Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Now all eyes are on me.
When they offered me the position earlier today, I thought they were kidding. I quickly told them I needed to think about it, which is unlike me. This is what I’ve been working toward and why I’ve become the best. But I also feel uncomfortable at the thought that I only received an offer for this position because of him. And killing my boss is nothing I want any part of.
“Did you go over the written statement?” Mr. Luca asks me. He’s only a few years older than me and has recently taken his father’s spot on the board.
“I made a few amendments, and it’s ready to be released.” Officially, it was a closed case by the police, but as a law firm that defends some of the most high-profile criminals, we’re expected to uphold a front. We’ve made enemies before, but little do they know that the specific criminal in question is also trying to put a ring on my finger. Ridiculous.
“So cases will go on as normal, effective immediately,” Mr. Luca announces. “Have Kora’s and Matthew’s clients redistributed to the interns.” Two of our lawyers, who had been at my party, quit this morning, too scared that the very same thing that happened to Brian might happen to them.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again, and I hide my frustration.
I swear to God, if he’s sent me another email…
“Dismissed,” Mr. Luca says, and unofficially, it sounds like he might be the new temporary boss. I collect my files, irritated by my buzzing phone. When I finally retrieve it, I realize that Monica is trying to call again. And like all the other times she’s called, I ignore her. I’m not sure if she knows I know, but I have to calm myself before I talk to her so I don’t pull something my father would do and kill her.
Because I want to strangle her with my bare hands right now for lying to me.
“Rya.” One of my colleagues, Samantha, calls me over. “It looked intense in there,” she says, referring to the boardroom.
“It was,” I reply. We have only ever spoken a few times, as idle chitchat isn’t something I waste much time on at work.
“Is it true?” she whispers as she glances around us, ensuring no one can hear.
My eyebrows furrow. “Is what true?”
“You know. That Brian got shot at your birthday party, and you know the killer? Apparently, he’s super-hot.”
My sharp gaze cuts to hers. I should’ve expected as much, but I don’t appreciate idle gossip and being linked to the criminal personally. But what irks me more is how she spoke about him.
“You should know better than to objectify criminals sexually.”
She shrinks into herself. “Sorry, I just—”
“But, yes, we’d met once in passing. That’s all. I have no idea his reasons for what he did, but the police have closed the case,” I say, offering her my sharpest smile.
“Oh, that makes sense,” she says politely before quickly finding herself busy with work again. Had it been any other criminal it might’ve been easier to avoid gossip. But Crue’s too bold and uncaring of anyone who might have seen him that night. And I must keep our connection as far away as possible in case others start digging up my past. Because then I won’t have any chance of making it on my own, instead relying on my father’s name.
My phone pings again as I walk to my office.
I open the email…
Dear Miss Ricci
Don’t you know it’s bad form to not reply? I’d hate to have to do anything drastic to gain your attention.
Reply.
Crue
… and delete it, furious.
CHAPTER 9
Rya
The week was a spiral of questions, transitions, and court cases, and still, I haven’t gotten any closer to accepting the new role I was offered. In truth, I only want to focus on my biggest case to date with the Torrisi family. And my current client seriously fucked up this week. I’d told him to lie low, and instead, he went on another killing spree with some damning evidence that makes my life a living hell to defend. But I will. I’ll get him off like I did the others.
Arriving home from work, I spot Monica waiting at the entrance to my building. She’s dressed in her usual colorful clothes, and when she sees me, she smiles. After the shit I went through this week at the office, I don’t need this, but I suppose there’s no avoiding it now.
Monica tries to hug me, but I hold out my hand.
She looks baffled and steps back, arms hanging by her sides. “I’ve been trying to call and message you all week,” she says, a little annoyed. “I thought something had happened to you after last weekend.”
Now, it just makes me mad. Does she actually give a shit?