1. Evgeny #4
She rests a hand on her hip and gives me the same look she probably gives her grandkids when she says, “That was one time, Ev. One time.”
I laugh as she walks off. Ignoring her advice, I stay until it’s dark outside my windows and my stomach is growling for more food.
Caleb left a couple of hours before me, so the suite is dark as I walk down the hall before locking up.
The floor is much the same, everyone else having gone home hours ago.
It’s not unusual for me to be the last one out, so when I hit the underground parking garage, the overnight security guard barely looks up to give me a nod.
Aside from my car, the garage is empty, and as soon as I’m behind the wheel, I place a to-go order at my favorite Mediterranean place.
After I’ve picked it up and my car is filled with the tempting aroma of feta cheese, lamb, and falafel, I drive to the carriage house I had converted into a home three years ago.
It’s on a side street, which affords me privacy that most don’t get in the city, and the unassuming outside means it’s not flashy enough to catch most people’s eyes.
Stopping in front of the restored carriage doors, I push a button and wait for it to slide open so I can pull my Audi into the first floor garage.
Without a sound, the doors quietly shut behind me, locking me in to the impenetrable fortress I’ve created.
The brick exterior is just about the only thing I’d kept.
Everything else was gutted, updated, and transformed into my own private oasis.
Grabbing my supper, I ignore the elevator and take the stairs instead.
I’m antsy from sitting at my desk all day and craving the exercise.
The stairs open onto a spacious open floor plan, and every second I spend in my home makes me feel a little more relaxed.
The place is three levels, a fully done basement, and there’s a rooftop terrace with a hot tub and pool that I swear I’m going to use one day.
Even with neighbors hemming me in, the place was designed to give me the utmost privacy.
Ten-foot brick walls surround the small backyard, and mature trees were planted to obscure the large windows.
Not that it matters much. They’re bulletproof and designed one-way.
I can see out and sunlight can get in, but no one standing outside can see into my home.
Dropping my briefcase by the counter, I set the bag of food on the nice island that only ever holds take-out containers and pizza boxes and grab a plate from the cupboard.
I’ve just filled it to overflowing when my phone rings.
Annoyance flits through every cell in my body as I grab it and check the number.
It’s no one I know, and when I answer it, I make no attempt to keep my irritation hidden.
“Mr. Nikitin, you’re a hard man to get ahold of,” a deep voice says from across the line. “Your paralegal refused to give me your number.”
“Then he did his job well,” I say. “Who is this?”
“Sonny DeMarco.”
Even though he’s the last person I’d been expecting, I can’t say I’m surprised he’s managed to find my number and call. Men like him don’t like to be told no. Too bad for him I don’t give a fuck.
“I believe you were already told that I’m not taking your case, so I’m left wondering why you felt the need to waste your one phone call on me at eleven at night.”
I hear a huff of annoyance before he says, “I need a lawyer.”
“There are hundreds to choose from.”
“I want the best,” he says.
“You’re not going to get it. I’m unavailable.” I grab a fork and stab into my salad, letting him hear me chew while I wait for him to speak.
“This is a very unwise move, Mr. Nikitin.”
“Unwise how?” I ask around a mouthful of falafel.
He grunts, refusing to fall into my trap of threatening me on a recorded phone call. “Nice try,” is all he says. “I’ll give you a day to change your mind.”
“Don’t waste your time. Find another lawyer, Sonny.”
He hangs up right before I toss my phone aside, and then I take my plate to the couch.
Finding a random sitcom, I put it on while I finish my supper, but it’s not much of a distraction.
My mind is too busy going over every detail of the case I have tomorrow.
I’ve been assigned Judge Matthews. Out of all the judges, he probably hates me most, so it should be a real fun day.
Once my plate is empty, I turn off the TV and head upstairs.
I pass the home gym and office before stepping into my bedroom.
The king-size bed is a welcoming sight, but I ignore it and head for the large bathroom instead.
I always sleep better after a hot shower, and I’m hoping this one will magically flip a switch and get my brain to quiet down.
When I crawl into bed, I’m exhausted and five a.m. is going to get here far quicker than I want it to.
It takes a long time before I finally drift off to sleep, and it only feels like seconds before my alarm is waking me back up again.
With a groan, I shut it off and hope like hell Judge Matthews is in a good mood.