Chapter 3~ Court Visits
1198 Words
DOMINIC’S pov
Mondays weren’t usually court days for me.
They were for cleaning up messes. Meetings in cigar-laced back rooms. Quiet threats behind louder smiles. Blood-stained paperwork the cops would never see. But I'm changing all that. Slowly.
Today, I left everything to Kade.
My second-in-command looked at me like I’d lost my mind when I told him I was stepping out for the day.
"Something wrong?" he asked, adjusting the files in his hand, the ink on the page still fresh from the job before.
"Nothing urgent," I replied, slipping on my gold Rolex with practiced ease.
The one my father gave me after I cleaned up my first real problem—when I was still too young to legally drink. "Handle the clean up. Don’t let them breathe suspicion, and if the shipment from Prague lands early—"
"I'll make sure it doesn’t make noise."
"Good."
I grabbed my keys from the marble counter, the weight of them familiar. My SUV was waiting downstairs, polished black, not a speck of dirt daring to stain it.
"Where are you going, boss?"
I smirked, sliding on my sunglasses. “Court.”
Kade blinked. “You’re… going to court?”
“Let’s see how good Lena Vescari really is when she’s not under me.”
I didn’t wait for the reaction. I didn’t need to.
---
The drive was smooth, the city was boring as always. The perfect atmosphere for crime. Criminals are actually and the other folks couldn't be bothered.
I didn’t belong here. Not officially.
But no one stopped me either.
The courtroom was cold, even by my standards. Designed to chill the nerves of men who had something to hide. I took a seat in the back, slipping into the shadows like I was born there—because I was. My eyes scanned the room once, then settled on her.
Lena Vescari.
Back straight. That dark energy wrapped around her like armor. God, she looked like a bullet in a silk suit. Precision and destruction wrapped in curves and control.
She slid into her seat like a queen taking her throne. The judge acknowledged her with that tight, fearful nod reserved for people he couldn’t quite tame. She returned his formality with a smile sharp enough to bleed.
“Always a pleasure,” she said, voice like crushed velvet.
I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.
This wasn’t about Costa. It was more than that and she couldn't see it—yet.
Raffaele Costa was a walking dead man pretending to be a prince. This trial wasn’t about him—it was about buried in history.
I watched as she flipped through the pages of her notes, already tearing apart the prosecution’s foundation before they even opened their mouths.
Then as if she sensed me.
Her head turned slightly—eyes scanning the room until they found mine.
I nodded once. Like an old friend. Like I hadn’t had her fingers tangled in my hair less than ten hours ago, having her whisper my name like a curse and a prayer.
She didn’t nod back.
Good.
One-night stands weren’t supposed to follow you into federal courtrooms.
But this wasn’t about mistakes. This was about leverage. About watching the most dangerous woman I’d ever touched work a room that didn’t deserve her.
The judge called the court to order. The prosecution rose like they were preparing for battle.
I didn’t blink. My focus never left Lena.
They started speaking—a whole lot of graceful rubbish, the thought they could get away with words.
Talking about organized crime like they’d ever seen real fear. Citing surveillance and tapped calls like those couldn’t be buried in a single hour with the right bribe.
I didn’t care about their evidence.
Lena sat there like stone, unbothered. Her mind was five moves ahead, I could see it. She was already ripping them apart in silence. Calm. Calculated. She made checkmate look like foreplay.
They called their witness—some spineless thing named Santos. Said he saw Costa at 11:45 outside a club.
Lena stood.
And the courtroom changed.
Her heels echoed. Deliberate. Slow. The sound didn’t just carry—it commanded.
She addressed the judge with a voice so cold, making it clear she wasnt her to play games. The prosecution looked nervous, sweating even under the AC.
She approached the witness with that smile—sweet, deceptive.
“Funny,” she said. “Because security footage shows the club closed at 11:30.”
I felt my lips twitch.
Not a smirk. Something closer to pride.
She didn’t even raise her voice. Just laid the facts down like daggers. The witness started sweating, his confidence crumbling like ash.
And when she leaned in, eyes sharp, voice low—
“But please, by all means, tell us again how you saw a man outside a locked building with no lights, no people, and no functioning security systems. I'm all ears.”
Boom.
Silence.
God, I liked the way she moved in a courtroom. Like a predator circling prey too stupid to realize they were already bleeding out.
The judge tried to interrupt. She shut him down with a polite nod and finished the kill. Then turned. Heels clicking.
And that was it. Countdown over.
She walked past the prosecution with enough grace to make them feel small. And when she sat—her eyes flicked to me again.
I didn’t hide the smile this time.
She looked like hated that.
Even better.
---
The judge called for a recess. People began filing out. I remained seated, waiting for the right moment. She gathered her things slowly, like someone in control of every second.
Then she turned to leave.
That was my cue.
She didn’t look at me until I spoke.
“Ms. Vescari.”
She turned. Carefully. Composed.
I was standing by the double doors like I’d always belonged there.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said. Cold. Sharp. Just the way I liked it. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? Like... anywhere but here?”
I chuckled low. Let it vibrate just enough to get under her skin.
“Couldn’t miss your performance. You’re quite the show.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I aim to win, not entertain.”
“Why not both?”
She tried to brush past me. Her shoulder touched mine. Electricity. History. Chemistry. All of it too damn recent.
“Walk away, Dominic,” she warned. Low. Dangerous. “Before you end up in a courtroom seat you can’t slither out of.”
I stepped closer. Breathed in the scent of her—fire and secrets.
“Careful, Lena,” I whispered. “You don’t know which side of the courtroom I’m sitting on yet.”
She glanced at me, just once, eyes sharp as ever.
And then she walked away.
Didn’t look back.
I didn’t follow through the front—attention wasn’t my kink. I slipped out the side, cutting through the quieter back hallway and stepping into the main corridor where the crowd thinned.
I made it to my SUV before the rain began.
That's when I remembered the flash drive.
- Writer
