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I believe that people have different facets to their personality. But I never would’ve guessed that Mr. Bennett, the prosecuting attorney who tried to imprison my father, would be the same man who also possessed a degree of chivalry.
Or that he’d execute it on my behalf.
Chapter5
Calista
“Holy fuck,”comes Harper’s whisper. She takes up the space beside me, a poor substitute for the power that Bennett left in his wake. “Did that just happen?”
I nod, still unable to form words.
“You were right,” she says. When I pull my gaze away from the door and look at her, Harper grins. “He’s totally just another asshole in a trench coat.”
I make a face at her, but she’s already rushing back to the coffee machine to fill a previous order. It takes three deep breaths for me to find my voice and another one to actually use it.
“Welcome to the Sugar Cube,” I say to the next person in line. “Give me a second to clean up the mess. And please tell me you don’t want a panini like the other guy.”
The woman in front of me, a college student around my age, giggles. The lighthearted sound fractures the tension hanging over me like a hammer to a mirror. I smile at her, clean the counter, process her order, and move onto the next customer as if the incident with Bennett never happened.
Only it did.
I can’t stop thinking about it throughout the rest of my shift. Did he recognize me from my father’s trial, and that’s what prompted him to step in? Or did the lawyer come to my rescue because that’s who he is as a person, a man willing to help someone in need?
Part of me wants to talk to Harper about it, to hear her perspective and see if it resonates with me. However, we’re slammed, and there’s no time to chat. Most importantly, I’m not ready to discuss the trial. If my friend watched the news, she’d already know about the scandal surrounding my father, but not the rest of the details.
I replay the recent events with Bennett in my mind again and again, trying and failing to answer my unspoken questions. The only indication that Bennett remembered me was when the customer said that I was “just some chick.”
“You’re wrong.”
The lawyer’s words flit through my mind like a caress to my psyche. No matter how much he attacked my father’s character and made me feel uncomfortable in court, Bennett’s voice never failed to stir something inside me. I’m not sure if it’s the deep timbre of his voice or the way he speaks with such conviction that it leaves no question as to whether or not he’s confident in what he’s saying.
So why did he imply I’m not just some random woman? He and I have never spoken other than when I was put on the stand during the trial.
That was an awful experience. For me, at least.
“Whew,” Harper says, blowing out a loud breath and fluttering the copper strands resting on her forehead. “That rush was insane. There were way more people than usual.”
I turn around to face her and lean against the counter, gripping the edge. “I thought the line would go down, but it just kept getting longer.”
“Well, no one’s here now.” She gives me a pointed look. “Spill the tea before Alex gets here.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Seriously?” Harper folds her arms over her chest. “You might be able to fool other people with your ‘good girl act,’ but I’ve worked with you almost every day since you got this job, and I know when you’re hiding something.”
“Mr. Bennett is a prosecuting attorney.”
“And?”
I frown at her. “And I met him when my father went to trial.”
“Oh.”
“My father never killed his secretary and was found innocent of all charges,” I say, my words rushing from me, tripping over each other in my haste to convince Harper. “I swear on everything, he was a good man.”
“Anyone who raises a kind person like you has to be,” she says, her gaze softening. “If you say he was innocent, then I believe you.”
“It’s not just my opinion. The judge declared him as such.”
