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)
I wonder what event it might be that he so desperately needs me to attend. Knowing him, it could be as simple as going through a takeout drive-through to order, and he would still want me to wear something like this.
“No, thank you.”
I close the box and throw it under the bed. I can’t. And it’s not exactly hiding any more if he knows where I am. I’m one of the most powerful lawyers in New York. So why the fuck do I feel so weak against this man?
He is obsessed. And I’m trying my hardest to flee because I know he is no good for me. Time with him would be nothing but a beautiful disaster.
I walk into the main room and take a seat at the dining table, where my laptop is still open and waiting for me. Friday is the day I give my closing statements on the Torrisi case in court. And then, on Monday, the verdict will be announced. This is what I should be focusing on. This is the biggest case of my career. So, anything Monti or otherwise, I push away and ignore even if I have to change to another hotel in the meantime.
CHAPTER 40
Crue
It was hot and fascinating watching Rya grow jealous. But now she hasn’t replied to my emails, which I won’t tolerate.
I’m not at all surprised by how effective Dawson is. Francesca Torrisi sent a personalized invitation to their latest party celebrating Andreas’s fiftieth birthday. She had, of course, bid the most for Dawson’s company for one night. They’ve seen each other twice now.
Dawson hands me the invitation. “I’m surprised she didn’t offer you an invitation.”
He smiles. “Who do you think is escorting her?”
As expected, he takes a seat across from me in my office. “Do you think it’s smart forcing Rya to go? She’s working on his nephew’s case.”
I take a sip of whisky. “Rya’s my wife. Where I go, she goes.”
Dawson lets out a small whistle. “You, my friend, are not so good with women. And she isn’t your wife.”
“Excuse me?” I grit out.
He raises a brow. “I’m just suggesting that if a woman doesn’t return to her home in a week and switches from not one but two hotels, she is actively avoiding you.”
My knuckles turn white. “I don’t care what you suggest.”
He nods in agreement. “That much is clear.”
I take a puff of my cigar, watching the surveillance footage I have of Rya’s empty apartment.
Why won’t she just submit to me?
Am I giving her too much freedom?
I crack my neck from side to side. But she’s given me no other choice. She will be going to that party with me. So the Torrisi family knows how much they fucked up when they pointed a gun in her direction.
CHAPTER 41
Rya
The judge closes the case. The last of the questions and answers reported. The jury and the other party have already made their leave.
When I walk out, I’m greeted by numerous cameras and reporters. I flash a tentative smile.
“Miss Ricci, how are you and the defendant feeling at this time?”
I quickly shoot Matteo a look. He knows not to speak outside of the court. “My client and I are confident that what the jury has seen is fair reasoning as to my client’s predicament with his previous friend. My client was only able to defend himself, and although our condolences go out to the family for their loss, my client is also dealing with severe trauma, for which we have already drafted a plan to facilitate his mental needs.”
“And what of the new accusations of Matteo Torrisi having recently killed four other known gang members?”
My smile tightens. “Those are, of course, accusations that have already been discussed in the court room. Although the evidence isn’t clear, and I reiterate the strange timing of events considering the large deposit made into the opposing party’s bank account within a day of this incident, I hope the jury will find fair judgment in the matter.”
Why? Because I instructed Andreas Torrisi to anonymously deposit that amount immediately to take the heat off his nephew’s case.
The shine of a watch catches my eye, and my stomach drops. Leaning against his car is Crue, puffing on a cigar. Even with him wearing dark sunglasses, I know his gaze is on me.
“That’s all the questions I have time for today.” I dismiss them and walk in the opposite direction. Fuck. He can’t be here. I can’t have the press catching wind of our association. Not with this heated case still going on in the courtroom.
Security pushes the press back as we take our leave, and it’s only a matter of time before they give up and move to the second family.
“Where are we going?” Matteo asks.
“Shut up and follow me,” I hiss.
He grumbles a complaint but does as I say.