Bound By Fire

Amelia The click of my heels echoed across the marble floors of Manhattan Supreme Court like a war drum. Another day, another battle. And I never lost. The cameras outside had been relentless, flashes lighting up the early morning sky as I pushed past them. The city loved a scandal, and this one was tabloid gold: Vanessa Blackwood divorcing her billionaire husband. I set my jaw, ignoring the whispering journalists trailing me in. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was my client. Vanessa was already waiting at the plaintiff’s table, perfectly styled but visibly nervous. Her fingers toyed with her wedding ring, twisting it as if she couldn’t decide whether to fling it across the room or crush it under her heel. I sat beside her, sliding a new at stack of files onto the polished wood. “Don’t worry,” I murmured. “He doesn’t stand a chance.” The words had barely left my lips when I looked up.... ...and the air left my lungs. There he was. Damian Blackwood. My pulse stuttered before roaring back to life. He was sitting at the defendant’s table, draped in an immaculate navy suit, every inch of him a weapon,sharp jawline, broad shoulders, careless confidence. And those eyes. God, those eyes. Dark, piercing, already fixed on me like a hawk that had just spotted prey. A slow, devastating smirk curved his mouth. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice carrying across the room with insulting ease. “If it isn’t Amelia Cross.” My spine stiffened. If he thought I’d show weakness, he was wrong. “Mr. Blackwood,” I said coolly, flipping open my file. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just another case.” But my hand trembled as I smoothed the papers flat. Just once. He chuckled softly, low enough that only I caught it. “Still a terrible liar.” I ground my teeth. No. I would not let Damian Blackwood rattle me again. Not here. Not ever. The judge entered, and I rose with practiced confidence, launching into my opening statement. Every word was measured, sharp, relentless. I painted Damian as manipulative, unfaithful, greedy. By the time I was done, half the courtroom was glaring at him. But when I glanced at him, he looked utterly unfazed. His dark eyes glittered with amusement, like he was enjoying the spectacle. Like I was performing just for him. The bastard. ------------------------------------------- Damian The second she walked in, the ground shifted. Amelia Cross. Christ. It had been years, and she still had the power to knock the breath out of me. Same stormy eyes, same graceful fire in the way she moved. The sleek knot of her dark hair, the razor-sharp suit, the steel in her posture, it was all armor. Armor I used to know how to peel away. I should’ve been furious she was here. My wife, soon to be ex, had hired the one woman I couldn’t look at without remembering. Without wanting. Instead, all I felt was a dangerous thrill. Her gaze collided with mine, and for a heartbeat, the air between us crackled like lightning. Then she masked it, as cold and distant as ever. She told herself she hated me. I almost believed it. Almost. When she stood to give her opening statement, I didn’t hear the words. Not really. All I heard was her voice, steady and ruthless, lashing me in front of a hundred watchful eyes. And God help me, I was proud. Proud of the woman who’d built herself into a weapon. Proud and burning with the urge to shatter that icy façade. When recess was called, I made sure I was the first out of the courtroom. I leaned casually against the marble wall of the hallway, waiting. And there she was. Her heels struck sharp against the floor, her eyes narrowed with focus. She looked past me like I was nothing but an obstacle in her way. That wouldn’t do. “Still wearing your armor,” I murmured, letting my gaze drift over her tailored suit, her hair pulled tight. “Still pretending you’re untouchable.” Her head snapped toward me, eyes flashing. “Move.” I braced a hand against the wall beside her, blocking her path. Close enough to catch the faintest trace of her perfume, jasmine and steel, exactly as I remembered. “Or what?” I asked softly. “You’ll cross-examine me until I beg for mercy?” She tilted her chin, fire blazing in her eyes. “I’ll destroy you in there, Damian. Piece by piece. Just like I should’ve done years ago.” The words hit harder than I expected. For a flicker of a second, my mask slipped. She didn’t see it, she didn’t want to. I swallowed the ache, smirking instead. “God, I’ve missed this,” I said, my voice low. “The way you burn when you’re angry. The way you burn for me.” Her breath hitched just enough for me to notice, for me to hope. Then she shoved past me, heels striking like gunfire against the marble. She didn’t look back. I stayed leaning against the wall, watching her go, a smile tugging at my lips. She thought she could bury us under ice and fury. She thought she could fight me in that courtroom and walk away untouched. She was wrong. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.