CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Excitatio
“The jury pool has been selected,” Célie said on the phone while I searched for a parking spot near the office.
“Got it. I’m on my way to help. Maybe eight minutes out.”
“There’s one more thing.” Célie’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Mr. Marino is here.”
For a second, the memory of last night’s dream flooded my mind, but I pushed it aside when I realized she wasn’t talking about Marino junior.
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
I still hadn’t come face to face with Dante’s father. And I had a feeling this meeting would be… memorable.
As soon as I walked in, I spotted him through the crack in my office door—sitting there, staring at the shelf of legal books behind my chair.
“Baghdad?” It was our code for tense situations.
“About to explode,” she replied.
I straightened my suit and walked toward the office, my heels clicking with each step.
“Mr. Marino,” I announced as I entered, making him turn to look at me. Marino senior had Dante’s eyes and a large frame, as though he’d once been heavily muscled. He was taller than Dante, but despite the odd mustache, he looked like an AI-generated version of Dante in 2062.
“Signora,” he greeted me courteously, though coldly. “I think we need to talk.”
I poured us both a Scotch and sat down to hear what Mr. Marino Senior had to say.
“Candice told me you’re going to call Maressa to testify.”
“Yes, I thought it was a good i—”
“It’s out of the question,” he cut me off.
I stared at him, confused.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Marino, I don’t think I understand.”
“Maressa is just a teenager, and I decide whether she testifies or not.”
“Her testimony could help Dante. She spoke with him the night of the murder.”
“I’m sure you’ll find another way. You’re being paid well for that.”
I set my glass on the counter, swallowing the response I wanted to give.
“Of course. But I can’t stop the prosecution from calling her at some point.”
“Let me handle that, if it comes to that.”
I rested my elbows on the desk and stared at Mr. Marino, whose expression remained unchanged.
“I understand your objection and your concern for Maressa, but we’ve prepared her and—”
“Doctor,” he stood up, downed his whisky in one gulp, and left the glass on the table. “I didn’t come to negotiate.”
“Right,” I stood up as well. “I’ll handle it.”
“I’m certain you will.”
“Will you be there?” I asked, watching him walk to the door.
He stopped to look at me.
“Dante doesn’t need me there. It would only cause more problems for business,” he said, then turned and left.
I watched him walk away, feeling much more than the discomfort of having to rethink part of my plan. I felt the same mud I’d walked through my whole life. Indifference.
Célie entered the office as soon as he left.
“You mean he’s not going?” She seemed incredulous.
“It doesn’t surprise me. Doesn’t surprise Dante either.” I sat down, staring at the door. “You know what? I think I need to talk to him. Can you handle the jury for me?”
“Of course, but by the time you get there, it’ll be past visiting hours.” Célie looked at the clock on the wall.
“The director will have to make an exception.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll show him who Helena Torres is.”
The guards barely had time to react when I burst through the director’s office door. The sound of my heels echoed across the floor, competing with the commotion my entrance had caused.
“Director Vargas,” I greeted him, making his eyes rise from the paperwork in front of him. “We need to talk.”
“Miss Torres, visiting hours are over, and I’m not seeing anyone without an appointment.” His eyes returned to the paper.
I smiled and leaned forward, pressing my fingernail onto the paper he was reading.
“And I, Director Vargas, want to speak with my client now, and you’re going to let me.
” The smile left my face. “Or you can completely ignore my request and give me grounds to file for obstruction of defense and violation of the Sixth Amendment. Which will, at minimum, result in the suspension of the hearing scheduled for the day after tomorrow—excellent for your record, wouldn’t you say? ”
Vargas looked skeptical, though I could see him weighing his options.
“Braxton follows strict protocols, doctor…”
“Oh, of course. The protocols.” I straightened up and started pacing the room.
“Which ones, exactly? The ones that guarantee a defense attorney easy access to her client days before his hearing? Or the ones you’ve conveniently ignored these past few days by posting two babysitters at the door to intimidate us when we’re supposed to have private meetings without interference or surveillance? ”
Vargas leaned back in his chair.
“Look, Vargas, I didn’t complain because I know how to do my job even when every man in the room seems hell-bent on sabotaging me, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice.”
“Give me a few minutes,” he said, pulling the phone from its cradle. “Prepare Dante Marino for the meeting room.”
“See, I knew you’d rather give me what I want than hand me ammunition to make your life a living hell.” I flashed a victorious smile and showed myself out.
The guard led me down the corridor to the meeting rooms. This time, we’d scored a room without that infamous observation window.
While I waited for Dante, I slipped off my suit jacket, leaving just my button-up shirt and pants. Either the room was hot, or I had too many emotions coursing through me. The dream, Quinn’s attitude, Dante’s father. It all fed into my restlessness.
Twenty minutes later, Dante walked in. He looked me over from head to toe, the way he always did. I waited for him to sit and for us to be alone.
“I thought it would take longer to see you again,” he said.
“What happened that night?”
His eyebrows drew together.
“You know what happened.”
“No, Dante. I know the version you told the cops.” I stood and moved toward him. “I want the truth, Dante. Because I have a feeling I could get blindsided by some ‘oh, I forgot to mention this,’ and I’d hate to look like an idiot in front of the whole world.”
“I told you everything you need to know, Helena.” His gaze traveled up my body, from bottom to top, like something out of a submissive fantasy.
“Pietra Coleman,” I said, waiting for his reaction. It came. “The prosecution plans to call her.”
Dante held my gaze.
“I spoke with her… unofficially,” I explained. “She said you were different. Why?”
Dante stared at the ceiling without answering, and my reaction was more explosive than I expected. I leaned toward him and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me. He did, but there was no surprise in his eyes. Something far more dangerous.
“The games end here,” I said, my hand still on his jaw.
“I couldn’t disagree more,” he whispered.
Our faces were so close I could smell his cologne.
“You know I didn’t do this, Helena,” he said, his eyes seeming to track every shift in my expression. “You just don’t know how to say it out loud without feeling like you’ve lost your mind.”
“I need more than my intuition, Dante.” My fingers slid down from his jaw so slowly it felt like a caress. “Your father came to my office, and…”
“You knew it was going to be like this,” he said, as if reading my mind.
“The problem is he forbade me from calling Maressa,” I explained. Dante didn’t seem to grasp the significance. “Maressa talked to you that night. She could testify about your state of mind.”
“I know. But if he doesn’t want her to testify, I’m with him on that,” he said, smiling as if trying to calm me down.
“Your calmness is driving me crazy,” I said.
“I trust the truth, Helena,” he replied. “And more than that, I trust you.”
I sank into the chair.
“They found a partial DNA match… but don’t worry, I’m going to challenge the validity of the evidence,” I said. “The judge already agreed to sever the cases. That means the jury will only hear about the homicide, not about you lying to the police. One problem at a time.”
“And Pietra?”
“I’ll handle her when the time comes,” I replied. “Right now, let’s focus on getting you out on bail.”
I ran my hand over the back of my neck, damp with sweat. The room really was stifling. It felt like retaliation for barging into Vargas’s office.
“If everything goes well, you’ll be home in two days,” I said, watching him adjust the handcuffs chafing his wrists.
“Why are you here at this hour?” he asked suddenly.
“It was a long day.”
“And the best place you could think of was a prison almost two hours from your house?” He smiled when he realized he’d caught me. “I don’t judge you, Helena. I’d run to you if I could.”
I didn’t respond.
“You don’t have to answer with words.” His eyes roamed over my face. “You know, Helena, I’m good at reading body language. Took a course over the summer.”
“While other kids were catching waves in Hawaii, you were studying body language?” I teased.
“It’s useful with girls.”
“It’s not like you have any problem with that,” I shot back. “You should see the pile of letters in your mailbox.”
“And unfortunately none of them are from you, right? I thought after the first one we’d established something, but here we are—you meeting me late at night, staring at me while lying to yourself that you came here because you needed to update me on the case.”
“Is that what my body language is saying?”
The corner of his mouth curved into a smile, as if he were savoring the words before delivering them.
“Your body language has a much dirtier mouth, Doctor.”
The suffocating heat of the room seemed to burn my flesh from the inside out, painting my face with a flush that Dante drank in with his eyes.
“Want me to tell you what I think you’re doing here?”
“You know what? Go ahead. Enlighten me with your wisdom.”
Dante leaned over the table in an unmistakable display of dominance. Something he seemed to do well and with pleasure—dominating spaces and conversations, carving out a path to lead me down.
“Come closer, so I can read you better,” he said quietly.
I obeyed, feeling the pressure of his eyes mapping my movements, marking his invisible control with an almost disturbing silence.
“I see you, Helena.”
He said it not as if speaking to the Helena on the surface, but like someone searching for a response from somewhere deeper.
“You probably haven’t slept well in days, but you don’t let anyone notice. Maybe you’re dealing with so much that it’s affected not just Dr. Helena Torres… it’s touched something deeper. Something that made you doubt whether you could really keep her under control in there.”
His voice seemed to bounce off the concrete walls and find its way in. A path he seemed dangerously accustomed to exploring. A vulnerability in the shell, a crack in the armor.
“I know how it feels. What it’s like to know there’s another version of yourself that could simply destroy a city if you let it loose.
” He was touching me, even though his hands were still bound to that damn chain.
“And looking at you like this only makes me more obsessed with the idea of seeing her, but you won’t let her out. ”
“It’s not like we should.”
“And yet it’s what we want most, isn’t it?” His voice was almost a whisper. A confession, a breaking of the vow I’d silently made not to cross certain lines.
I put space between us. I needed air. Air that didn’t feel contaminated by Dante’s poison.
“Promise you won’t fuck up my case in court?”
“It’s the only thing I can promise not to fuck, Helena.”