet with counsel, they will have that warrant shoved up your ass.”
“You’re pretty confident for a woman whose fingerprints are all over the victim's penthouse.”
All over? No fucking way. That was impossible.
The queasiness grew in my belly, but I held it together, pushing it back under layer after layer of my smartass side. “Did you check how many other women have their fingerprints all over his penthouse? He likes women and men. Maybe you need to go to detective school again.”
He narrowed his gaze. “For a moment, I almost felt sorry for you. My partner believed this beef the DA has with your father and brothers is why you’re here. His theory was that he went after you to get back at the rest of the Morellis.”
Wait, what? This wasn’t about Keith or his murder but about Dad. The DA came after me to stick it to Dad.
My heart sank. Going after me wouldn’t make a difference to Dad. In the long list of his children, I ranked at the bottom with Lucian when it came to favorites.
“Let me guess, you’ve changed your mind.”
“I think you may be guilty as charged.”
“How can I be guilty when I don’t know how he died?”
He narrowed his eyes and then scoffed as if I was an idiot. “You expect me to believe you don’t know what murder weapon was used on the victim? Next, you’ll say you don’t know when the incident happened.”
Oh, I’d figured out when it happened. Keith’s demise occurred all while I was busy working behind a sewing machine at a place designed to protect the victims of people like Keith Randolph.
“Might as well fill me in on both since you’re accusing me of murder?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. The DA is the one who pushed for your arrest.”
“Whatever. I want my phone call.”
“Calling your family won’t help you in this situation. Maybe you should call one of your clients the media says you do tricks for in your high-end fashion world. Or that lover of yours. Pierce. He’s tied to your brother, from what I hear.”
My heartbeat accelerated as I thought of Damon Pierce and the devastation in his green eyes as officers pulled me away from him during my arrest. He’d fought as hard as Lucian to reach me before other police grabbed and restrained him.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, we’d come together as Damon and Sophia, Dom and submissive. There was no more running for either of us, no more fighting what we felt for the other. He’d claimed me. I was his, and he was mine.
And now this.
“What makes you think I plan to call him?”
Ignoring my question, he continued monologuing, “He’s another slick one, a bit more on the straight and narrow. No one heard or seen him do anything illegal, per se, but most of us have our gut feelings. For such a reclusive guy, he sure knows a lot of influential people.”
“Is that why you are denying me due process? You’re afraid of Damon Pierce and the power he wields?”
“You think too highly of the men in your life. Get comfortable, sweetheart. We’ll let you know when it’s time for that call.”
He walked away without a backward glance.
I clenched my teeth and covered my face with my hands.
