Ch. 2
1320 Words
I didn’t hesitate.
Snatched the file. Stormed out.
Down the hall. Into the elevator.
Up, up, up—until the numbers blinked to the top floor. Where the powerful sat behind soundproof doors and secretaries with perfect teeth.
I didn’t knock.
“Mr. Langley’s in a meeting,” his assistant said with a rehearsed smile. “He’ll see you shortly.”
I nodded once, jaw tight, folder clenched like a lifeline.
Five minutes passed. Then ten.
Finally, the door creaked open, and she gave me the nod.
I stepped inside.
Langley barely looked up. Just gestured for me to sit like this was a friendly chat and not a war declaration.
He was a broad man—blonde, well-fed, radiating authority from behind a mahogany desk that probably cost more than my car.
“Thea,” he said, clasping his hands. “You look... sharp. Excited to finally work on a high-profile case again?”
I didn’t sit.
“I’m here because of the case.”
That got his attention. He leaned back, brows rising.
“I won’t defend Cassian Draven.”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
I dropped the folder onto his desk like a gavel.
“It’s a conflict of interest.”
“Why? You know him?”
“I did.”
Past tense.
Painful tense.
Langley smirked. “That’s exactly why he chose you.”
I stared.
“He personally requested you,” Langley continued, folding his arms. “He’s willing to pay double your rate—out of pocket. Said you’re the only one who won’t screw this up.”
I swallowed hard. “I have other cases.”
“Give them to someone else. We’ve got a dozen hungry associates who’d kill for a case half as big.”
“I don’t think you understand—”
“Oh, I do,” he cut in smoothly. “I understand that you’ve been eyeing partner status for the last six months. I also understand that the board is watching. Closely.”
I opened my mouth to protest again. To say this wasn’t just personal.
But Langley was already typing into his computer.
“The board is aware of your history with Cassian,” he added casually. “But they’re willing to overlook it—if you deliver.”
My pulse stuttered.
“You told them?”
“They’re not fools, Thea. You were seen with him. Your name’s been whispered next to his more than once. If the prosecution gets wind of this, they’ll drag your reputation through the mud.”
He leaned in.
“So either you handle this perfectly or your career ends here.”
The threat wasn’t loud.
But it was final.
My mouth opened.
He raised a brow. “So here’s the part where you prove your loyalty. Where you show us you’re capable of handling more than parking disputes and petty fraud.”
A pause. A flick of his pen.
“Be wise, Thea. Make the right call.”
My heart drummed against my ribs so hard I half‑expected the desk to rattle. I forced a slow exhale, one breath at a time, to stop it from echoing in the silent office.
Cassian Draven had just walked back into my life…
And now he was threatening to take everything I’d built with him.
Again.
*_*
It had been two days since I was appointed Cassian Draven’s attorney.
Two days of pretending I still had a heart to protect.
Two days of preparing to face a ghost.
I didn’t expect Olivia to knock just then, peeking through the door like she could sense my pulse from across the room.
“He’s here,” she said. “Visitation room.”
My chest tightened. But I nodded, smooth as ever.
No one needed to know that my control was skin-thin.
I stood. Adjusted my blazer. Walked to the door.
Didn’t check my reflection in my phone’s camera, even though every insecure cell in my body screamed to.
I wasn’t here to impress a liar.
I grabbed the file and walked out.
The precinct felt colder today. Or maybe that was just memory trailing me like perfume.
When I reached the door to the visitation room, I paused. Inhaled.
He doesn’t matter anymore.
He can’t touch you.
You’re here for a job.
I twisted the knob and stepped in.
And it hit me like a punch to the gut.
Cassian.
In all his arrogant, infuriating, heart-shattering glory.
Still beautiful. Still dangerous. Still him.
Wearing a smug little smirk like the past didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t disappeared on me without a word. He leaned back like this was casual—like we were old friends catching up and not two people who’d burned each other to ash.
I walked toward the table. Chin high.
Pretending he was just another case file.
He wasn’t.
I sat across from him, dropped the file on the table between us, and didn’t speak.
He did.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Neither did I.”
Because coming meant I’d already lost. Again.
He smiled slowly, eyes dragging over me. “But you did.”
I said nothing.
“You look good, Thea.” His voice dropped. “Sharp. Collected. Like always.”
He leaned forward. “But I remember what you look like when you fall apart. When you begged me not to stop. Do you?”
He gave me a once-over that made my skin crawl and burn at the same time. Had he come here because he needed my help or to taunt me? How could he say these things to me while Laura waited for him at home probably in the black lingerie he liked seeing on me?
I flipped open the file. Pages. Facts. Bloodless things.
But when I looked up, my eyes caught his, and I remembered why I hated those storm-grey eyes.
Because they made me feel everything I didn’t want to.
He looked at me—really looked—and for a second, something flickered. Something dangerous.
His eyes dropped to my mouth. Just for a moment.
And before I could stop it, heat curled low in my stomach like a match had been lit.
I shut it down. Buried it beneath a wall of ice.
But it was too late. He saw it. The dilation in my pupils. The way I shifted in my seat like his voice had gotten under my skin.
His smirk deepened—not cruel, but knowing. And that made it worse.
Because he remembered.
And so did I.
I averted my gaze to the jagged line that ran from his left eyebrow to his cheekbone—like a lightning strike captured in skin. A scar from his first cage fight. His hand trembled; barely noticeable, but I saw it.
He wouldn’t admit to weakness. He never did.
“Tell me what really happened,” I said.
His jaw ticked.
For a second, I thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then, quietly, like it cost him something:
“I’m being set up,” he said.
“And if you don’t help me…” He leaned forward.
“Someone’s going to die.”
I stared at him.
At the bruise on his jaw. The tight way he held his body like he didn’t trust it to stay upright.
I should’ve been glad he was hurting.
But all I could think was:
What if he’s telling the truth?
And what if I’m the only one who can keep him alive?
“If you’re innocent,” I said coldly, “you’ll need to prove it.”
“And if I’m not?” he asked.
“Then I’ll bury you.”
I stood to leave. But his next words froze me in place.
“I didn’t just request you as my lawyer, Thea.” He smiled darkly. “I requested full access to my legal counsel. Including after-hours.”
- Writer
