Raphael's POV
Before Jessica called, I was just going to ignore the whole thing, her son was irresponsible and honestly a few years in jail might finally teach him a lesson. Unlikely.
Unfortunately Marcus was an idiot, but he was still family, which meant I had to do something.
Then of all the lawyers he picked, it had to be her. Miss Goody Two Shoes. He couldn't even fool his own lawyer into believing him, how was he going to convince a judge?
No, It wasn't about Marcus. It was about the bloodline. About appearances. So she became my problem.
*******
She looked like she'd seen a ghost, her eyes wide with shock, lips parted slightly and a little step back like the room had betrayed her.
Her hair was that chestnut brown that looked like rich chocolate was flowing off her scalp and fell as loose waves past her waist. I'd always wondered how long it took for her to get it to look like that, so perfectly structured yet so natural.
I could tell instantly without looking that she had heels on. Tall enough to challenge with hips that moved like they'd been painted on by someone who had a thing for balance and soft defiance. All those days in the courthouse, I'd watched her carry herself like she had something to prove, but right now, that poise had cracked, and all I could see was the exhaustion swimming behind her bright brown eyes. Shame, really. Ruined an otherwise impeccable picture.
Her eyes scanned the room, like she was waiting for me to vanish, like I was a bad dream she'd woken up into twice.
Was our encounter really that bad? I had to admit I was slightly offended. I'd only threatened her because she was being all high and mighty, the same reason I'd been watching her all ever since. There was just something about this self righteous naive woman.
"Please no," she whispered. Like I was the devil...maybe she wasn't far off.
"Do you plan to stand there forever or will you take a seat?" I spoke.
She flinched.
Had she forgotten that I could speak?
I had to hold back a chuckle, it was comedic, watching her go from utterly shocked to slightly terrified.
"Why are you here?" She asked, her voice unsure.
"Well that should tell you," I gestured to the file she was gripping like her life depended on it.
She flipped it open again, eyes running through the lines.
"No," she shook her head and shut the file, "No. I'm not doing this."
Bold, but futile. People did what I told them, one way or the other.
"Miss Rhodes..." I said calmly.
She froze in place, eyes fixed on mine. "What?" She murmured.
"You should probably take a seat," I said.
Her shoulders relaxed but she didn't move.
"I'll call Richard, your lawyer will be with you soon. I'm sure this was a mix-up..." she said.
"I asked for you," I added.
"What?"
"I asked for you to be my lawyer. So no, this isn't a mix-up," I answered.
I almost said it again, just to watch her flinch.
I did ask for her, not just out of amusement, because this was very amusing but also because her innocent image would work in my favour.
"I am not going to represent a gang lord," she blurted out.
A breath escaped me, something between a chuckle and a sigh.
She gasped, she probably hadn't realised what she said and clasped her lips. For a moment I could have sworn she stopped breathing too.
I'd seen that gesture before, at the coffee shop last week, she was on a phone call, murmured something unreadable and gasped.
It was strange how everything she did seemed to intrigue me now. But then, a lot of things I'd watched her do in the past few weeks intrigued me.
The way she smiled sweetly when she was greeted and how quickly that smile faded when they weren't looking, the way she always touched her left elbow when she was scared.
How the index finger of her left hand was always painted in a different colour from the rest.
I'd seen all of it.
I was simply watching, to prove that she wasn't as holy as she thought she was, it was simply that, to prove that she was just like everyone else. Flawed. But when I'd called Richard to inform him of my situation I hadn't even realised when I'd requested her.
*******
I had just stepped back into my office, fresh from a frustrating meeting with an arms dealer who thought three weeks of delay was "reasonable." I was already annoyed. I hadn't even loosened my tie when I noticed the blood.
The body was dumped like trash, slumped against the far wall.
Young. Skinny. Throat cut clean.
Whoever did it wanted it seen. Wanted me to see it.
I hadn't even reached for my phone before the door burst open. Boots. Shouts. Guns raised.
Police.
A setup. Sloppy, but loud. Designed to get attention. Designed to leave stains.
They took me without a fight. I didn't see the point. The charges wouldn't stick, not unless someone very stupid decided to testify and even then the changes where slim.
But I could feel it, someone had decided to fuck with me.
Wrong move.
Which brought me here.
To her.
****
"Sit down, Miss Rhodes," I tried to sound as gentle as possible but it came out as a command.
And surprisingly she did sit, like she was being held at gunpoint but nevertheless she sat.
"Why? Why me?" Her eyes pierced mine.
"Because I'm being framed," I answered plainly.
Something shifted in her eyes, it wasn't fear or confusion it was anger.
"I'm not falling for that trick again," she crossed her arms.
"It's not a trick," I said.
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah right, let me guess you were on your way home from a bar as well?"
Her tone was snappy, I guess her anger was more powerful than her fear, she seemed more relaxed now.
"You think I'd be sitting here if I had?"
The words came quieter than I intended. No edge, no charm, just the truth. Raw and bare. I didn't even try to dress it up.
If I wanted someone dead, they'd dissapear completely.
"And why in the world should I believe you?"
"Because I don't lie."
She paused, "Don't you have a lawyer for things like this? Someone like Richard who doesn't have any problem taking up cases like this?"
"I do, but obviously whoever did this is trying to tarnish my image, I'm going to win the court case. But I want a lawyer who's known for being just," I explained.
"You want to use me as a figurehead?"
"Exactly," I answered.
"I don't want to..." Her voice was low, like she was telling herself.
I leaned forward, holding her gaze. "I'm giving you an offer, a way to make money, handle a big case and it doesn't trample on your feeble ideals. After all, I didn't actually kill the man."
"And if I say no," she whispered.
"That's not an option, you can choose how you want to work. Willingly or..." I said.
Her eyes lowered, and the fatigue that hung over them doubled.
I could see her struggling, and while it was not amusing or even pleasing to watch. Maybe this would finally break her halo. Then I could stop watching. Then I could forget her.