Chapter 41

Soren

I 'd just finished talking to the few reporters waiting for me at the entrance to the courthouse when the roar of a motorcycle whizzed in my ear, making me turn around. On the side of the road, not too far from us, a red bike stopped with two passengers.

One of them got off, and I knew who it was even before he took his helmet off. After years of being obsessed with every bit of him, I recognized Ashton by body language alone. Bitterness overtook me when the one giving him the ride lifted his helmet shield. Not that it took a genius to guess it was Kai driving my precious Ashton on this death machine.

"No more questions," I bitterly told the reporters before walking past their crew and into the building. Stopping before the security line, I looked at my watch. There was still a bit of time before I needed to meet my team, so I could afford to wait for—

"Good morning, darling," I oozed at Ashton, who just walked in, his eyes pinned on the floor.

Jerking his head up at my greeting, he seemed shocked for a mere moment before the frown I was familiar with appeared on his face.

"What do you want, Soren ?"

"Keep saying my name that way and I might just think you're unhappy to see me."

He responded with a deep glare that earned a chuckle from me.

"It was a joke, Ashton."

"Since when do you joke?" he hissed as we took our spot in the line for security.

The line moved slowly, which was perfectly fine because I enjoyed looking at Ashton's back.

"I can feel you staring," he rasped.

"Can you?"

He grunted, half turning to look at me while also moving along as the line proceeded. "I hate it when you play games. So stop it."

I would have stopped if it weren't for how cute he looked with that frown.

"How did you come here today?" I asked, and he rolled his eyes.

"So that's what this is all about. You saw Kai giving me a ride?"

We finally reached our turn, so I took out my phone and briefcase and put them on the table for a security check, my eyes not leaving Ashton as I did.

"Maybe."

"I can't believe you two," he muttered before walking through the metal detector.

"What do you mean?" I followed him but was stopped by one of the guards, who decided to place his hand on my chest.

"Wait for your turn," he warned me as if I were some child.

"Will do." I glanced down at his hand, which, for some reason, still hung on my chest. "Do you mind?" I was running out of patience because while this moron was holding me back, Ashton had already moved on.

The officer finally removed his hand and then asked me to walk through the metal detector once more before I was free to go.

"What did you mean earlier?" I asked Ashton after catching up to him.

"You and Kai are acting like children, thinking I have the time or energy to play games with either of you." He paused his walking and turned to look at me. "You keep dancing around me like this whole thing is some sort of a game. It isn't, Soren. I'm not here to play. I'm here to get my kid out of the trouble he's in, and it would help if you stopped with the act."

Now, I was truly curious. What did Kai do to piss him off? Being familiar with Kai's type, I assumed he acted like some jealous airhead. Which probably explained Ashton's short temper.

"I have no idea what games you're referring to." I flashed him a toothy smile. "All I wanted was to wish you good morning and to say I would rather you not ride that death-on-wheels machine."

His expression dulled. "Wait, so this is because of the motorcycle and not because of Kai?"

Twisting my lips, I looked around the busy hall. "Well, I would much rather you not waste your life with him, but yeah." I moved a hand over my suit. "I don't want you to get on those things."

Ashton snorted, taking a step back. "You're un-fucking-real."

"Language."

"Seriously?" His face scrunched up. "You're not in the position to tell me what I should or shouldn't do."

This rebellious side of him rubbed me the wrong way because whenever he gave me this attitude and refused to do as I said, I wanted to spank him. My dick also shared my urge, as it just twitched in my slacks. Wonderful . The last thing I needed prior to getting inside the courtroom was an erection. Yet, instead of stopping myself as a sensible man would, I proceeded to push.

With a step, I closed the distance between us and leaned close enough to hear the sound of his soft breath. "When you answer me like a little brat, I can't help but wish to place you over my lap and treat you accordingly," I whispered so only he could hear me.

His lips parted, and his cheeks took on a beautiful shade of red.

Satisfied with his reaction, I straightened up. "Now, then, should we get going? We have a busy day."

I had undoubtedly overstepped the line with Ashton earlier, but his newfound rebelliousness reminded me of my forgotten desires. Who was I fooling? My feelings for him were far from a thing of the past and were still a burning flame in my frozen heart. Even now, as I found myself interrogating a crucial witness in this case, I couldn't help but yearn to turn around and catch a glimpse of Ashton in the audience.

I knew exactly where he was seated—second row, third seat on the right—but I tried to convince myself that I wasn't that consumed. The urge to delve into this new, unexplored side of him was like a ticking time bomb, threatening to push me over the edge with each passing day. What would happen when the time ran out? Seven years ago, I had barely escaped with my life.

"Objection, Your Honor," Jones, the leading prosecutor, called in that annoying voice of his.

"On what grounds?" the judge asked, tired of Jones's nonstop objections ever since I put Dion on the stand.

"Hearsay, Your Honor."

Rolling her eyes, she waved her hand. "Fine. Sustained. The jury may ignore this last statement." She moved her eyes to me, "Now, then, Mr. Dane, please continue."

"With pleasure." I smiled at her before turning back to my witness.

With a mischievous smirk and good looks, one could never suspect the man currently sitting on the witness stand to be a crime lord. And yet, that was precisely what Dion Bianchi was—one heck of a mobster, with half the institutions in this country dying to get him behind bars. Being good at his job , no one had so much as a parking ticket on him. Of course, they'd tried to get him for years, and he'd been on trial on several prior occasions. But, thanks to his wonderful lawyer, who happened to be me, Dion was still a free man.

Representing Dion in the past might have seemed like a conflict of interest, but my prior representation of him was unrelated, and I followed all the necessary procedures, such as informing the judge ahead of time. I also didn't plan on revealing anything that fell under our attorney-client privilege. Of course, Dion had tried to get away from being a witness by claiming just that, but sadly for him, his request was denied.

"So, let me see if I got it right," I said, my body half facing Dion, who still smiled from ear to ear. He was either amused by the situation or trying to hide his true emotions. Knowing him for quite some time, I'd bet on both. "You say you were involved with the victim for, give or take, five months?"

"Yes," he answered with a smooth voice.

"And you admit to having a sexual relationship with the victim?"

"You know how weak I am against temptation." He winked.

"Answer my question, Mr. Bianchi."

" Yes . We slept together." He then looked behind me. "In fact, I can't even recall the amount of times we had sex."

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dion looking directly at Camilo.

Since I had no time for his games, I cleared my throat.

"And yet, you weren't exclusive. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

I smiled at him. "But you did want to be in an exclusive relationship with the victim. Isn't that right, Mr. Bianchi?"

"Objection! Leading, Your Honor," Jones, the moron, called, but the judge overruled his objection, leaving Dion to answer the question.

"Mr. Bianchi?"

"I wouldn't say that." He shrugged.

Going back to my desk, I took a paper from it and stood in the middle of the court. "We got clear orders that whenever Mr. Rogers attended the club, we had to inform the boss. He'd ask to clear his schedule, and he'd get mad if he missed him." I read the words written in black and white before handing it to the judge as evidence. "So, as you see, some of your employees beg to differ. So how about I ask you again, and this time, you'll answer me?"

Dion crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "Fine. So I might have wanted more."

"And did you act on it?"

He pulled his shoulders. "Maybe."

"Would inviting the victim for a vacation in Italy count as doing more?" I handed the judge another piece of evidence, proving me to be right.

"Yes," Dion hissed.

"So would it be safe to assume that you found it irritating, to say the least, that the victim was romantically involved with the defendant? Who also happened to be your employee at the time."

Dion bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw twitching. I knew the only way to get to him was to hurt his ego, which was almost as big as mine.

"That's ridiculous," he huffed. "Why would I ever be jealous of an employee?"

"Maybe because it reminded you of the time you worked for your father?"

Dion's eyes widened, and I saw danger crossing them right as Jones yelled another objection. I didn't care that it was sustained because I'd already gotten what I needed.

An angry Dion.

"So, could it be that you and the victim weren't, in fact, a couple by the time the crime was committed?" I navigated my question carefully, already knowing Dion's facial expressions were giving me what I needed.

"I will tell you what I said before." He sounded irritated. "A week before that shit happened, Shay-Lee came to me ." He hissed that last word, his eyes glancing at Camilo before going back to me. "First, he mentioned that he was done with Diesel, and then he went on and on about how much he regretted wasting his time on him."

"Isn't that convenient?" I swirled my finger in the air. "For months, Camilo and the victim were inseparable, which you were aware of. In fact, we have records of texts between you and the victim, in which he is clearly writing that you have no chance with him whatsoever." I air quoted because those were Shay-Lee's exact words. "Then, all of a sudden, after the victim was cut off financially, as it was already proven earlier in this trial, he came to you and asked for a place to live?" We'd managed to show that Shay-Lee was cut off by his dad, but Christian explained it as he was worried about his son's growing use of forbidden substances.

"Yes, that's pretty much how it was," Dion answered flatly.

"And it didn't feel off?"

Dion forced a smile. "No."

Now, it was my turn to flash him a toothy grin. "Sounds to me like Camilo and Shay-Lee set you up, and you fell for it. Because not only did you give Shay-Lee a place to live, but you also spoiled him with gifts to buy his love. From a twenty-thousand-dollar cat to a brand-new car, you attempted to buy what you knew you'd never have—his attention."

The vein on the side of Dion's neck popped, and he looked at me with murderous eyes. Knowing I had to push, I went on.

"Would you agree that you aren't too surprised by what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

"So would it be reasonable to assume you figured it out yourself?"

"What are you implying?" he hissed.

"That after you found out Shay-Lee was using you, you decided to get even with him. But things went wrong when he wasn't alone at the house."

He leaned closer to me so we were face-to-face. "I have an alibi."

"No one said you did it yourself. After all, you've got people working for you."

"Objection, Your Honor! Counsel is harassing the witness," Jones called just as I pushed back from the stands.

"Sustained."

I turned to face the court, a comfortable smile on my face.

"All I'm saying is that there's a reason to doubt the prosecution's version of events, which finds Mr. Bianchi to be nothing more than a witness. While, in fact, we should question why Mr. Bianchi is not a possible suspect."

"Objection!"

God, he sounds like a parrot.

After I got permission to go on, I moved closer to Dion.

"So, what do you have to say in your defense?"

"That I did no such thing. I wouldn't waste a bullet on a whore ." He tilted his head, eyes moving to Camilo's. "That's what he was, and you know it, too."

I was ready to respond to Dion's words when Camilo beat me to the punch.

"You son of a bitch!" he shouted, eyes pinned on Dion as he tried to stand up. With his hands and legs cuffed, he fought off the guards who tried to restrain him. The judge called for order and for Camilo to sit down, only for him to ignore her. Chaos erupted in the room, reporters already taking pictures and recording the event. This utter disaster ended with the judge dismissing Camilo from the court and calling it a day.

While seeing my client being forcefully removed from the court wasn't ideal, seeing Eiv's and Charlie's faces was. From the knowing look in my team's eyes, we all shared the same thought: the jurors were starting to see the cracks in the prosecutor's case. But my satisfaction from getting what I wanted was soon erased as I crossed paths with Ashton, and the anger burning behind his green irises told me I was in deep trouble.