Chapter Five
Cassie
Vance Roderick makes my skin crawl. It’s something I can’t put my finger on. Not because of what he’s been accused of. Stalking, assault and attempted kidnapping, which he vehemently denies. His brother is married to a partner, so he’s getting special treatment.
Being the daughter of an MC enforcer, I’ve had it ingrained in me to trust my gut. And I’ve inherited the ability to read people from my mom. I will never show being near him bothers me. I’ve worked with far worse people in my time. And I’m a professional.
When they asked me to be second chair on his case, it was made clear I couldn’t say no. They want a woman as part of his defense, to give the impression women can be around him. I’m the only lawyer here able to give up some time to assist.
My case load consists mainly of small civil lawsuits because most of my time is spent working for the MC, an understanding I have here.
It’s unfortunate there is currently no major shit going down at the Devil’s Chaos. Not that I will ever wish for there to be trouble. Not after what happened last year.
Still, I would give anything for something crazy to happen at the clubhouse. Maybe I should call Waverley and ask her to speak to Hudson about having someone arrested. Nothing major, something that would get me out of this.
It’s going to be a god damn media circus too. They’re going to parade me out in front of the cameras to prove women can work with him. To prove he isn’t a sleazy bastard who’s terrorized more than one woman. And, I’m pretty sure, done worse.
The criminal case didn’t hold up because he paid people off, now the victim is bringing a civil case against him.
Not for the first time, I think about quitting. My job here has been my lifeline for so many years. I don’t hate the MC, I don’t hate my family, but they’re not normal.
Some small part of me wants to cling to this alternative life where the people are never touched by violent crime, or unhinged men that engage in criminal activity without a care.
I made my bed, I will lie in it. This job keeps me sane. Until now.
My boss has never sexualized me, or made me feel less than the rest of the lawyers who work here. In fact, he knows how fucking good I am at my job, which is going against me in this situation.
I’m a good lawyer, with the aesthetic they want. They don’t want some vapid stand in to try to make him look good. I’m being penalized for my excellent record and skills.
Although if anyone cared to look even a little under the surface, they’ll find out I’m related to criminals.
They don’t want to hear that. From my understanding, Vance took one look and chose me. Like I should be fucking grateful or some shit. God, I hate men.
Vance is a decent-looking guy, wears a suit well, and he’s charming. He’s also got a lot of money. He’d have to, to afford this law firm. It’s easy to see why women are attracted to him and want to be around him.
Like the good old boys they are, Harry, my boss and Vance are currently talking about some real estate deal he’s a part of, so I take the time to study him.
He’s not my type. Too perfect, too coiffed. He has an air of rich prick that hovers around him like a bad smell. I wouldn’t let Vance Roderick touch me with someone else’s dick, never mind his own.
Looking back at Vance I contemplate my hypocrisy. I defend criminals, it’s my job. But the loyalty to the Devil’s Chaos MC is an entirely different animal.
What they do is illegal, but I turn a blind eye. Mom always told me, as long as they’re not killing innocent or good people then my conscience can rest easy. Sometimes it’s not that simple.
Yes, they sell weapons and ammunition and on the face of it, that doesn’t involve them in anything that happens once the guns are in other people’s hands. But without them moving those guns from hand to hand…
I could go crazy thinking about that chicken and egg scenario.
King paid to put me through college with the intention of keeping me on the payroll and I agreed to it. It’s the life I was raised in. I may have some moral dilemmas about it, but they’re family.
So do I do it? Do I admit defeat and leave this legitimate job?
Days like today fuck with my head. It’s this creep that’s got me all mixed up. As soon as this case is done, I’ll go back to being blissfully compartmentalized.
Reading Vance’s case file and the victims’ statement made me sick. He’s terrorized and left a woman scared, all for his own amusement and self-entitlement. Yet they want to spin it to blame her.
And I have to defend this guy? Shit.
“Cassie?”
I look up from my legal pad. Harry is waiting for me to say something. It’s a good job I can multi-task and had one ear on their chatter while suffering an existential crisis about my life choices.
“Of course,” I tell him. “I’ll set up the depositions for next week.”
“Excellent,” Harry claps his hands together. “If we can get them all locked in by the end of next week. We need to line up the psychologist as well. The easier we can prove her poor mental state before she met you, the better.”
“Great.” Vance smiles.
Pricks, both of them, plotting how to make this woman look like there is something wrong with her when the real monster is sitting at this table looking like the cat who ate the canary.
“I’ll get right on it,” I gather my things to leave.
“Cassie?”
Just his voice makes my skin itch, I never said it was okay for him to refer to me as anything other than Ms. Beillo.
Plastering on a fake smile, I look at our client. He’s leaning back in chair with an insolent smile on his lips. His eyes flick down to my chest and back to my face.
Where some others may titter at the attention, or cower from the blatant sexual interest, I stare back.
“I really appreciate everything you’re doing. Harry tells me you’re one of the best lawyers here.”
“That’s kind of him, but everyone here is an excellent lawyer.”
“I love that you feel that way.” He licks his lower lip.
I try not to throw up in my mouth.
“Maybe we could have dinner, to discuss the case.”
“I’m sure Harry’s PA can set something up for all of us,” I say with a tight smile. “After we’ve got through the depositions maybe.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
One glance at Harry and I can see he wants me to do this. To go to dinner with this pervert. There is a line, and they’re both trying to push me across it.
“Let’s say I’ll focus on your case, keeping your money safe, then we’ll talk about that.”
Harry’s sharp intake of breath tells me he didn’t like that one bit. Vance smiles, showing his pearly white teeth like a fucking shark.
“Good idea,” he smirks. “A celebratory champagne dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. I’ll hold you to that, Cassie.”
He’s picturing holding me somewhere, that’s plain as day on his face.
Without saying anything further, because I really don’t trust myself, I nod at them both and leave.
Laura my assistant, follows me into my office and leans back against the door.
“Proud of you.”
“For what?” I set my files down and rub my eyes.
“Not hurling him out the window?”
That makes me smile. Laura understands. She’s read the case files.
“Can you believe he asked me to dinner?”
She huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “Uh, yeah. What did you say?”
“I invited Harry along.”
“Nice. Anyway, that’s enough air talking about that pencil dick. What do you need me to do?”
We go over who I need to depose and Laura jots everything down saying she’ll set it all up. I try not to think about their plan to undermine the victim’s credibility. But it stays with me long after I head home.
I’m not a quitter. But I may end up doing something that gets me fired if I don’t make a choice.
Once I’ve changed into comfier clothes, I grab a bottle of red wine and a glass and sit on the couch, pushing work from my mind. This place is my sanctuary, I don’t want to let him in here.
Silence has never bothered me. My family are loud and thrive in crowded places. Living at a motorcycle club will do that to you. Not me. I avoid going there as much as I can, only calling in to see Waverley, or when there is business to deal with.
There is an entirely different reason I’ve avoided the clubhouse so much lately. A southern, tattooed, six-foot-three-man sized reason. It still makes me so mad knowing I gave into my base urges with Handlebar. I can’t even blame alcohol.
It was all about him. He’s one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on. A real dichotomy from the bikers I grew up around. Sure, there are a handful of good looking guys there, but Handlebar is on a whole other level.
Even the other guys give him shit about it.
More than once I’ve heard some of them calling him Pretty Boy instead of Handlebar.
From personal experience, I can wholeheartedly say, he is not a boy.
And I don’t particularly like calling him by his road name.
I’m not going to even try to unpick why that is.
Regardless of what we did and our mutual guarded interest, it wouldn’t work.
The thing about Eli is he’s secretive. I know nothing about him. Other than he’s hot, and an absolute master in the bedroom. Who would have thought I’d let any man dominate me? But the soft southern accent and the way he put his hands on me turned me into Jello.
Thinking back on our one night together my body begins to tingle. A pull in my lower belly signals how turned on I’m getting from remembering that night.
Whenever I’m at the clubhouse, I’m aware when he is nearby. His eyes follow me everywhere I go. At first, it irked me. It was one night, he should get over it and move on. Now I find myself looking back. Wondering what it would be like to act on the attraction that has by no means dissipated.
If Waverley had her way, I’d have hooked up with him long ago, and probably more than hooking up. She’s kept my secret, Waverley is good like that, she’d never betray anyone’s trust.