Chapter Four #2
Ava’s face flickers across my screen, zoomed in on that perfect, furious expression, and I have the strongest urge to screenshot it. Her beautiful face makes an ache form in my chest that I don’t know what to do with. I scrub my hands over my face, but it doesn’t help. The image sticks anyway.
I swipe up to clear the notifications and pull up my contacts. There’s only one person I actually feel like talking to right now. She answers on the second ring.
“What’s wrong?”
A grin spreads across my face, and I already feel ten times lighter. “Why does something have to be wrong? Can’t I just call my big sister to chat?”
“You never call me this late,” she answers, though her voice is more fond than annoyed. “You know I usually turn into a pumpkin after I grade papers, and you don’t want to risk waking up your nephew and giving me a reason to plot your death.”
“Shit,” I mutter, glancing at the clock on the cab’s dashboard. “Did I? I wasn’t even thinking about the time.” It is a little after ten here, which means just past nine in Missouri. Jess usually has him down by seven. Guilt settles heavy in my chest.
“No, you got lucky,” she laughs. “He’s out cold. T-ball wore him out. It’s a lot for a tiny human.”
I chuckle. “I can imagine. What the hell does T-ball even look like for four-year-olds?”
“Pure chaos. Kids abandoning their bases, chasing the ball in packs, occasionally forgetting they are supposed to play baseball at all. But they are adorable in their uniforms, so it evens out. What is going on with you?”
I sigh. “I pushed a little too far in court today. If you want to see it, the clips are already floating around online. NYTV filmed the whole thing.”
“Isn’t that, like, half of your job?”
“Usually,” I admit. “But this time feels different. I am not talking about the surprise witness so much as… something I said. It got more personal than it should have.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” she says, voice growing concerned.
I rub the back of my neck with the hand not holding my phone, face suddenly hot. “You remember that defense attorney I told you about? That I go up against all the time?”
“The hot redhead?”
I snort. “No. Well, yes. But… anyways. I think I just let her get under my skin a little too much, and I acted out of character.”
Jess laughs softly. “Mark, for someone who prides himself on staying in control, you are really spiraling here.” Her voice turns teasing. “Do you have a thing for her?”
I frown. “Ava Kendrick? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s hot, yeah, but she’s a vicious trust fund baby who lives solely to drive me insane.” Even as the words fall from my lips, I feel a small voice inside of me singing liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Kinda sounds like the gentleman doth protest too much,” she says lightly. “But fine. Whatever you say. Is she an omega?”
“An omega high-profile defense attorney?” I scoff. “Be serious.”
“Right, I wasn’t thinking,” Jess admits. “They’re not allowed to do that, are they?”
“Well, it isn’t that they aren’t allowed.”
“Unbonded omegas can’t go to school outside of the omega schools, though, right?”
“Well, yeah, for safety reasons. But once they are bonded, they could go to law school. It’s just that the timeline doesn’t really allow for someone to rise in ranks like Ava has.
” It sounds and feels like I’m making excuses, and I’m not sure why.
“Anyway, no, she’s not an omega. Just a beta.
” As if anything about her could ever be described with the word just.
“Mm-hmm,” Jess hums. “And yet you are calling me at ten at night to unpack your feelings about her.”
“I’m not calling about her,” I say, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “It’s just… the mayor was pleased with how I handled things today. Said it made me look strong. The kind of alpha voters like to see.”
“And how did it make you feel?” Jess asks quietly.
I hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of dirty, I guess?”
“Mark,” she says gently but firmly, “you did not claw your way out of Missouri and into that office so you could start acting like every power-hungry politician in Manhattan.”
“I know. It’s just that they expect it,” I admit, “and I need the donors.”
“Do you? You want to run for office because you want to change the status quo,” she reminds me. “You can be ambitious and still be ethical. You can be powerful without being cruel.”
I stare out the cab window, neon smearing across the glass. “Sometimes that doesn’t feel true.”
“Well, it is,” she says. “You’re at your best when you actually believe in what you are doing. Not when you are trying to impress men you don’t even like.”
A breath slips out of me, slow and tired. “You always call me out for being a dick.”
“That’s what big sisters do,” she replies fondly. “You’re allowed to be competitive, Mark. Just don’t let it turn you into someone your nephew wouldn’t recognize.”
That lands harder than anything else she has said tonight.
“I know,” I murmur. “That’s why I called.”
“All right, it’s pumpkin time for me. Ayden will be up at five like clockwork. Come home and visit soon, okay? You can watch the awe-inspiring chaos of four-year-old T-ball.”
“I will. Love you.”
We hang up just as my cab stops in front of my apartment building.
I pay the man and head inside and towards the row of mailboxes.
I’m hoping the new collection of ‘80s rock vinyls I ordered has been delivered. It’s a nice building, but we don’t have a doorman—something I’ve never minded.
Only fifteen units, so the management figured residents could handle their own packages.
Usually, it’s fine. We’ve set up a little system—oversized boxes get wedged behind the mail area, smaller ones tucked inside the cabinets by the stairs.
It’s not glamorous, but it works, and all the neighbors sort of keep an eye out.
I think it reminds me of my childhood home in that regard. It’s easy not to get to know your neighbors or the people around you in New York City. But here in the small building, I know everyone’s name and regularly pet their dogs when I see them.
I snag my albums with a grin and take the elevator upstairs to my apartment. It takes a bit of juggling to punch in my code on the keypad with the vinyls and my briefcase, but I manage and kick the door closed behind me.
I like my apartment, sleek lines and muted colors with a decent view out the large windows. It even has a balcony. The rent makes me nauseous every single time I pay it, but that’s just the reality of New York.
Something about it just doesn’t quite feel like my forever home.
For now, though, it works. It’s a short ride to my office and the courthouse. There’s a decent gym downstairs, and it’s only a couple of blocks to a subway station.
I set my briefcase down and carefully tear open the wrapping on the vinyls.
The auction listing was truthful, and they’re in excellent condition, which makes me grin.
I take one out of the sleeve and place it on the turntable, gently dropping the needle on it until music fills the room.
It’s late, and I do have neighbors, so I keep the volume at a reasonable level.
I snag a beer out of the fridge, cracking it open. Leaning against the counter, I stare out the window, watching the city move below. For a moment, I’m blissfully alone. No reporters or opposing counsel, no politics breathing down my neck. And I can finally relax.
Still, though, it is lonely. Perhaps I should start dating. I haven’t really tried in a while. Not seriously. Casual hookups here and there to scratch the itch. Not many people can deal with the hours I work or all the functions I have to attend in order to keep my name relevant.
I sigh. The thought has no genuine appeal to it. Instead, my traitorous brain keeps thinking about Ava. The flash of anger in her eyes. I wonder if she knows she flushes with a subtle shade of pink when she’s flustered.
The thought wakes me up a bit. Shit. Maybe Jess is right, maybe I am developing a thing for Ava Kendrick. If that’s the case, I definitely need to date some more.
It isn’t like I’m about to let myself get tangled up with the goddamn viper.