Filthy Boss

“It isn't what you think. I had to keep you safe; I should've told you from the beginning, but I had to protect you.”

“From what? These drug dealers? I can take care of myself thanks.”

“Me. And my life. Everything about me screams danger. But you didn’t see it like that. I had to make you understand.”

I yanked my arm away from him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Is that what you think?”

I tried to take a deep breath but my chest hurt when I looked into his eyes. For the first time since I had met Hudson, he looked like a scared child. Like the best thing that ever happened to him was being ripped away, and there was nothing he could do about it. The hurt in his eyes was crushing me.

“Hudson, it's over. It has to be.”

He shook his head. “I won't let you go that easily.”

“That's not your choice.”

I turned on my heel, and walked away. I couldn't let anyone see how embarrassed I was, so I continued walking all the way to the dressing room. I curled up on one of the chaise lounges, and just let myself cry. I realized that this might be one of the only solitary moments I would have for a long time. And sometimes you just need a moment to take it all in, and everything that was going on around you. And what was going on around me, sucked. The club had chewed me up and spit me out and I was drowning in my own despair. But I only let myself wallow for a few minutes before I sat up, wiped my face, and got ready to go home. I had to get ready for court tomorrow; I had to defend my innocence.

Chapter Eighteen

I scrubbed my hands in the sink for what felt like the millionth time. I had never been in a courthouse before. It was kind of scary, knowing I was around real criminals. Perhaps in the bathroom with one right now. I looked around me timidly when the door swung open. In walked Mrs. Paxton, the judge’s wife. Shit. I had seen her on TV. Luckily she walked right up to the mirror and hardly noticed my presence.

“Can you believe the press out there?” She laughed, checking her reflection.

“I’m sorry?”

“The press dear. They’re everywhere. Trying to get a glimpse at the little slut who killed my husband I assume.”

“Oh.” She knew they were here to see her. Was she trying to figure out if I was the girl from the club?

“I swear this case is giving me so many wrinkles my Botox doctor is going to have a field day.”

I didn’t respond.

She shrugged. “Good luck with whatever you’re here for honey. Watch out for the lawyers, they’ll eat you alive.” She cackled as she left and I considered going to the bathroom again just to put time and space between myself and her toxic personality. She was not the crying widow I had seen on TV.

Minutes later I sat in the wooden chair in the back of the courtroom, waiting for my name to be called. I was jittery, and my legs wouldn’t stay still. Monique sighed and gave me a look for the fifth time. I knew she was getting annoyed, but I was terrified. Not only could I say something on the stand that would accidentally incriminate me, but if I was proven innocent there was a band of drug dealers who might kill me. I stared out the window next to me and considered my options. Monique had a plan and I just had to follow it. And I had to pray it worked out in my favor.

The lawyer stopped talking again and it snapped me back to my current reality. They had already questioned his driver and his daughter, and both were visibly upset about his death. I worried that I would look guilty because I didn't really care about him. I certainly felt bad that he was gone, but I didn't know him well enough to be sad about it. I was afraid that I would look bitter and cold.

I leaned over and whispered to Monique, “Should I look emotional?”

She shook her head but didn't say anything.

I looked out the window that was next to me once more, and tried to think about my freedom. A lot was on the line here, and I was hopeful that it would all be over soon.

“We’d like to call Calla Hart to the stand, please.”

Monique whispered, “Follow the plan.”

I stood and straightened my skirt before crossing in front of Monique and walking up the aisle onto the stand. I had never been so terrified in my entire life.

As I passed Mrs. Paxton she gave me a steely glare. So she hadn’t known who I was in the bathroom, she wasn’t playing dumb.

“Please state your name for the court records.”

“Calla Elizabeth Hart.” My palms were sweaty. I looked to Monique for a surge of confidence but I couldn’t find her in the crowd.