Reasonable Doubt: Volume 1 (Reasonable Doubt 1)

>The sky was starless tonight—nearly pitch black, and the moon was hiding underneath a curtain of dark clouds. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, tonight’s sky bore a horrid resemblance to a certain night that occurred six years ago.

It was the night my life changed forever, the night that left me broken, shattered, and numb. All because of lies—a series of heartbreaking and inconceivable lies.

I tried hard to prevent myself from picturing the memories, but I could still hear that strained, ragged voice in my head: “Andrew...You have to help me...You have to get me out of here...Please... Save me, Andrew...”

I shook my head and blocked out the rest of that memory. Unlike six years ago, I was in control of this situation, and “Alyssa” lying to me meant that our friendship was over, done.

There was no justification for what she’d done, but before I cut her off, I needed to make her pay for lying to me, and I needed to figure out how.

Conviction (n.):

A judgment of guilt against a criminal defendant.

Andrew

“Mr. Hamilton?” Aubrey set my coffee down on my desk two weeks later. I’d personally insisted that she work as my intern, even though looking at her made me angry.

I’d made a point not to say too much around her, to refrain from staring at her too long, and I couldn’t help being crueler than ever—dismissive even. I made her responsible for my daily coffee, demanded that she re-do every assignment at least three times, and whenever she asked for my help, I answered her with a detached “Figure it out yourself.”

She never seemed upset or offended by my harshness, which made me even angrier. I’d thought that by having her work for me and seeing her crack under pressure that my attraction to her would fade, but it only intensified each time I saw her face.

Especially today.

As I pulled my coffee closer, I noticed that her ni**les were poking through her thin, beige dress, and it was so tight that I could see the imprint of lace panties.

Fuck...

“Mr. Hamilton?” she asked again.

“Yes, Miss Everhart?”

“I have an important rehearsal for a ballet I’m a part of, so I was wondering...” She looked absolutely nervous. “Can I go home early today?”

“No.”

She sighed. “I really need to be at this rehearsal...It’s at the Grand Hall.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, clearing her throat, “with all due respect, Mr. Hamilton, this is a pretty big deal for me. The Grand Hall is usually reserved for performances, so for them to open it and let us use it for a rehearsal is—”

I wasn’t listening, and as much as I wanted to look at my work again and make it clear that she was being ignored, I couldn’t. I was too busy staring at the contours of her mouth.

“That’s a fact.” She was still talking for some reason. “I think I’ve made very valid points, and since I’m not asking for too much, you should agree to let me go.”

“Get back to work, Miss Everhart.”

“Mr. Hamilton, please—”

“Get. Back. To. Work.” I glared at her, daring her to let another word slip out of her seductive mouth. “I don’t care about your personal life. I pay you for twenty five hours a week, so you’ll work twenty five hours a week, and you’ll work them when I say you’ll work them. So, get back to your cubicle.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, and I couldn’t help but notice tears welling in her eyes.

“You can take that box of Kleenex with you on your way out,” I said.

Shaking her head, she stepped back and headed for the door. “I’m going to ask Mr. Bach if I can leave early. No disrespect to you.”

“Excuse me?” I stood up. “What did you just say?”