CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Praemunitio
Celie was sitting on my bed while I got dressed in the closet that still hadn’t been set up.
“Planning to unpack before your first year is up?” she teased, eyeing the pile of boxes in the corner of the room.
I made a face.
“I don’t have time for that right now,” I replied, buttoning my shirt in front of the mirror.
“Dante is sucking you dry.”
If only.
“I think I regret pushing you to accept,” Celie admitted, and I watched her through the mirror.
“You didn’t push me.” Maybe a little. “But the truth is, this experience is going to change everything.”
“Is your dad talking to you yet?”
“I was there yesterday. He’d sooner shake hands with the devil than wish me goodnight,” I said.
“How does it feel being the family disgrace?” Celie joked.
“Like I’m seventeen again and we just got caught smoking pot.”
“Oh God, don’t remind me,” she said, blushing as she laughed.
I wrapped the scarf around my neck, tying it in a bow.
“That scarf is beautiful,” Celie said.
I touched the delicate fabric that had arrived yesterday by messenger. A gift from Maressa that Dante had made me accept, convincing me it was actually something he’d wanted and Maressa had simply carried out.
My phone, sitting on the nightstand, started vibrating.
Celie’s eyes darted to the screen.
“It’s from Braxton,” she said, and I froze. It wasn’t unusual for Celie to answer my phone when we got calls from there.
My heart pounded as she picked up the phone.
“Here.” She walked toward me, holding out the phone. “I’m off duty today.”
She smiled.
I didn’t want to answer, not with her here.
I could control what I said well enough, but there was no way I could keep a straight face the moment Dante started teasing me.
“I just remembered something!” I said suddenly. “I think I left my favorite earrings on the kitchen table, or maybe on the desk in the living room. Can you look for them while I take this?”
“Sure.”
Celie left, and I brought the phone to my ear.
The recording had never seemed so slow. I kept glancing at the door.
“Unless you’re dying, I can’t talk to you right now,” I whispered.
“I can pretend I’m having a heart attack.” Dante’s voice sent shivers through me. “Or maybe start a good fight.”
“This isn’t the time to play around, Dante,” I scolded, keeping my voice as low as I could.
“I’m not playing around, Doctor.”
“My partner is here.” I went to the door to check.
“Ahh, so it’s like we’re hiding in the closet playing seven minutes in heaven?”
“I have no idea what that means, but we have seven seconds at most before she comes up here and asks why I’m getting personal calls from my client,” I said impatiently.
“I can imagine your reaction, having to explain something you don’t even have the courage to say out loud, and”
“Dante. Get to the point,” I cut him off.
“I called to ask you to bring me a book.”
“I won’t have time to buy anything. Do you want me to ask Maressa to arrange it?”
“No. It has to be you.”
“And what do you want to read?”
“Your latest read.”
I looked at the book on my nightstand.
“No way.”
“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
It was worse than bad.
“What are you reading?”
“A self-help book.”
“You don’t seem like the self-help type.”
“Lee, I can’t find the damn earring!”
I heard Celie shouting from the bottom of the stairs.
“Célie, I think it's in my purse. Look in there,” I shouted back.
“You're putting off your partner to talk to me? I'm flattered.”
“I'm hanging up.”
“What are you reading? No lies,” he warned. “Or I'll have to play hardball.”
“That's blackmail… any judge would agree.”
“Good thing I have the best law firm in Heritage,” he replied.
“Bye, Dante.”
“Don't try to fool me, Helena. Bring the damn book.”
He hung up, and three seconds later Célie walked into the room.
“I give up.” She held out the purse toward me. “I searched everywhere and couldn't find it.”
“Forget it. I'll use a different one,” I said, slipping the book from my nightstand into the purse without Célie noticing.
Before heading to the prison, I decided to stop by my favorite café for an iced coffee to cool the heat running through my veins. I've been taking dangerous steps in this case, and I still haven't decided what that makes me, but I know exactly how it makes me feel, and for now that's enough.
“One Iced Toasted, please,” I told the barista.
The place wasn't crowded, and I sat down to wait while she prepared my coffee.
“You're Dante's lawyer, aren't you?” I turned to find a young woman with pin-straight black hair, wearing stylish, light-colored clothes. A typical mountain resident. “Maressa showed me a photo of you. Sorry. I'm Claire Petrov.”
Petrov. Of course. I'd seen her once before. The Petrovs were an influential family from Alta Ridge. She and Dante were probably friends. Maybe even dating.
“Dante is a great friend of my sister's, and we've gotten closer in recent months. How is he?”
“As well as can be expected,” I said, picking up the coffee the barista had set on the counter.
“Can I see him?” No.
“His visits are limited.” Dante's presence in Heritage had been causing quite a bit of chaos at Braxton, so we weren't allowing anyone besides family. “It might be difficult.”
“Could you mention my name and see if he wants to see me…” She smiled pleasantly.
“Sure,” I replied, forcing a smile.
“Thank you so much.”
I nodded and headed toward the door, feeling her eyes on my back. Claire Petrov was exactly the type of girl I'd imagine hanging around Dante. Young, rich, good schools, expensive clothes, athletic body, and an air of someone who drinks gin and listens to Taylor Swift.
I was more the type who listens to Bob Dylan and drinks whiskey on the rocks with a twist of lemon when feeling daring.
“You shouldn't compare yourself to them,” I repeated to myself, looking in the rearview mirror.
Dante entered, his eyes landing on the scarf around my neck, then on the book on the table.
“Didn't think you were the Grey type,” he commented, pulling the book toward him.
Damn the moment I rescued Anastasia from that moving box.
“This is going to be interesting.” He raised an eyebrow, nodding at me. “What page were you on?”
Dante opened the book to the bookmark I'd unfortunately forgotten to remove. A crooked smile spread across his face—the look of someone who'd found exactly what he expected. He took a deep breath, his lips moving as he read the lines aloud:
“His hands slide over my breasts, and I take a deep breath as his fingers circle and begin to massage them gently but firmly. I arch my body instinctively, pressing my breasts into his hands. (…) It's such a turn-on knowing that it's my body that makes him feel this way.”
“Focus, Dante,” I scolded. “I have a friend looking for your companion. A private detective. But we still haven't been able to find her.”
“You won't,” he said, flipping through the book. “She's very discreet, and that's why she's so good.”
“For your sake, we need her to show up,” I said. “Let's pick up where we left off yesterday.”
I opened my notes and checked what we'd managed to cover yesterday.
“How did you sleep last night?”
“Fine,” I said simply. “I don't know if Will is going to put you on the stand yet, but if he does, you need to be prepared because he's—”
“Will?”
“Prosecutor William Quinn.”
“Are you two close?” Dante's eyes immediately lost interest in the book.
“We grew up together.” I adjusted the scarf around my neck.
“And you dated?”
“My relationship with Prosecutor Quinn doesn't affect my judgment on the case, if that's what you want to know.”
Dante smiled.
“I’m not worried about your judgment.” Dante crossed his arms. “Just curious about the kind of guy who catches the eye of someone like Helena Torres.”
“I like the ones with clean records,” I shot back, and he seemed amused.
He shifted in his chair and straightened up.
“I think we should stop getting distracted and get me ready. I need to clear my name.” He winked and pulled the notes closer. “What do you need from me?”
Dante threw himself into the prep work, and we spent about an hour reviewing potential questions. Célié and Joseph were preparing our witnesses. I felt like I’d found the right tone for Dante’s defense.
“So my goal is to use the system itself to get you released while awaiting trial.”
“And do you really think that’s possible?”
“I think it’s the best move right now. You have a good track record, a permanent address, witnesses willing to vouch for your character, plus public appeal,” I explained briefly. “I’ll offer to have your passport confiscated and agree to electronic monitoring.”
“You mean I’ll be stuck at home,” he grumbled, drumming on the table.
“I can leave you here a bit longer,” I countered. “I think that big guy out there will miss you, anyway.”
I pointed to the giant guard waiting outside.
“Dante, I know it’s a horrible situation”—I moved my hand closer to his, almost touching his fingers—“but we need to take small steps so we don’t lose momentum. Trust me and let me do my job.”
His fingers wrapped around mine, and I realized this was the first time we’d actually touched—even if it was brief, and I pulled away quickly.
“I trust you, Helena.” He let my fingers slip from his grasp. “Irrationally, I’m willing to put my life in your hands.”
“Dante…” I whispered, a clear plea for him to stop.
“Helena… it’s as if every moment with you is déjà vu—a comfortable yet strange memory. A place I’ve been before and long to return to.”
“This is inappropriate.”
“But it’s not a lie.” His eyes held mine. “Is it, Doctor?”
Dante filled the space around us, making the room feel small. Making me feel wrapped in his aura, unable to leave.
The sound of the guard knocking on the door pulled us back to reality.
“Our time’s up,” I said quietly, gathering our papers.
“See you tomorrow?” Dante asked.
I stared at him.
“Look, I’ll be busy going over my questions and the opening,” I said, clutching the folders to my chest. “But I’ll ask Joseph to bring clean clothes and toiletries. We need to leverage your fanbase a bit and make sure the public is watching.”
I walked to the door.
“Helena… I—”
“Dante… let me do my job,” I pleaded before fleeing to the hallway. Fleeing from the way he looked at me. From how easily I could predict the words about to leave his mouth.
I just couldn’t flee from the chaos eating me from the inside out. Dante was a temptation for a Helena I’d sworn I’d buried deep within myself.