“Do not forget who is footing this bill,” he reminds me. “Besides, I am an interested party, and the outcome of your case directly affects mine. I have a responsibility to my client to ensure that I have all the information.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me,” I scoff, reading between the lines. “What you mean to say is, you want to explore every little loophole so you can get Colby off on a technicality. Let’s be real here, you know damn well that asshole is guilty, but your precious reputation is more important than seeing a rapist and attempted murderer locked up. You were all too comfortable with the idea of asking me to supply a false alibi. Tell me, if it came down to it in court, would you have asked me to commit perjury just to save face?”
Orlando’s lip twitches as Mom walks into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the tension in the room. She’s dressed in a gown, and I can only assume they’re heading out for yet another gala event. Orlando glances toward her, his eyes skimming over her choice of gown with distaste before forcing a fake smile across his lips. “You look positively breathtaking, my love,” he says, moving toward her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Mom plays the role of doting, bashful wife perfectly and bats her lashes before Orlando turns to me, his calculated stare narrowing with confidence. “You should consider a career in law, Brielle,” he says. “You’d make an excellent lawyer.”
And with that, he strides out of the kitchen, his head held way too high for a man with such questionable morals.
An unladylike scoff flies from my mouth, and I can’t help the way my face twists with disgust. That man truly is a piece of shit. I have no idea what my mother sees in him, you know, apart from the obvious deep pockets, high society lifestyle, and silver fox status.
Mom sighs and moves toward me, setting her clutch on the counter and turning to the oven to see her reflection. Her face is a mask of indifference as she threads a pair of diamonds through her ears, the matching set to the ostentatious ring that protrudes from her finger. “What on earth was that about?” she questions, as though she hasn’t spent the last two weeks assuming I was guilty.
I bite my tongue, working extra hard at keeping the nasty comments to myself. “He was just letting me know that on top of being a piece of shit who wants a rapist to walk free, the accusations against me have officially been dropped.”
I give her a fake grin and without another glance her way, I take the container of Chinese takeout and make my way upstairs.
What can I say? I really tried to be nice, but I clearly lack self-discipline. Oh well, it’s done now. Perhaps I’ve been spending too much time with Tanner and the boys. They’re definitely rubbing off on me.
Making my way into my room, I come to a stop, my lips stretching into a wide grin as I find black eyeliner scrawled across my mirror in Tanner’s familiar handwriting.
NICE LEGS, WHEN DO THEY OPEN?
NICE PUSSY, WHEN CAN I EAT IT?
A snorted laugh tears from the back of my throat, imagining the way Tanner would have stood here smirking at himself as he crossed out the first line and started working on the next one. He would have thought he was such a genius. The idiot is probably still chuckling to himself about just how clever he is.
Unable to tear the grin off my face, I move across my room and glance through the window, double-checking if he’s in his room. I’m not surprised to find it empty, he’s rarely home on a Saturday afternoon doing nothing, unless there’s something wrong with the Mustang after thrashing it the night before at the races.
Just to mess with him, I put the Chinese takeout down and replace it with my phone before hashing out a text and feeling all too smug about it.
Brielle - Nice cock, when can I ride it?
Tanner - Nice ass, when can I fuck it?
Brielle - I’m down now. It’s a shame you’re not home, I could have used your help. Don’t stress, I have plenty of reliable replacements in my bedside drawer.
I laugh, picturing his face wherever he is, regretting the life decisions that led him to miss out on a Saturday in bed. Knowing damn well I’ve won this round, I slip my phone back into my pocket, and as I turn to find my Chinese takeout, something out of the corner of my eye captures my attention.
My eyes bug out of my head, and I suck in a sharp breath finding Tanner out my bedroom window launching himself over the back fence. “Oh, fuck.”