Stardust and Kisses

Shock

Aaron

My old man had been on my ass all week about this meeting. “Rony, you’re gonna go and talk to the prosecutor. She’s gonna help you deal with this shitstorm,” he kept saying. Yeah, I got it. The press was eating me alive over this scandal, but a prosecutor? Really? I didn’t even do anything illegal.

So here I was, sitting in some uptight café my dad had chosen for the meeting, stirring my coffee, staring at the door, wondering what this so-called prosecutor was going to be like. Probably some stiff in a pantsuit with zero personality. I mean, come on, a lawyer? This was going to be painful.

Just as I was about to take another sip of my coffee, the door swung open, and in walked a girl—no, scratch that—a woman, and holy s**t, she was stunning. Her face was a perfect blend of softness and strength. Her eyes, a deep shade of hazel, have this magnetic pull, like they see straight through every layer of me, both gentle and fierce all at once. There’s an intensity in them, especially when she’s focused, like they hold the weight of everything she’s been through but still manage to shine with hope. Her cheekbones are high, giving her face a defined structure that contrasts beautifully with the natural curve of her lips—lips that always seem on the verge of a smirk or a soft smile, depending on the moment. Her skin was smooth, with a warm, golden undertone that glows under the light, and every time I look at her, I’m reminded of just how much depth and fire there is beneath that calm, composed surface. She’s breathtaking, not just because of her beauty, but because of the strength she carries with every glance. She had this long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the light in the kind of way that makes you stop and stare.

She was wearing this dark green blouse, fitted just enough to show she was in shape, paired with black jeans that hugged her legs perfectly.

For a moment, I was caught up, checking her out—hard. My eyes trailed from the curve of her lips down to the way her fingers loosely held onto the strap of her bag. Classy, but in a way that made her look effortlessly cool. Who was she meeting? Not some prick like me, that’s for sure.

I kept watching as she walked up to the counter to order, noticing the way she stood with this poised, almost effortless grace. Damn, I should’ve gotten her name or at least said something smooth. I was planning out my approach when my phone buzzed.

Dad: The prosecutor should be there any minute. Don’t f**k this up.

I rolled my eyes. Like I wasn’t already here, waiting for this mystery lawyer to fix my life.

When I looked up again, the girl was walking toward me. s**t. Was she coming over to say something? I straightened up, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Aaron D’costa?” Her voice was smooth, confident. Sexy, if I’m being real.

“Yeah?” I answered, half smirking, thinking maybe she recognized me.

She extended her hand. “Heather Castro, your prosecutor.”

Wait, what the f**k? My heart sank. She was the prosecutor?

I blinked, trying not to look like a complete i***t as I shook her hand. “You’re... the prosecutor?”

Yeah, I was totally screwed—but maybe not in the worst way.