Chapter 4
Catherine
To say I was in a shitty mood was an understatement.
My workload had increased, another case piled on top of what I was already juggling. I’d even had a strange phone call after noticing what appeared to be a car following me. I’d thought about reporting it, but knew I’d be laughed at.
I’d finally convinced myself that after the near attack, I was experiencing the heebie-jeebies. Another part of me had been unable to get thoughts of my savior from my mind. I’d allowed him to walk away without doing my job as an officer of the law.
What in the hell had gotten into me?
At least today’s agenda was light, the upcoming three-day weekend something I desperately needed.
I was late, the alarm clock on the fritz and a headache consuming my frontal lobe, which required copious volumes of coffee. I had yet to acquire that, so I was extra cranky.
At least I’d finally managed to replace my phone, the geeky clerks at the Apple store less than helpful when telling me that my warranty period had expired.
Thinking of the phone brought back the only decent experience I’d had in weeks. All coming from a stranger I’d crashed into on the street. A familiar face even though I hadn’t been able to place him. Extremely handsome, incredibly well built, and totally off limits.
What I did know was that staying away from him was probably the best idea. At least he’d admitted he was a bad man. Who did that? I bit my bottom lip, swearing his rich scent lingered even after several days.
Wishful thinking.
I’d been able to smell his arrogance, let alone the suit he’d been wearing had cost more than I made in a couple of months. Then there’d been the issue with his bruised hand. Oh, well. At least he’d allowed me a smile when I’d had few over the last few weeks.
Sighing, I knew I had to get my mind on the ball. Maybe I’d issue a restraining order instead. No, that would likely cause members of the press to ask what was going on. Ugh. Coffee. Then a clearer head.
With no appearance in court today, I could spend time preparing for upcoming cases then be out the door at five sharp. I’d gotten dressed in a hurry, even allowing my hair to remain long, something I rarely did. Maybe I was considering today my casual Friday.
I waved to my assistant as I headed to my office, ready to remain behind closed doors for the rest of the day.
“Ms. Devereaux.”
I hadn’t realized anyone had followed me inside. Hearing my boss’ voice, I inwardly groaned. His sudden appearance usually meant he needed a favor.
“Mr. Bernat. Happy Friday. What can I do for you?” I set my briefcase down, trying to plaster on a smile. As far as district attorneys went, he was usually fair and backed his people anytime there was criticism, but when he asked you to do something like jump, you were supposed to respond how high.
That didn’t bode well with my personality.
However, he was well aware I was vying for his position someday. That meant watching my p’s and q’s and being a team player.
I noticed he had a file in his hand, which meant it had yet to be input into the computer. We were a busy office, cost-cutting preventing us from hiring the administrative staff we needed, so date entry was last on the list of fulfilled needs.
“I’m sorry to catch you just coming in.” He had a way of chastising you without doing so, but I just wasn’t capable of apologizing today.
“Is there something you need?”
He walked closer, tossing the file on my desk. “I know this is last minute, but I had a court date moved up unexpectedly. I’m going to need you to handle this for me today. Now, it is a very high-profile case, but I feel assured you can handle it.”
When he started to walk from the room, I almost lunged forward. “Mr. Bernat. I don’t understand. What case? You’re talking about today? I don’t even know the case you’re working on. Plus, I have several that I’m juggling right now.”
He backed me off by planting his hand on my desk and leaning over.
“Relax, Ms. Devereaux. This is merely a bail hearing. Plus, you have until just after lunch to review the case, which should be fairly straightforward. The man is guilty as sin and it’s our job to put him behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. ”
I was shocked at his embellishment, something frowned upon.
Even though we were on the prosecuting side of the law, it was our job to prove guilt while still assuming innocence.
Maybe the case was personal for him. That didn’t bode well for my participation either.
We were supposed to recuse ourselves if we had a personal relationship with either the defendant or any witness.
“Sir, you know how I like to do my best and there must be someone else who can get a jumpstart and—”
My boss threw up his hand to stop me from talking. “Catherine. I’m not asking you to handle this case for me. I’m telling you that you are. This will test your mettle as a prosecutor and help me determine who the rising stars in this office are. I suggest you use your morning wisely.”
The weight of his words was clear.
Goddamn the man.
With a knowing smile on his face, he walked out of my office with full confidence I wouldn’t let him down.
Why was it that I’d sighed more that morning than I had for the entire week? I flopped down in my chair, leaning back as I snagged the file and dragged it closer. Just why was this case so special?
After taking a few deep breaths, I flipped the folder open, reading both the paragraph on the man and the charges. Then I turned to the page showing his booking photograph.
Instantly, my blood pressure began to rise.
Not because the man in question was perhaps the most ruthless man in all of New Orleans.
Certainly not because he and his family owned half of New Orleans or that he had a full team of lawyers working for him.
Or even that I could be torn to shreds if I didn’t carry my weight.
My body’s reaction was all based on the photograph of man whose livelihood would be temporarily placed in my hands.
Alexander Prince.
Stunning good looks with raven black hair and blue eyes like the ocean on a stormy night. With a carved strong jaw tickled by coarse black stubble and deep rose lips so full I could imagine how delicious they’d taste, the picture alone drew my breath.
Yet there was a coldness in his expression, a knowing look that added a dangerous quality while keeping a subtle yet provocative tone of seduction. He was the kind of man who could make you look differently at right and wrong while wrecking your bed and your heart.
“Fuck.”
One hard body, muscular and sinfully defined.
A sun-kissed complexion with dark, soulful eyes brimming with promises of depravity.
And the man I’d run into on the street, the same man who’d saved me from a very bad man, and the one my body had reacted to without hesitation or reservation. The man who’d also been the object of a few vivid, highly provocative fantasies.
Fantastic.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
Jesus Christ. I hadn’t been this nervous working a case or standing in front of a judge since the very first time I’d been asked to handle one myself.
I’d been tongue tied, blubbering like some first-year law student instead of a woman who’d been offered the job after two hundred even more qualified people had applied.
It was ridiculous. I had a few years under my belt, dozens of cases, many of which had gained notoriety.
The once tongue-tied girl had turned into an accomplished shark who knew her way around the law with her eyes closed.
I had both the admiration and hatred of my colleagues, but I wasn’t in the game to win Miss Popularity. It was all about the law.
Which was why when I rushed up the steps to the courthouse and was instantly confronted with reporters, their presence dragged me out of my pretrial mental state. While bail hearings were usually court proceedings that lasted maybe ten minutes, this case was huge and required special care.
I’d had two hours to prepare, not nearly enough given his extensive background and the oddities that I’d noticed about the case.
Yet I’d been forced to go with what I had, refusing to walk into any courtroom without having every single duck in a row.
That wasn’t fair to the prosecutor’s office or to the person who’d been accused of the crime.
Only this wasn’t just any person. This was about arguably the most powerful man in New Orleans.
What I’d found interesting was that for all the aggressive insistence that Alexander was guilty, there’d been very little evidence to back it up.
Yes, there was a note that the victim was from a rival family, but if I had a quarter for every time I heard about possible turf wars, I wouldn’t need a promotion.
If this case were being tried today, the prosecution would lose.
After today, I didn’t need to worry about it.
And I certainly would find a way to ensure I didn’t run into the handsome man ever again.
Suddenly, I was barraged by a throng of reporters, their eager faces and instant questions catching me off guard.
“Ms. Devereaux. I understand you’ll be taking over the case against Alexander Prince.”
“Ms. Devereaux. Do you know who you’re prosecuting? The Prince of Darkness.”
What? I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the last question.
Was I suddenly going to be faced with someone from The Walking Dead?
Perhaps Dracula’s assistant? Now I had to admit the man oozed darkness and danger as if it were a piece of daily attire.
The thought created warmth between my legs.
Silly girl.
Then the content of the first question finally dawned on me.
Wait. Hold on. I wasn’t taking over this case. I was doing my boss a favor. Or was that what he’d been trying to tell me? I wasn’t given an opportunity to answer before another microphone was thrust in my face.