Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(54)

Deserved her too. After everything she’d put me through, having her in my bed was the perfect consolation prize.

She could go her merry way after I was done with her, probably to marry beneath her pedigree, now that Daddy dearest would be banished from the hedge fund company he managed and exiled from polite society.

Unfortunately for Arya, and maybe for myself, my opening statement included a presentation showing a dick picture of her father, which he’d sent a twenty-three-year-old intern, and which was enlarged on a screen in the middle of the room, pubes and half-mast erection intact.

I tried hard not to look at Arya while I explained to the jurors that her father had sent an image of his penis to someone younger than his own daughter, feeling sick to my stomach. And then ignored her after that, too, when my client tearfully explained on the stand how scarred she was by the (quite literal) revelation that her boss was a dick.

The first day of trial proceeded smoothly. The plaintiffs were compelling. The jurors warmed up to them. I gave an Oscar-worthy performance, making a show of listening and bunching my eyebrows together in concern at all the right places.

When Judge Lopez banged his gavel and said the court stood in recess, I turned around to Arya’s seat and found it empty.

I proceeded with the plaintiffs and Claire through the double doors of the courtroom, out to the foyer, breaking the day down to digestible bullet points for my clients. I descended the courthouse stairway, slipping between the grand columns. Rain clung to my suit. Across the street, a flash of rowdy chestnut hair I’d recognize anywhere disappeared behind the door of a coffee shop.

Arya.

“I’ll catch you back at the office.” I touched Claire’s arm, just as she turned toward me, saying, “Would you like to grab some coffee on our way so we could talk?”

She stopped, swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yes. Yes. Of course.”

With my eyes still glued to the coffee shop’s door, I crossed the street and strolled inside. Arya was already seated, cradling a cup of coffee at a high window-facing table, staring into it. I slipped into the stool in front of her, knowing full well that I was playing with matches next to a six-gallon barrel of explosives.

“How’re we feeling today?” I recognized on impact that it was the wrong thing to ask. How the heck did I think she was feeling? I’d just spent the last seven hours nailing her father’s metaphorical coffin closed before dumping it in the ocean.

Arya looked up from her coffee cup, a little disoriented. The rain knocked on the window in front of us.

“Aren’t lawyers supposed to be good with social cues? Take a hint,” she groaned, rubbing at her eyes.

“I’m more of a straight-shooting kind of guy.” I placed my briefcase between us.

She put the rim of her cup to her lips, nibbling on it. “Is that so? Here’s a truth bomb for you, then—I don’t want to talk to you, Christian. Ever.”

“Why’d you come here today?” I asked, ignoring her words. I didn’t make it a habit to harass women, or even give them the time of day unless they vied for it. But I knew Arya’s defense mechanism was pushing people away—we were cut from the same cloth—and wasn’t completely certain she wanted to be alone right now. “He didn’t even acknowledge you.”

“There was a picture of his penis the size of a movie screen in the middle of the courtroom. A little hard to look your child in the eye after that.”

“Exactly. You can’t possibly believe he’s innocent after that.”

“I’m not sure he is innocent at all.” She set her cup back on the table and spun it with her fingers absentmindedly. “I’m in the reasonable-doubt zone. But you are right. He has been ignoring me. He wouldn’t even take any of my calls.”

“That’s a form of guilt admission.” I grabbed the cup from between her fingers and took a sip. She took her coffee with no sugar and no milk. Just like me. “Which brings me to my original point—why are you here?”

“It’s hard to let go of your only family. Even if said family is horrible. It’s worse than if he’d died. Because if he died, at least I could still love him.”

Being the son of two asshole parents, I could relate.

“What about your mother?” I asked.

“She’s not much of a mother, to be honest. That’s why I think I managed to overlook the glaring signals from Dad. You said you’re not close to your parents, right?”

I smiled tersely. “Not particularly.”

“Only child?”

I nodded.

“Do you ever wish you had siblings?” She propped her chin on her fist.

“No. The less people in my life, the better. What about you?”

“I had a brother,” she mused, staring at the rain, which was coming down harder. “But he died a very long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes I think I will always be a half of something. Never a whole person.”

“Don’t say that.”

I’d never met anyone as whole as you, imperfections and all.

Suddenly, Arya frowned, cocking her head sideways as she studied me. “Wait, are you even supposed to talk to me?”

“You’re not a part of the case anymore. You no longer provide professional services to your father, and your name is not on the witness list.”