CHAPTER 3 – Close Call
1244 Words
Lara woke up before her alarm, staring at the ceiling in the pre‑dawn light.
The texts from yesterday looped in her head:
Don’t trust him. He’s dangerous. Leave him while you can.
She had laughed it off at first. A prank, probably. Some paralegal with a bad sense of humor or maybe one of her classmates jealous of her internship. But the messages didn’t feel like a joke. There was something sharp about them, personal. Someone was watching.
At five a.m., she gave up on sleep, got dressed in her best navy suit, and left her tiny apartment while most of Manhattan was still asleep. By six‑thirty, she was at the office, the hum of fluorescent lights and faint smell of cleaning products filling the otherwise empty space.
She powered up her laptop, flipping through deposition notes, trying to ignore the tight knot in her chest.
---
The elevator dinged at seven sharp. Adrian walked out as if he owned the building and everyone in it. Perfect charcoal suit, black silk tie, hair perfectly in place. Even at this hour, he looked like he was headed to a photo shoot, not a deposition war.
His eyes landed on her immediately. “Good. You’re early again.”
Was that approval? It sounded like surprise.
“I wanted to review the Helix documents before court,” she said, holding up her notes.
A subtle curve touched his lips—not a smile, exactly, more like he’d found something mildly interesting. “Prepared. I like that. Come with me.”
---
The small conference room on the thirty‑ninth floor was icy from overworked AC. Adrian moved fast, placing files in neat stacks while she followed with her laptop. His questioning style was relentless: rapid fire, unexpected hypotheticals, all delivered with an edge that made Lara sweat.
She scrambled to keep up, flipping through case law and highlighting relevant sections. But when he suddenly asked, “What’s the single weakest point in their testimony?” she didn’t flinch.
“The merger date inconsistencies,” she said. “Their witness timeline conflicts with the shareholder minutes from last quarter. If we push there, they’ll have to backpedal.”
Adrian paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “You caught that?”
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t even shake this time. “If we press them on those minutes, we undermine Clause 14’s reliability entirely.”
For a second, something unreadable passed over his face—approval? Curiosity?—before he leaned back in his chair. “You might actually be worth the headache.”
Lara blinked. Headache? That’s… a compliment, I guess? Her pulse jumped anyway.
---
At nine, Adrian stood, adjusting his cufflinks with quick, practiced movements. “Coffee run. Come on.”
She blinked. “Coffee run?”
“We have court in thirty minutes. I need caffeine. And you need to look alive.”
---
The cafe across the street was buzzing with morning chaos. Adrian ordered a black coffee—of course—and raised an eyebrow at her chai latte.
“You’re one of those people.”
“What people?”
“Ones who drink tea and pretend it’s coffee.”
“It has caffeine,” she muttered.
“Barely,” he said, sipping his drink.
Her lips twitched despite herself. Was he… joking?
They stepped outside, conversation dying as a delivery van barreled around the corner. Tires screeched, a horn blared, and a large box tumbled from the open back, heading straight for her.
Lara froze, heart hammering. Before she could even move, Adrian grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. The box slammed onto the pavement where she’d been standing seconds earlier, exploding open—office supplies scattering across the sidewalk.
Her breath came in short gasps as she looked up. Adrian was still holding her wrist, his grip firm but not painful, his face close enough for her to see faint flecks of gold in his otherwise dark eyes. For a brief, impossible second, the world felt quiet—just the thud of her pulse and the warmth of his hand on her skin.
“You okay?” His voice was low, almost soft, but carried weight.
“I… yeah. Just…” She blinked. “Wow.”
Adrian released her immediately, scanning the van as it sped away. “Idiots. People like that shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel.”
“You—” Lara swallowed hard. “You pulled me out of the way.”
“You were frozen. I don’t like interns dying on my watch.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. Interns dying on his watch? Is that… humor? She managed a faint, “Thank you.”
“Come on. We’re late.”
---
In court, Adrian shredded the opposing witness with surgical precision. He moved like a predator, asking questions that left no room for escape. Lara sat beside him, frantically taking notes, but every so often her eyes drifted to his hands—the same hands that had pulled her out of danger—and her pulse spiked.
By the time they left, she was still a little shaky. She checked her phone, hoping for a distraction. One new message. Same unknown number.
I warned you. He’ll drag you down with him.
Lara stopped walking, nearly colliding with a passerby. They know about the accident. Her gaze flicked toward Adrian. He was already ahead, scrolling through his phone, completely composed.
How would anyone know? Was someone watching us?
---
Back at the office, she dropped into her chair, trying to focus on notes, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “Get it together,” she muttered.
A voice cut through her thoughts. “Talking to yourself already?”
She looked up. A tall man with sandy blond hair leaned against her desk, smirking. She recognized him from yesterday—a junior associate named Rick Carson.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Relax.” He grinned. “I’m just surprised you lasted this long. Most interns quit after their first week with Velez.”
Lara frowned. “Why?”
“Because he’s a nightmare. Demands perfection, chews people out for breathing wrong, and…” Rick leaned closer. “He has a reputation.”
“What kind of reputation?” she asked cautiously.
“The kind where people either worship him or hate him. There’s no middle ground.”
Before she could reply, Adrian’s door opened.
“Monroe, in my office. Now.”
Rick winked at her. “Told you.”
---
Inside, Adrian didn’t look up from his laptop. “Tomorrow. Seven again. Bring every deposition note you have. And…” he finally looked at her, eyes unreadable, “don’t daydream in court again.”
Her cheeks burned. “I wasn’t—”
“You were. Focus, Monroe. The courtroom isn’t a place for distractions.” His gaze lingered a beat longer than necessary before returning to his screen.
Lara left quickly, heart hammering for no good reason. Outside, the evening air was cool, sharp. She’d just stepped onto the sidewalk when her phone buzzed again. Same number.
You got lucky today. Next time, you might not. Leave him.
She froze, knees weak. Whoever this was, they weren’t guessing anymore. They knew. They were watching.
---
Lara clutched her phone, scanning the street, but no one looked suspicious. Whoever was sending the texts wasn’t bluffing—they were close.
- Writer
