Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
The words ‘at Harvard’ linger in the air between us, and from the way he’s looking at me, I know he suspects something, but I refuse to confirm anything.
“Yes, you should assume that.” I feign a smile. “That is where I’m attending school, and I’ve already told my father—your boss—all about this private project.”
“Good for you, Miss Hunter.” He moves out of the way, allowing me to board the elevator.
And then he joins me, hitting the lobby button for us both.
“Your father is hosting a party in the Hamptons in a few weeks,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll be assigned to pick you up from school.”
“That’s usually the case, Francis.” The hairs on the back of my neck begin standing up one by one. “Why are you telling me now?”
“No reason.” His eyes meet mine. “Just letting you know.”
The doors slide open, and I step into the lobby.
“It was nice seeing you,” I say. “Until next time.”
He doesn’t respond.
He simply follows me across the marble floor and through the revolving golden entrance, but he stops behind the valet sign.
I pick up my pace and walk as fast as I can.
When I’m certain his prying eyes can’t see me, I pull out my phone and call Jameson.
It rings once.
It rings twice.
It goes to voicemail.
Ugh…
I try again.
It doesn’t ring at all.
“You’ve reached Jameson Tate. Leave a message.”
Beep!
“Jameson, it’s me,” I say. “I know you see me calling you. Please call me back.”
I stare at my screen, waiting for what feels like forever, but his call never comes.
I make it all the way back to my dorm, anxiously anticipating the sight of his name across my screen.
It’s not until I settle behind my desk that it appears. Via text message.
Jameson
Miss Hunter, as I stated earlier today, please contact my assistant if you need anything from me.
Also, as I’m sure you expected, your employee contract with the janitorial company is officially terminated.
DERELICT (N.):
SOMETHING OR SOMEONE WHO IS ABANDONED, SUCH AS A SHIP LEFT TO DRIFT AT SEA OR A HOMELESS PERSON IGNORED BY FAMILY AND SOCIETY.
JAMESON
Three Days Later
“Because she’s a disappointment… and I don’t like discussing my weaknesses.”
Lucas’s words are still floating through my mind, along with the unwanted vision of Scarlett’s beautiful face.
Her perfect smile…
No matter how many cold showers I force myself to take, how many dockets I force myself to read, or how many times I stare out my window in the dead of night, memories of Scarlett remain.
She smiles at me in my office whenever I look up from my work, begging me to talk for “just one more hour.”
When I arrive home, she sits up on my couch and beckons me to come closer with her alluring hazel gaze.
And now, in the middle of what’s supposed to be an effortless and easy case, Scarlett is sitting on the edge of the witness box—glaring at me as I check my phone.
“Did Mr. Tate offer you any special privileges or deals in exchange for your testimony today?” Julia’s “I’m trying too hard to be a prosecutor” voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
“I don’t understand the question,” my witness says.
“It’s a simple yes-or-no one, sir.” She crosses her arms. “Is Mr. Tate paying you for your testimony today?”
“Define paying…” He shrugs. “I’m not sure what you’re implying by that.”
“You’re a forensic expert,” she says. “Are you attending this hearing out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I had a heart transplant last year, so I don’t think that metaphor really works right now…”
“No further questions for this witness, Your Honor.” She rolls her eyes. “The state rests.”
“Redirect?” The judge looks at me.
“No, Your Honor.” I stand. “I don’t believe I—”
“Permission for a brief sidebar with the defense?” Julia interrupts me.
“Make it very brief.” The judge looks at his watch, and Julia walks over to my table.
“What the hell is wrong with you this morning, Jameson?” She hisses under her breath. “Are you alive?”
“Obviously…”
“I was literally badgering your witness, bringing up things that are outside the scope, and you didn’t yell 'Objection!' once.”
“So, you’re finally admitting that you’re a terrible prosecutor?”
“Never.” She leans closer. “You and I both know this case is built on a house of cards, and as much as I despise your client… I don’t think he did this.”
“So, why the hell are we even here?”
“My bosses are pushing me to try this case.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Ask for a continuance and then promise me you’ll transform into your normal self so I can lose this one and gloat about being right to my bosses.”
I blink.
“Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Tate.” She returns to her table.
“Are we free to continue?” the judge asks. “Redirect?”
“No, Your Honor.” I smile. “I’d like to request a two-day continuance.”
“On what grounds, Mr. Tate?”
“Medical reasons,” I say. “My witness mentioned having a heart transplant.”