Chapter 3
Ophelia forced herself to walk from the judge’s chambers, anxiety tunneling her vision.
Deo—no, Gideon Sperry. When she’d known the gargoyle, he’d been Deo Spallou, but it was the same man, just so much harder.
God—pain shot through her temples at the appellation, and she winced—that was on her.
She knew it was all her fault, and now she’d reap the whirlwind.
Liam called out after her, and she ducked into the bathroom, shutting herself into a stall, knock-kneed and shaking as she sat.
Deo was here, and he hated her.
The way his eyes had been turquoise ice… She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t deal with the hatred behind them. Not after what he’d meant to her, what they’d meant to each other. Everything she’d gone through, everything that she’d suffered, had been for him. For them.
And now she had nothing. Not even the memory of him to keep her warm.
She lifted her gaze, blinking back tears and smoothed a trembling hand over her cheeks. Not here. She couldn’t fall apart here. Couldn’t let anyone know how much seeing him had upset her.
An explanation. He wanted an explanation. A sad laugh slipped past her lips. She didn’t even know where to begin. Or rather, she did, and it began and ended with her being a fucking idiot. Somehow, she didn’t think that would suffice.
Ghandi, she couldn’t lose this case. Couldn’t be sent back to the Citadel.
Back to Kremlyn.
Her stomach lurched. He wouldn’t kill her.
Oh no, it would be much, much worse. The repercussions for inciting dissent had been horrific enough, but to defy him by escaping her punishment?
It didn’t matter that it’d been the coven’s spell that had ripped her from that prison cell. All of his rage would fall on her.
Ophelia took a deep breath, completely dissociating from that possibility, her insides hollow.
It wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t know where she was, and she would win.
It didn’t matter if Gideon was the opposing counsel.
Didn’t matter if he hated her. She’d suffered worse.
Been punished for her shitty bright ideas.
Nothing he could do could hurt her as much as Kremlyn had, or would, if she lost. Not even the hatred in Deo’s—no, in Gideon’s eyes. She wouldn’t let it.
She wouldn’t lose.
She left the stall and paused to touch up her makeup in the mirror above the sink, scowling as her hands shook.
Stop it. “You are a bad bitch, Ophelia Diamondé,” she murmured, reapplying her lipstick, then wiping it off to do it again.
“And bad bitches don’t slink home; they go eat fucking sushi.
” She popped her lips and snapped her purse shut on her way out the door.
Liam was waiting for her, his phone to his ear. She strode past him to the elevator, ignoring his furrowed brow as he ended the call and hurried after her. His hand shot out, stopping the doors from closing, and got in with her.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.
“Nope.”
He snorted, ducking his head as the elevator descended. “Look, obviously you and Sperry have some kind of history, and it was enough to put you off your game.”
“My game was fine, thank you, and my past is none of your business,” she said, briskly walking away from him as soon as the elevator doors opened. Keep it together, Phe.
“Damn it…” He caught up with her, smart enough to keep his mouth shut as they exited the building. Ophelia turned left, heading away from the courthouse. “Where are you going?”
“I’m hungry,” she said, flicking her jagged locks from her eyes. The wind had picked up, the pending storm imminent. “Feel free to wait in the alley for me.”
“I’d rather not leave you alone,” he said, pulling on a pair of gloves as he kept pace through the sad excuse for a downtown. It might be bigger than Havers, but after living on the West Coast, it was barely a blip on the map.
“Aww, thanks, champ, but I’m a big girl. Pretty sure I can take care of myself.” It wasn’t like anyone else was going to. She pressed the button for the crosswalk, cursing the steady flow of traffic trapping her there with him.
He jammed his hands into his pockets, his breath spiraling away. “I’m not doubting your competence, but as one headcase to another, I get it. You can pretend I’m not here, but I’m going with you.”
Ophelia blinked rapidly, her eyes misting up. “Fuck you.”
She crossed the street, hating herself for feeling better at his footsteps echoing hers. Damn it, she didn’t need this shit. Didn’t need him or anyone else. She pulled her phone, trying to figure out where the hell she was going. Two more blocks, then another left.
Several minutes later, she pushed through the restaurant’s double doors.
Inside was narrow and dark, with booths separated by rice paper screens and a smattering of tables.
A bar was at the far end of the room. Ophelia nodded to the Asian man behind it, then took a seat at the end, plopping her purse on the seat beside her.
Liam took off his big coat and jacket, then dropped them both over the back. Asshole.
A skinny blonde handed them each a menu, twirling her high ponytail around a finger as she left.
Ophelia ran her gaze over the selection, then placed her order with the chef in flawless Japanese.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. They went back and forth for a few moments before he dipped his head and got started, yelling her drink order at the back.
“I’ll have the same,” Liam said to him, putting aside his menu and loosening his tie.
Ophelia shook her head. “Do you have any idea what I just ordered?”
“Nope.” He stretched out his arms. “But it sounds like you know what you’re talking about. I’m sure it’ll be good.”
“Suit yourself,” she muttered, watching him roll up his sleeves out of the corner of her eye. Felix had certainly hit the jackpot with him, but why Liam was into the scrawny redhead was a fucking mystery. It sure as hell wasn’t for his fashion sense.
The blonde came back with two hot sakes and proceeded to drool over Liam. Ophelia’s brow rose as the little bitch poured his drink for him and then left without glancing in her direction. Guess someone wasn’t interested in a tip.
The bell over the door rang, and an anemic woman in a full-length faux fur and pink business suit came in. She did a double take at Liam, her severe bob whipping around her overly-contoured cheeks.
“Liam? Holy shit, it is you,” she said, a broad grin across her face.
He turned reluctantly. “Oh, hey, Monica.”
“‘Oh, hey, Monica?’” She marched over and put her hands on her slim hips.
Ophelia smirked, more than ready for some entertainment at someone else’s expense.
“Is that all you’ve got to say after how many years?
I heard you moved back to Havers and finally divorced that shrew.
You need to tell me everything! Monica Freznoi,” said, holding out a hand to Ophelia as an afterthought. “Liam and I interned together.”
Whoop-de-fucking-doo. “Ophelia Diamondé. Charmed,” she said, lying through her teeth and ignoring the woman’s hand.
She held it out for a moment longer before forcing another smile and taking the seat beside Liam, practically in his lap. He scooched his chair closer to Ophelia’s purse, obviously uncomfortable with the lack of personal boundaries. Monica didn’t seem to notice, or care if she did.
The chef delivered Ophelia’s meal, and she thanked him.
Liam did the same, the woman nattering in his ear about people and places Ophelia had zero interest in.
Monica hadn’t been kidding about practicing law the way she was firing off questions, but Liam was better.
She got out maybe a handful before her martini was delivered, then he was the one running the interrogation.
Monica was just tickled to fill him in. Ghandi, Ophelia had not missed small talk. She concentrated on her fish, enjoying it despite the shitty conversation beside her. The chef definitely knew what he was doing.
“Am I seeing anyone? Hah, funny you should ask.” Monica laughed bitterly, flicking her hair from her face and throwing back the majority of her drink.
“Not as of three hours ago. Up until then, I had been seeing Gideon. God. I know, I know. He’s such a fucking asshole.
I hope you two eviscerate him in the courtroom. ”
“That’s the plan,” Liam said, smearing wasabi over a roll. He popped it into his mouth and chewed slowly. “I was surprised to see he’s still working for Fayet. I would’ve thought he’d have moved on by now. He’s not exactly what I’d call a small town prosecutor.”
Monica cocked a brow. “Oh, you have been gone forever. Yes, he’s on Fayet’s retainer, but he spends most of his time shilling for the Vampire Court.”
Ophelia grabbed her napkin, coughing into it, and Liam shot her a glance. She waved him away, throwing back her sake. It landed in her stomach like a rock. Gideon was working with the Court?!
“Oh yeah?” Liam asked.
“Mmm.” Monica finished her martini and spun the glass.
“Apparently, they recruited him when he was still with some big firm out west and Fayet was part of the deal. Not surprising when you think about it. Damn the man, but he’s good, and sure as hell doesn’t have any compunctions.
He represented the vamp that went on a rampage a couple of months ago up north, and got the monster off on a technicality. ”
“No shit,” Liam murmured. “Didn’t close to two dozen people die in that?”