Chapter 2c - Molly

“What’s that?” Dad asks, peering over my shoulder at the phone screen. "Well, what do you know! He's certainly not too hard on the eyes, huh, sweetie?"

I sink back into my chair as my parents’ eyes remain trained on me. The Declan Shaughnessy wants to have dinner with me? It's almost too much to process.

Mom squeezes my hand again. "So? What do you think, Molly?"

I take a deep breath. "I think ... that I need to find something nice to wear."

Dad whoops triumphantly and pulls me into a bear hug. As I return his embrace, my mind is spinning. I can't believe this is happening.

“Okay, calm down you two,” I say as I tap at the computer. “He was in the courtroom today sitting on the defense side. I need to check this guy out before I sit down to dinner with him.” I pull up a few articles on him and begin skimming the documents as my parents look on. After a few minutes I say, “On the surface, he appears squeaky clean - the respectable owner of a successful private security firm and import/export business based out of New York. No obvious criminal ties or red flags.”

Mom places her hand to her breasts, breathing a sigh of relief.

“But I know there's more beneath that polished veneer. Men like Declan don't just hand out hundreds of thousands of dollars without expecting something in return,” I comment, my eyes still fixed on the screen. “The fact that he's the cousin of the defendant, Finn Ferguson, sheds some light on his motives.” I turn to my dad. “If this "gift" is meant to influence the outcome of the trial, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. I’m not sabotaging the prosecution's case so dear cousin Finn can walk free.”

Dad gives me a disarming look. “Darling, he said dinner, that’s all he’s asking for.”

I stare back at the screen. “What choice do I have? Fine, I’ll go to dinner with this guy.” I shrug. “What harm is there in one dinner?”

Dad pats my shoulder. “Smart decision, baby girl,” he says, smiling like he’s not the reason I’m in this predicament. I rise from the sofa, hug them both, and head home.

As I crawl into bed that night, I can't help replaying the charged interactions between Declan and me in the courtroom. What might have been if he were anyone but who he is. Such fantasies are useless now.

Tomorrow I'll be cordial but guarded. Never forgetting his cousin is on trial for murder and that he may be looking for any way to compromise the trial. No matter how dashing he may be, I know his true nature. This chivalrous act is just a facade.

As I finally drift off, Declan's handsome face flickers through my dreams. I tell myself it's only one dinner. I'll enjoy the free meal and save my family in the process.

But even as I think it, my devious little heart imagines what it would be like if dinner turned into … breakfast in bed.

****

"I shouldn't be here."

My heart pounded as I stood outside the door of Declan's penthouse hotel suite. What was I doing? This could be dangerous - I knew that just from the few charged moments we had shared in the courtroom. And yet here I was, about to have dinner alone with him.

After everything Declan had done for my family - paying off my father's crippling gambling debts, getting the loan sharks to back off my brother, even helping my parents avoid foreclosure - how could I refuse his invitation? I owed him more than I could ever repay. But accepting dinner with a relative of the man I was prosecuting? Though there were no clear ethical lines being breached, this was certainly a dark gray area.

Still, the pull I felt toward Declan was undeniable. From the moment our eyes locked in that courtroom, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The power he exuded, that raw masculinity and animal magnetism - it called to something primal within me.

I knew I should turn and run. Instead, I raised my hand and knocked.