AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Murph will not take no for an answer, so I hang up.
I had wanted one more week to cement Anisten’s feelings for me. And with every second in her space, my own love had grown, too. So much quicker than I had expected.
I receive a text, glance at the screen, and there’s an emoji in the first message. It’s the middle finger.
Murph:You’re being such a punk-ass bitch. I understand not being able to have what you want, okay? But call me if you need me. I’m heading to the club.
I begin to pocket my phone when another text comes through. I’m positive it’s Murph and ready myself for his words about ditching him. Maybe it’s Harry since we’d been discussing the case.
It’s neither Murph nor Harry. I look at her name and picture, not opening the message, because if I don’t then maybe there’s hope. But I give in.
Anisten:I hate you for making me fall for you, then pulling it out from underneath me.
I hate me also, for falling for the woman.
Me:I miss you, too, Heaven.
I wait for a return text but when I don’t get one, I pocket my phone and pour more of my expensive tequila. Hours later, with thoughts of Anisten and our nonexistent future playing through my mind, I fall into bed.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
This shit is pissing me off. Since taking over this case, I’ve decided without a shadow of a doubt Harry Lane should have never passed his bar exam. A knock stops me from calling Luca. I want to hear his voice more than I want to tell him that his lead lawyer is an idiot, though I sure as fuck want to do the latter, too.
“Anisten, you have a second?” Penn is through my door before I can answer him. “I’m in a pickle. Something came up last minute and I have this charity ball for one of my clients. Can you take one for the team and go in my place?”
It’s not like I’ve done anything else for the past two weeks, but stay until eleven, returning home by midnight only to start my day again at five a.m.
“I have one of my gowns here, just in case, so sure, I’ll suit up. Send me the information.” I push from my seat. My eyes are crossed and my blood is boiling because of Harry Lane. I had asked to interview a few men who worked the night of the incident, and I’ve yet to hear from Harry. But a night on the town is a great distraction. I could use a good meal and a few expensive drinks.
Penn is on his way out the door. “Sorry, I only had one ticket, but if you have a plus one I can….”
“No plus-one for me, unless you count this case as my date.” I’ve barely had a chance to talk to Caroline, as my life has become this case. It’s the only social interaction I’ve had for weeks, besides talking to the idiot, Harry, and speaking to my investigator, Tuck.
“Okay, and, Anisten, thanks so much for this. I appreciate it.”
He’s gone and I pull for my silver Carolina Herrera evening gown with the plunging v-neckline and thin spaghetti straps. I slip into my dress, adding metallic gray eyeshadow and a deep burgundy blush. My matching silver Jimmy Choos are perfect.
I’m transformed in less than twenty minutes, with large curls framing my face. I order a car because I plan to take advantage of the open bar.
As I arrive at the charity event, the long drive to what looks like a modern palace is lined with cars worth more than my whole life’s savings.
“Just drop me off at the front please.” And the driver does as he’s asked. I take one step out of the car and enter a world of old money—and a fuck-ton of it.
The second I ascend the steps, servers have trays of champagne ripe for the picking, and I grab one. Entering the estate’s grand hall, the staircase leads down to an open ballroom. The glass chandelier is almost as large as the room itself and everything screams simple elegance. I down my champagne and grab another one, making my way toward the immense number of people and the open bar.
I’ve consumed another flute of champagne by the time I make it to the bar, only to hear my name. There are clients of the firm here, but I don’t deal with this caliber of people daily.
I twist my head around, and in front of me stands a handsome red-headed man in an impeccably fitted suit. It takes me a second to place him, but it all comes flooding back to me.
“Finnegan Murphy, correct?”
“Ah, the girl remembers me. Love when a beauty such as yourself remembers a commoner like me.”
A stunning woman of perfection with an olive complexion and flowing black hair joins us. “Commoner is the last thing I’d call you, Murph.”
There’s something familiar about the woman, and I can’t place it, but she calls him Murph, like Luca had.
“Be careful; between your brother and your husband, you can’t be seen with me,” he whispers to the beauty in front of us, but I hear their interaction.
