Chapter 2

The cameras outside the courtroom were hungry as vultures.

"Miss Bruce! Is it true that your star witness confessed under oath?"

"Will this humiliation ruin your father's campaign?"

Microphones were pressed into my face like knives. I pushed through, keeping my head up, my heels clicking sharply on the step, and I was boiling within.

"Counselor!" someone yelled, and I was immediately holding a bouquet. As predicted, the flowers were roses; this marked the sixteenth bouquet of the month.

I paused just long enough to stare at it, the exquisite blood-crimson petals wrapped in golden foil. No notice, no name, always the same.

I threw them directly into the trash bin near the curb. Gasps erupted when cameras falsified images. Then a murmur: "cold-hearted."

"I suppose the rumors are true," another said.

I don't care what others say about me. It was better to have ice than to be weak. But when I stared forward, my blood ran hot.

My father is on the mayor's press line. I could sense every bit of disappointment eating him, bit by bit.

Everyone had put their trust on me that I would win the case, as usual and now it has made it to history record.

He faked a smile, his body guards trying to pull him away from the crowd of press. 

I stood yards away, invisible as always. And gestured at me to come. My body shuddered, the weight of my flaws eating me up.

My father finally fixed his attention on me, hard and stern. "You looked sloppy in there. What was that?"

"I didn't…" I stammered; my voice was clipped and tight. I could see disappointment on his face.

"That hesitation at the end?" He shook his head, his jaw rigid. "You're such an amateur. Vivian didn't even pause as the senator collapsed.” His fingers brushed her shoulder as if she were made of gold.

Yes Vivian, my twin sister. She was just like me, in terms of being successful as a doctor. No patients had ever died in her hands. She was his pride, but I wasn't. No matter what I did.

My throat stung. "But Vivian wasn't up against Zeke Massimo."

He feigned a grin at his camera and said softly, "She wouldn't be losing."

I felt a twinge in my breast; despite all of my accomplishments, Dad had never shown his pride in me. He never congratulated me but instead told me that I was an amateur. I wanted to shout, but the press was still watching. Instead, I twisted and walked away, the headlights searing my back, toward the parking lot.

By the time I got home and went to my bedroom, the mask had cracked. My jacket fell to the bed in a heap, and I slammed the briefcase I was clutching against the wall.

"Fuck you, Massimo!" I yelled, and wrath flowed through me. My father's dismissal, Vivian's halo, and Zeke's sneer are all etched into my memory. Every nerve was screaming, suffocating me within.

I pulled open the bedside drawer. The vibrator shone up at me, little, sleek, and humiliating. I kept it from my family, even though I shouldn't have been embarrassed.

My hand shook when I grasped it. I lay back against my pillows and spread my knees as wide as I could, the buzz filling the quiet. My breath was quick and ragged, and my body was yearning to release the strain I was experiencing. A little pleasure would help me unwind from today's craziness.

But no matter how hard I tried or how deep the vibration was, I couldn’t think of Vivian, my father, or Daniel.

Him.

Zeke: chains on his wrists, a grin as sharp as shattered glass, and a voice like silk and sin. 

I don't bite until you beg, so relax, counselor. 

I bit my lip till it bled. "No," I murmured, disgusted with myself. He shouldn't be thinking about him; I'd never thought about someone in my life before. My friends assumed I was attracted to ladies.

When relief hit me, I exclaimed, "Fuck! Zeke…" 

A flood of shame engulfed me the moment I uttered his name. I threw the vibrator away and sank my face into the cushion. The sting and heat were unpleasant, but the victory I had hoped for was not there; rather, I was met with embarrassment.

…

As night fell, sleep became difficult. Daniel's treachery played out in my head over and over again. The way his eyes darted to Zeke, and his testimony collapsed like wet paper.

Then I realized it didn't sit well with me. Something was wrong, and it was greater than just nervousness.

At midnight, I grabbed my keys and drove back to the office. The hallways rang hollow, and the air was stale. My shoes thumped on the marble, like gunshots. My keycard let me into the records room.

Daniel's file sat in the cabinet, thick and heavy. I opened it on the desk, quickly scrolling through the pages to discover phone records, deposits, and safehouse logs. My heart raced as I searched for a reason why he broke down.

A hint of movement froze me, and the hairs on my skin raised. I was not alone. "Are you working late, counselor? At midnight?"

My head jerked up, turning to face that old mocking voice. He was there, Zeke Massimo. 

How? How did he manage to get out? He wasn't on bail, that's not possible. 

He wasn't bound or dressed in an orange jumpsuit. This time, he wore a black fitted suit with an open collar, and shadows clung to him as if he were born from them.

“How did you… who let you out?” My blood went icy. "You're supposed to be in custody. "

He smirked. “Custody is weak; it depends on who you pay, angel.”

Angel? I shuddered.

“Bribery is a crime Mr Massimo.”

As long the trial still goes on, he is not meant to leave. This was a serious offences and a threat, both him and who ever allowed him out.

“i know Angel,” he smirked, his hands in his pocket. 

“With the use of some help, I just came to see you.”

I backed a step, clutching the file. “You need to leave, or I'll…”

“Call the police?” His chuckle was low and dangerous. “Sweetheart, they wouldn’t dare answer.”

He closed the distance, smooth as a predator. I hit the file cabinet, with nowhere to run to. His arm braced beside my head, trapping me in.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered, hating the tremor in my voice.

“And yet,” he muttered, leaning close, his breath warm against my ear, “you wanted me here.”

“No!”

“Yes.” His hand slid down my arm, stealing the strength from my grip. The file slipped from my fingers, papers spilling to the floor. His other hand tugged at my skirt, pushing the fabric higher. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.

“Stop,” I whispered, my breath shaking.

He chuckled, like it was all fun and games to him. “Did you think about me earlier? When you touched yourself?”

My mouth dropped, and my skin flushed hot. How did he know? was he spying on me or what? “i…”

He didn’t let me finish. “I can smell it on you. Sweet and desperate,” his fingers brushed between my thighs. Heat shot My knees betrayed me as I pressed into his touch instead of pulling away.

“You hate me,” he said softly, his lips grazing my jaw. “But your body doesn’t.”

My breath hitched, goosebumps rising on my skin. “i’ll…”

“You’ll what?” His voice was silk over steel. His hand slid my panties aside, finding me wet. I gasped, my head thudding against the cabinet.

“Already dripping,” he chuckled. “I didn’t even try.”

His fingers pressed harder, stroking and teasing my wet folds. My body betrayed me; i was trembling, craving for more, while my mind screamed no.

I hated him. Gosh, I hated him. But the pulse between my thighs throbbed for more.

And then…

Click.

A red light blinked in the corner, and then I realized there was a camera he had installed. It had recorded everything.

Zeke’s smirk deepened. “Smile for them, counselor.”