"What the hell is your problem?" Dario barked as he stepped out of the Porsche, yanking off his shades.
Leighton tried to get up, gathering her things and brushing off her clothes.
"Do you want to get yourself killed? You peasants just love milking insurance fees from the rich lads around here."
"Excuse me?" she shot back, sharp as glass.
"What?" he sneered. "Says the chicken who couldn't even cross a road without getting hit."
Her jaw tightened. "I could have you arrested, mister. Traffic rules exist for a reason. You don't speed through a zebra crossing like it's a racetrack." she said through clenched teeth. This man in front of her had pushed her to the edge.
The bystanders began murmuring. Phones were already out, recording. He looked her up and down.
Dario's gaze raked over her, his lip curling. Who does this woman think she is? Talking back to me? He frowned. That coat… familiar.
"Hey, I know you," he muttered. His eyes narrowed. "You're a lawyer."
"That's none of your bloody ass business." she snapped.
"You're from the bar. You're stalking me. I'm calling my lawyer right now." He dug into his pocket for his phone.
Leighton blinked at him, baffled. Those green eyes, the perfect hair, the arrogance. Her gaze slid past him to his license plate just behind him.
'DM' it read. And in an instant, it clicked.
Her palm cracked across his cheek before she even thought about it. His designer shades hit the ground. Luca lunged forward, blocking her from striking again, though he avoided laying hands on her.
The crowd swelled closer. Dario held his burning cheek, stunned but then his lips curved into a slow smile.
"Guess we'll be adding assault to your charges." He lifted his phone.
"I'd say we're even, you moron." Her voice dripped venom.
"Watch your mouth, miss," Luca warned.
But Dario lifted a hand. "Let her be." He turned to his men. " I told you not to follow me. You're dismissed."
Luca and Rico exchanged glances but obeyed, retreating to the black Mercedes that sped away.
Dario turned back to her, his tone suddenly smoother. "My apologies, miss. Why don't I drive you home?"
"No." The word came, sharp and cold.
Oh.
His smile faltered. She started walking, though she clearly limped.
He caught her wrist. She gasped, glaring. "Don't make me hit you again."
He released her at once. "You're limping," he said flatly.
"I know."
"At least let me take you to a hospital."
Hospital. More Bills. Debt she couldn't afford. Her insurance had expired, and one more fracture would ruin her.
"Fine," she exhaled. "But not the hospital. Home."
A slow smile spread across his face. Without another word, he gathered her bags, and together they left the gawking crowd behind.
++++++++++++++++++
The glass door slid open.
A wave of rich oud and vanilla perfume swept into the room before she did. A dark-haired woman in her late forties, sharp brown eyes glinting, stepped in. She wore a fitted white suit that screamed authority, and in her arms, a tiny chihuahua lounged like royalty.
Adrian shot to his feet the second he saw her.
"Salve, signora."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze skimmed the office.
"Ciao." She didn't spare him a glance. One flick of her wrist, and her bodyguard moved to guard the door.
She crossed to the desk and dropped a file with a soft thud. A picture was pinned to the cover.
"Do you know this man?" Her Spanish accent wrapped around the words, heavy and unmissable.
Adrian leaned forward, adjusting his glasses.
"Yes. That's Victor Esposito" he hesitated, "He's your lawyer. He represented you in the last trial."
"I hear the retrial is next week." She stroked the chihuahua's fur without looking up.
"That's right."
"I want him off the case." Her eyes snapped up, sharp and cold.
Adrian's throat went dry. "Uh…yes, of course. We'll do just that" He tugged at his collar. Was it him, or had the office suddenly gotten hotter?
"Good." She lifted her chin. "And I want you," her finger cut through the air toward him, "to represent me."
"Me?" His brows shot up.
"And the intern." She rose from her chair, smooth and unhurried. "I hear she made remarkable contributions last time."
"Yes, ma'am." He straightened instantly, tugging his glasses higher.
"I'd like to meet her soon." She let her fingers glide down the dog's back. The chihuahua yipped as if echoing her command.
"For tea, perhaps."
"I'll see to it," Adrian said, bowing slightly.
Her lips barely curled into a tiny smile as she swept out of the room, her guard close at her heels.
The moment the door shut behind her, Adrian collapsed into his chair with a desperate, unsteady sigh.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
The drive was silent. He pulled up in front of a gas station.
"I'll be right back," he said softly. She only nodded.
He stepped out, fueled up the gas tank, and entered the convenience store, probably to grab some painkillers or maybe an ice pack.
She slowly breathed out as she watched him exit, her eyes floating back into the interior of the car. It was black and ominous, the same way his mood was. That is when she saw the glove box that was half-open.
Her curiosity prodded. She yanked it open, and a simple white file fell on the floor with a soft thump. Papers spilled out, tiny inscriptions she could barely decipher, and a photo that caused her chest to tighten..
But it was the dark red stain on the edge of the folder that froze her. Her fingers trembled as she lifted it. She brought it closer and sniffed. Metallic. Blood.
And not old. A day at most.
Her pulse kicked. She flipped through the documents quickly and her stomach dropped. These weren't just any papers. They were the missing evidence from a case her firm had been investigating before it was mysteriously buried weeks ago.
Heart racing, she snapped a few photos with her phone, then hurriedly shoved everything back inside. She had just pushed the glove box shut when…
Tap. Tap.
She jumped, whipping her head toward the window.
Dario was standing there. Watching her.
+++++++++++++++
"You good?" Dario asked as he slid back into the car, shutting the door. His eyes stayed on her.
"What?" she shot back, half-annoyed, fighting to sound casual.
His brows furrowed. "Chill, I was only asking."
A smirk tugged at his lips as he looked away, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot.
The rest of the ride was heavy with silence.
"Here." She nodded toward the tall, white-painted apartment building.
Fair enough, he thought.
The car rolled to a stop at the gate.
"May I come in?" His brow arched.
"No, don't bother." She forced a smile.
"Here…" He handed her a paper bag, but his eyes caught something on the floor. A photo.
"What's that?" His voice sharpened, still staring at the photo.
Leighton followed his gaze. Her chest clenched.
"This?" Her brows shot up as she quickly lifted the paper bag she'd set down.
His eyes flicked to it, then away. In that split second, she shoved the photo under the seat.
"It's your shirt. Sorry I'd taken it earlier this morning."
She tossed it onto his lap, grabbed her belongings and the bag he'd offered, and bolted out of the car.
"Thanks for the ride," she said with a quick grin before darting into the building.
Inside, she shut the door, locked it, and sagged against it, breath shaky. Then she peeked through the window.
He was gone. Relief flooded her.
That was too close. Way too close.
Dropping the bags, she picked up the one from Dario. Inside: a few meds and an ice pack.
The sting in her leg reminded her of the earlier accident. She limped toward the bathroom, opened the drug cabinet…
Knock. Knock.
She flinched. The pill bottle slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor.
Her pulse hammered.
Quietly, she reached behind the sink, pulled out a gun, and limped toward the door.