Chapter seven #2
“The question is, can we convince the jury your wife was under the water level of her own accord?” The uneasy smile returns to his face. His eyes narrow, challenging me to say what’s on my tongue. “Or did you hold her there, and the vents sucking her hair in was dumb luck?”
“Luck?” he repeats back.
“A credible excuse is possibly a better description.”
“I like to think that luck is always on my side, Mr. Waite. Chance and hard work have provided me with a life many strive for but few experience. Money sorts everything else, hence why you, the best defense lawyer in London, is sitting across from me today. That, sir, was not on account of luck.”
“Congratulations on your success,” I reply. “Now, can we finish our meeting?”
***
I pull into the underground parking lot at my building.
The barrier to my space automatically drops as I approach it.
Number plate recognition is an amazing invention.
To access the rectangle of pavement that is designated for my car, I don’t need to speak to anyone or press a buzzer. It’s a joyous experience.
Climbing out, I pick up my briefcase from the passenger seat, then softly close the door behind me.
The Ferrari was obscenely expensive, but I love how it makes me feel.
It was the cherry on top to show I’d made it.
After all the shit and heartbreak of my youth, I had something my mother would be proud of. If only she were here to see it.
Since working with the mafia—becoming part of it, some may say—the playboy lifestyle I once enjoyed stays in the shadows.
Gone are the days of the boys and I living it large in the city, staggering from bar to bar and picking up women on the way.
We frequent exclusive establishments with high security.
Only those in the know are permitted entry; to most, these places don’t even exist.
Russell, Connor, and I set up the law firm eight years ago.
Russell had already been practicing for a few years, being slightly older than both of us.
We worked long hours, networked at all times of day, and rubbed shoulders with those we needed to ensure our success.
Now, we are one of the most in-demand firms in the city with a client list to rival the most established, with a staff of over one hundred relying on us to pay their bills.
Things grew exponentially the moment Hunter Devane walked into my office two years ago, looking to replace his current firm.
He needed lawyers on call at all times of day for a wide range of duties.
We’ve surpassed his expectations by burying charges and pushing deals through courts.
He pays us handsomely for it, but the trade-off of walking a more dangerous course is an unnerving one.
For every benefit, there is a price. The deeper we move into ever-darkening circles, the larger the target on our backs becomes.
After swiping my card across the access pad, the elevator doors open, and I step in. It carries me smoothly to my floor, and I step out into the familiar lobby. My mind wanders to the meeting I had with Matthew this morning as I come face-to-face with the boardroom door.
The two men on duty last night will be sitting at home right now, jobless and sore.
I wanted to kill them for letting that maniac into my building.
When I saw the bruises on Violet’s neck, it took every ounce of my control not to storm downstairs and end them on the spot.
Matthew had calmed the situation but was left with no doubt what would happen if the mistake was made again.
A calming sensation washes over me as I think of Violet.
Her being here in my home is something I could get used to.
The emotion I felt waking up next to her this morning was either new to me or long forgotten.
All I know is when I turned over and saw her asleep in my bed, my day felt better in all respects.
But then, after reality hit and I saw sense, I knew it couldn’t happen again. She was always forbidden. Now, between her situation and my lifestyle, there is no way this could work. She needs a safe environment to live in with someone who adores her. That’s not something I can provide.
As I enter my apartment, the now familiar smell of home-cooked food fills the air. “What’s for dinner, Mrs. D.?” I call, dumping my briefcase at the door, then shrugging out of my suit jacket. She is standing, stirring a pot on the stove.
“Tagine,” she replies, but doesn’t say anymore. It’s unlike her.
“Where’s Violet?” I ask, my eyes scanning the room. I expect her to be sitting on my sofa, legs curled underneath her like she has been the past few days.
“Gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“A hotel, I believe. She said she told you this morning.” She stops stirring for a moment, her gaze fixed on me, assessing my reaction.
“She said it might be best if she went to a hotel, but I never expected her to leave so soon.” I return to looking around the room, half expecting her to pop out from a doorway and yell, “Surprise!” She doesn’t.
“Well, she has,” Mrs. D. snaps. “Her bag was packed at the front door when I arrived. She was gone by ten this morning.”
“Do you know which hotel?”
She shakes her head. “There is enough food here for all you boys this evening,” Mrs. D. tells me. “I assume it’s the usual suspects you’re expecting. The beer fridge is full, and the spare room remade in case anyone stays the night.”
“It’s not that kind of night,” I mutter.
“Well, if the opportunity arises, the room is ready.”
She places the spoon in the pot, then walks out from behind the counter.
One hand reaches into her pocket and extracts a bundle of white lace.
“I was surprised to find these in your room this morning,” she says, passing me Violet’s ripped panties.
I snatch them from her and stuff them into my pocket, annoyed at being caught out.
“Nosy bitch,” I snap, and she scowls at me.
“They were tangled within your bedsheets on the floor. I didn’t go looking for them,” she says sharply, then adds, “Can I be honest?”
“Do I have a choice?” Though Mrs. D. is like the mother I lost in some ways, her familiarity can also be infuriating. Our relationship is at that blended point where employee meets friendship, and today I have a feeling that line will be crossed permanently.
“You don’t share your bed with women,” she states.
“I don’t share my bed with anyone. It’s my safe space.”
“Why did you share it with Violet then?”
Her question sits between us. “What was different about her?”
I shrug. “Harrison,” she says, her voice changing from hard to soft, as if talking to a small boy.
“I’ve known and worked for you for a long time now. I know more of what goes on in this building than most.”
“You’re a treasured member of our team,” I reply. “We all trust you.”
“And I care for you. I want to see you happy, not only in business but personally. The way you looked at that woman yesterday was something I’d never seen from you. And I’ve met plenty of ladies the morning after over the years.”
I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment. She smiles.
“I don’t know what happened or why she left this morning, but don’t throw something away because you’re scared or believe it will make life more difficult.”
“Violet has been gone from all our lives for over a decade. Last night was a moment of madness. Nostalgia. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re not a stupid man. Both you and I know those are complete lies.”
Her eyes narrow in annoyance. “I know you. It’s time to grow up and stop being the playboy. Violet is back, she’s here, and this is your chance.”
With that, she turns and leaves. As she closes the front door, she shouts over her shoulder, “Enjoy your boys’ night. Don’t leave all your shit for me to clean up tomorrow, because I won’t.”
“That’s what I fucking pay you for,” I mutter under my breath, but she doesn’t hear me. She’s gone too.