Chapter 37

Soren

Present Day

F or some reason, Daniel decided to keep the most hideous grandfather clock in his office. Calling it antique, as he did earlier, would be a disgrace. Because this clock was nothing more than an example of poor taste. It could have been better if it hadn't been for the grotesque furniture not aligning with the wall. I assumed it was supposed to be centered in order to play well with the other art pieces in his expensive office, but instead, it was positioned too far to the right, completely ruining the balance of the room.

I pursed my lips, eyes narrowed on the damn clock as I counted the passing seconds, when Daniel cleared his throat.

"Soren, have you been listening to a word I've just said?"

"Of course I have." I turned to face my beloved boss. While I did have my fair share of disagreements with him, Daniel Williams Dufort was the best lawyer to work for. Much better than my father, as it was proven time after time in court. I made a mental note to call Father and Mother to ask after their well-being before continuing to talk.

"And while I do understand your concerns, I shall repeat myself and say you've got nothing to worry about." Something occurred to me, and I cocked my head in the direction of the clock. "I mean, nothing other than this hideous clock."

Daniel sighed, leaning back in his leather chair. "It was a gift from Elliot."

Oh, Elliot . The sweet husband whom Daniel couldn't avoid mentioning in every conversation.

"Then I assume Elliot's good taste ends in fashion." The man was a model. "Because this clock is nothing but hideous," I said, earning a lingering glare from Daniel.

"Sometimes I wonder how I haven't fired you yet."

"Because I'm your best lawyer." I smirked. "It's also why you wanted me on this case, didn't you? You didn't just offer to help your son's friend for good measure; you wanted to win it. Not that I blame you. The publicity our company will get starting tomorrow will be unprecedented."

Daniel crossed his arms and studied me carefully before his poker face broke, and he smiled. "That's your problem, Soren. You think every good deed comes with a hidden motive."

"'Cause it does." I shrugged, my eyes back on the clock.

"It doesn't. We took this case to help an innocent guy."

Innocent ? Please. The only thing the prosecutor lacked was a picture of Camilo with the gun in his hand.

"But let's get back to the point. Tomorrow, the trial starts, and I want to make sure we're ready," Daniel said, his eyes focused on me.

"We're as ready as we can be. Although, it would have helped if you pulled your connection in the DA's office." Well, I did pull mine, but I was less likable than Daniel. "That snake Christian already buttered up the state's prosecutor. Not to mention he had his hand in picking the freaking judge." Christian, as in Christian W. Rogers, the victim's father, who just happened to be one of the richest men in the world. Ha . That man's wealth made me look poor.

"You'll manage just fine, as you have many times before," Daniel said, ignoring my whining.

"Of course, but it would be much better with a bit of help ." I side-eyed him, and he sighed.

"I already told you we need to keep this trial clean. We don't want any shade added to our name."

That made me snort. "Then how about not taking on the most publicized trial in the last decade? We're going head-to-head with Christian W. Rogers. Not even you can pretend his name doesn't make you lose sleep."

Daniel's face didn't give away his thoughts, but I already knew what he was thinking. It was what we all thought—this trial was going to be a bloodbath, and my job was to make sure it wasn't my client's blood that ended up on the courtroom floor.

"Soren—"

"There's no reason to worry, Daniel," I said, standing up and buttoning my suit jacket. "Because I'm not going to lose."

He shook his head, his eyes giving away his tiredness. "At least you're confident."

"I wouldn't be a defense attorney if not."

He rolled his eyes at me, which he often did. "But why are you standing? I still wanted to go over some details with you."

"No can do. I've got another meeting I'm already late for," I quickly said and got out of his office before he could complain about my attitude. We already knew I never listened to a word he said. Besides, I had an important guest waiting for me in my office. A guest I'd kept waiting for far too long.

My temporary office was on a different floor, so I waited for the elevator to arrive. Once it did, I got in. Thankfully, it was empty, and I took a moment to examine myself in the mirror. Everything was in place—from my suit to my hair, I looked as perfect as I could be. It helped ease my mind after being forced to sit in an office with that hideous clock for the last half hour.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Eleven.

I counted the floors until the elevator stopped, and I stepped out and walked straight to my new office. It was a complete change from my fifty-seventh-floor office in NYC, the one I had used for the past eight and a half years. But the same as always, Ashton Sage somehow managed to interrupt my life without even meaning to do so. With the lift of a finger or, in his case, a phone, he shifted my routine. One moment, I was working on a major case in New York, et voilà , there I was, back in LA, ready to save one of the juveniles Ashton had decided to adopt years ago. Only God knew what went on inside that head of his, and if it weren't for him making the call himself, I'd probably have refused it.

"I thought you got rid of that horrid habit," I tsked after entering my office to find Ashton biting on the tip of his nail.

The door hadn't even closed behind me, and he'd already jumped to his feet. "I've been waiting here for over forty minutes."

"Have you?" I asked, my lips curling as I moved to sit behind my desk and grabbed my glasses I'd left on it earlier.

His jaw tensed as a vivid line formed between his pinched brows. "You did it on purpose."

Cleaning the lenses, I then put my glasses on and looked at him. "Those are some serious accusations, Ashton."

Without any warning, he slammed his hands on my desk and leaned in close, his face an inch from mine. "Stop playing games, and don't call me that anymore." He pulled back at once, which was a shame because he still smelled like an afternoon breeze in Santorini. Who knew what that even meant, but it was what his scent had reminded me of ever since he'd first entered my proximity years ago.

Ashton Sage might have had the same addicting scent from when he was seventeen, but he'd definitely developed a feisty side he'd never had before. I'd encountered this new aspect of him when I first arrived here almost seven months ago. Desperate to save this kid, Camilo, Ashton went as far as to allow me back in his life. It might not be as sweet as I hoped it would be, considering the fact we were a few months in, and the only places he ever agreed to meet me were either in my office or at the courthouse, but it was something nonetheless. I left behind a boy and came back to find a man. A magnificent one, at that. A man who clearly wanted nothing to do with me, telling by the annoyance on his face.

"Fine." I lifted my hands in mock surrender. "I'll stop playing games."

Ashton studied me with a raised brow before he huffed and sat back in the chair he'd evacuated earlier.

"You said you had something important to tell me."

"How about we do it over dinner? I'm starving." I nudged my glasses to sit higher on my nose. I didn't really need to wear them, but I still did sometimes .

"No." His voice was sharp and cold, showing no evidence of the little Sparrow who was once mine. "I have plans with Kai. So hurry up and tell me what you have to say so I can get out of here."

My original plan was to tease him a bit, but now that he'd brought up the moron's name, I had a change of plans.

Taking out a pile of files from my briefcase, I slammed them on the table between us. "We need to go over these tonight, so if I were you, I wouldn't count on getting home anytime soon. So better call the boyfriend—"

"Fine," he cut in, already taking a handful of papers in hand. "What do I need to do?"

"Help me go over them to find something I might have missed," I lied because there was no way I'd missed a thing. Over the past few months, I'd gone through every paper, letter, text, or file that could have been useful for us. I went so far as to read letters that Camilo's teacher had written about him in kindergarten, all in an attempt to build a case that had almost no chance of winning. But that was the thrill. To do what others couldn't. To win despite all odds. So no, I didn't need his help, but having Ashton here for company was just a treat I spoiled myself with after months of hard work.

It was already 10:00 p.m., the trash can filled with boxes of the takeout I had ordered, and black circles had formed around Ashton's eyes—probably from reading endless testimonies for the past few hours.

"I think it's about time we wrap it up for today," I said after I decided I'd kept him there for long enough.

"But we still have about half to go." He reached for the folder I tried picking from the table. "What if we find something new? Tomorrow's the start of the trial and—"

"And we are more than prepared." I attempted to calm down the anxiety that burned in his eyes to no avail.

Ashton bit on his bottom lip and looked down at his shoes as silence erupted between us. I wanted to reach forward and brush the pad of my thumb over those plump lips. To press them hard before leaning close and licking into his mouth to enjoy the taste of him—but I didn't and instead took off my glasses and put them aside.

With a sigh, I got up from my chair and walked over to the bar cart in my office to pour myself a glass. Resisting the urge to touch him became infuriatingly difficult, to the point I was in need of scotch to ease my burning desires. Ashton not letting me waltz back into his life didn't make it any easier, and I found myself caught between the hammer and the anvil. Or, in this case, between my ex and my job. The worst part was seeing him still hanging around that monkey-man he referred to as his best friend. It would be a lie to admit I didn't hope, more than once, for the guy to get hit by a truck.

"Do you believe we can win?" Ashton asked, breaking into my sweet fantasies.

"I wouldn't be here if not."

"I mean it."

The chair moved, and I heard footsteps. When I turned around, he was already standing behind me. The fearful expression on his face reminded me of the Ashton from the past, the one I'd left behind.

"It's not going to be easy, and you'll have to gather all the strength you can find, but I'm sure we'll make it." We'd already been through this conversation before, but because I knew how gentle Ashton's heart was, I needed to make sure he understood what was about to happen in a few hours.

This wasn't just a trial. It was the trial.

"You need to understand, darling, that it's going to be ugly. Camilo is being charged with the double murder of two allegedly innocent people and the attempted murder of a kid in his class. With his record and appearance, he's already guilty in the eyes of most people." I placed my glass on the desk and walked closer to him so we stood face-to-face. "That's why I worked my ass off for weeks to have the right jurors for this trial, but the prosecution did the same." Those fuckers knew who to pick and who to dismiss.

So close to him, I wanted to place my hands on his hips. Instead, I shoved them in my pockets and continued. "Perception is everything in this trial. If Camilo looks guilty, then he is, and my job is to put the blame on someone else."

" What's the game plan?" my co-counsel asked. This was our first group meeting after being assigned to the case. I'd already gone through most of the details and gathered enough information to come up with a strategy. The only one that could work in order for us to win this son of a bitch. Pulling a picture from my folder, I pinned it to the wall in the conference room.

"That's the victim," said our private investigator, Eiv.

"Correct. Starting now, this angel-face is the star of this horror show." I tapped on the image. "In case I wasn't clear—we make this case all about Shay-Lee Christian Rogers." I looked at the rest of the confused room. "I don't care that this kid is in a freaking coma as we speak; you guys are going to dig every bit of dirt you can manage on him and bring it back to me. Am I clear?"

Of course, when I repeated my overall plan to Ashton, I reserved some of the details, but he needed to understand that this was going to be one ugly fight. Nothing about my job was pretty—nothing but the man standing in front of me.

"I see," he said under his breath before looking at me. "Promise me you're going to get him out because if you don't—" His voice shuddered, and he had to take a deep breath. "If you don't, then I will never forgive you."

My God , was he adorable.

Unable to hold back, I moved closer. His breath caught as he froze on the spot, but unlike what he probably thought I was about to do, I skipped over his lips and pressed my cheek to the side of his head, my mouth nearly brushing the shell of his ear. " Good . Because I never change my mind once it's set. And right now, it's set on winning."