by Rina Kent
No one threatens me and gets away with it. No one.
I shake my head at that. I really sound like them right now, even though I’ve done everything possible to be separated from them.
In my digging about, I discovered that his father isn’t his biological one, but he’s still the foster son of a powerhouse English businessman, Ethan Steel, and has a twin and a foster sister. Said foster sister married into the King family, which is another influential name in the UK.
He comes from money and power, something I should’ve expected, but it still makes me antsy. I hate those two words. Money and power. They belong to the world I escaped from.
And I need to escape his orbit, too. Because even though he didn’t pay me a visit, I can feel him biding his time, waiting, pining for the right moment to attack.
If anyone is going to do that first, it’ll be me.
So I head to the open office area that situates the interns, junior associates, and some paralegals. The junior partners’ offices are on the opposite side, where they can overlook the interns if they open their blinds.
Knox’s are always open, giving everyone a 3D view through the glass wall of his office. It’s like he has nothing to hide.
And he doesn’t. From what I’ve learned, he’s a ruthless criminal defense attorney and is always in demand, probably because of his offensive style in court.
He’s known to be provocative, even toward the victims, which has earned him a notorious reputation. Naturally, he gets a lot of case requests, but I also found out that he refuses about eighty percent of them. Another thing that’s bizarre for lawyers, but apparently, the founding partners of W&S give him free rein on that. Which I assume is why he refused every other firm’s offer to join them.
When I come here, I pretend to be getting a coffee from the break area that’s dedicated to the staff and try to gauge if anything is different.
Usually, there’s nothing, and I’d have to sneak out before he notices me.
Today, however, is different.
The moment I step out of the elevator, the sound of hushed murmurs reaches me in waves. I slowly inch forward to find a small crowd watching a scene.
And the location is Knox’s office.
A girl stands in the middle, wearing a pale violet dress and matching heels. Her face is red and even from a distance, I can see the tears and anguish in her eyes.
She’s a myriad of motions; her hands flailing around as she talks, then she hugs herself and more tears follow.
My spine snaps in a line at the scene. It’s so similar to Mom’s when she was married to my abusive stepfather.
The self-comfort. The involuntary jerking. Even the tears that don’t seem to be planned.
In the midst of her small breakdown, Knox sits behind his desk, fingers forming a steeple at his chin, listening.
There’s not an ounce of emotion on his hard face. Not even the fake empathy some people wear as a façade.
He’s in his true element. Unfeeling. Completely detached from her anguish as if she and her grief don’t exist.
My nails dig into the heels of my palms as I clench my fists. Is that how my mom felt with Papa?
That he was too emotionless to feel for her?
That no matter how much she cried, he’d never see those tears or her pain? Is that why she refused to ask him for help?
“Twenty bucks says that he’ll reject her,” one of the interns, a brunette with darker skin, says.
“Call,” her colleague, a tall ginger male replies. “I say that he’ll accept her case.”
“No way.” The brunette shakes her head. “He hasn’t moved during her entire speech.”
“He’s just listening to the facts like he always does.” The ginger waves two bills. “Who’s with me?”
Not many are. A debate breaks out among them about how Knox doesn’t accept many cases and that he’s been on a rejection spree lately.
I’m half-listening to them, half-focused on the girl who keeps touching her hands, her elbow, anywhere she can reach.
“Who are we betting on?” a friendly voice asks, having just arrived to the party.
I immediately recognize him by the accent and slowly step back. It’s Daniel Sterling, another junior partner and Knox’s closest friend. If they’re not working or in court, they’re together.
Unlike Knox, Daniel specializes in international law and has a generally charming presence. Probably because the dimples make him appear friendly, but the jury is still out on whether or not he is.
Despite my spy skills, I haven’t figured him or Knox out. On the outside, they appear to be two hotshot Englishmen who came to study and work here. Their reputations are stellar—or mostly good, aside from their manwhorish ways—and they built their careers tremendously in so little time. They’re often in the limelight at social events and are the talk of magazines and the press—the press I only became aware of after I became Jane, since I didn’t have hardly any focus on it as Anastasia.
However, something tells me that’s not the end of it. I lived in a dangerous world long enough to know that what lurks beneath the surface is often much more nefarious than what’s visible.
“We’re betting twenty bucks on whether or not Knox will reject her,” the brunette replies without looking at him.
“I’ll raise you a hundred on that. He’ll reject her. See that slight twitch of his fingers? It means he’s bored and will kick her out in about twenty seconds.”
Everyone turns around to Daniel and he grins at them, showing his dimples.
They’re flustered for a second, only a second, but then he hops to a sitting position on one of the desks and beckons them over. “Anyone here have popcorn?”
Low laughter breaks out and then they’re all surrounding him, watching the show and chatting among themselves.
I stay on the outskirts, feeling like I need to be there for some reason.
“Three, two…” Daniel counts with his fingers. “And go.”
At that exact moment, Knox stands up, opens the door to his office, and directs the girl out.
She doesn’t move, sniffling and jerking in place, then she goes to him. “Please…I have no one to ask for help.”
“Yes, you do. A thousand other attorneys, in fact. I’ll have my secretary send you a list of recommendations.” He’s speaking calmly albeit emotionlessly, like when he promised to find what I’m hiding the other day. “Besides, I’m a criminal defense attorney. Come back when you need to stay out of prison.”
“I don’t care. I’ve done my research and I know you aren’t afraid of a challenge and could take on a civil case if you wanted to.”
“I just said I don’t want to. Best of luck finding another attorney.”
“No one is like you. Please. They’re scared to go against him.”
“Not my problem. Have a nice day.”
And with that, he goes back to his office and closes the door and pulls down the blinds. The girl nearly collapses and has to grip the wall for balance.
“Told you.” Daniel grins. “You’ll pay me later. Now, back to work.”
They buzz to their desks and he strides to his office humming a tune.
The scene from a moment ago vanishes as if it never existed.
Everyone seems to have forgotten about the girl who’s slowly walking to the elevators, still using the wall to hold her up.
I follow her and click the call button when her hand shakes, unable to push it.
“Thank you.” She sniffles, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she’s touching her elbow again, and there’s a spot there, a hint of something violet that seems to have been hidden with foundation.
My chest squeezes and all I can see is how Mom used to do the same to hide the bruises, especially from me.
“Don’t take it personally,” I whisper. “He doesn’t accept many cases.”
“I know, but he was my last hope. I heard he doesn’t care who he goes up against, but m
aybe he does. Maybe everyone is right. Maybe I shouldn’t have started this.”
“No,” I tell her without thinking. “Don’t say that, please. You’re doing the right thing.”
She looks up at me then, her dark eyes filled with moisture, but she’s not crying anymore, because there’s a little smile there. “Thank you for saying that. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
The elevator dings open and she smiles again before she steps in.
But I don’t like the way it disappears the moment she’s inside, how her shoulders hunch and the tears come back.
Maybe there’s something I can do.
A crazy idea forms in my mind.
Knox told me he’s coming after me, but he won’t know what hit him when the tables are turned.
8
KNOX
I clench and unclench my fingers, but it’s impossible to keep typing.
The hurricane that’s brewing inside me is unable to be squashed or derailed. It’s not only eating everything in its path, but it’s also destroying any semblance of calm I’ve held on to for decades.
The shadows crowd over my shoulders, whispering, murmuring, getting sickeningly close to my ears.
They started when I was five and haven’t stopped.
They never will.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I push away from my desk and inhale a few sharp intakes of air, but it’s like I’m breathing smoke, thick and foggy and fucking asphyxiating.
It’s not Sandra Bell’s words that play in my head like a distorted record anymore, it’s not her voice that I’m hearing.
It’s mine and my twin sister’s.
And they’re more haunting than hers, more fucking deranged and raw. I can still smell the rotten stench of our hellhole. The pungent smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and disgusting male musk.
It was twenty years ago, but it feels like only twenty minutes.
The twenty minutes Sandra spent telling me her story.
I can listen to tales of murder all day long and not blink an eye. I should’ve been desensitized to child abuse by now, too.
I’ve come a long way from when it all happened. I didn’t stand there, waiting for the hit.
I fucking punched back and rose above the shadows and their bloody rotten smell. I grabbed my sister’s hand and ran away without a look back, so why the fuck are those shadows dragging me under again?
My phone vibrates and I’m about to hit Ignore. The last thing I should do in my state is talk to people. They wouldn’t recognize me when I’m like this. I’m not the charming, fun-loving Knox they know, I’m the Knox from that hellhole.
A kid in an adult’s body.
A man who still sees his demons.
The picture that flashes on the screen makes me pause.
Teal. My twin sister.
In it, she’s in the middle while both her husband and son kiss each of her cheeks. But that’s not all, she’s smiling.
No, laughing.
When we were growing up, she never had any of these joyful expressions. She also barely spoke for years and only when it was absolutely necessary.
But look at her now. A wife, a mother, and a successful businesswoman.
My finger hovers over the Ignore button, but I don’t press it. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t reply, but Teal is different. Teal is my other half.
Falling back onto my seat, I accept the video call, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, T.”
My sister and I obviously aren’t identical twins, so she doesn’t look much like me. Her eyes are darker, bigger, and used to be sadder. Not now, though. There’s a light in them, a spark.
Life.
That’s what she lacked until she met her husband during our senior year in secondary school.
She’s not smiling back, though, a deep frown etching between her brows.
“Where’s my nephew?” I search behind her. “How dare you video call and not show me Remi?”
“He’s having a bath with his father.” She inches forward to the screen and her black hair follows the motion, framing her face. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just got a weird feeling. You know, twin hunch.”
“There’s no such thing as twin hunch, T. Especially for fraternal twins, so you’re just making that up to get information.”
“Stop the lawyer talk, Knox, and yes, there’s such a thing as a twin hunch. That’s how we found each other when I was lost in the market while we were kids, remember?”
I grunt.
“So?” she insists, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s going on?”
“Work.”
“And?”
“And shagging.” I grin. “You want to hear details about that?”
“Ew, no, and you’re not changing the subject.”
“You’re a pain in the arse, T.”
“And glad of it. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should I smash your Metallica collection?”
“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
“Yes, I will if you don’t spill.”
“I’m bribing Dad to watch them for me, so screw you, T.”
“I’ll just bribe Dad more and have him film me while I do it, then I’ll take the next plane to New York so I can find out what’s going on myself.”
“I’ll call Ronan and tell him his wife is on the loose.”
“Joke’s on you because I’ll just bring him with me so he’ll annoy the shit out of you.”
I groan.
“That’s what I thought. Now, spill, Knox.”
I release a sigh. I can win a million battles in court but not one against Teal’s sense of infuriating perseverance. Especially when she senses that something is wrong.
“It’s really just a case, T.”
“What type of case?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Apparently, I do.” She softens her tone. “Please, Knox, tell me. I won’t be able to sleep if I’m worried about you. Isn’t it enough that I can’t see you as much as I want? I feel like you’re slipping away.”
“I’m here, T. I’ll always be here.” I inhale deeply, thinking about how to deliver this.
The best option is to lie, but she’ll see straight through that. No matter how much I’ve perfected my façade, she’s the only one who detects my bullshit and calls me out on it.
She’s waiting for me, her face blank, but she doesn’t say anything.
Words never were and never will be her strength. She’s also really a pain in the arse, because she knows she can get to me with a look alone. That’s how she used to communicate her discomfort to me when we were kids and she didn’t speak.
After a moment of fruitless deliberation, I say, “A woman wanted me to represent her because she’s suing her father for sexual abuse and is demanding monetary compensation.”
That look returns, the dimmed one that kills all the light in her eyes. Eyes that were dead for so long and finally started being alive ten years ago. That’s gone now as if, like me, she’s back to that hellhole in Birmingham. The hole filled with the stench of alcohol, drugs, and men.
And I want to fucking shoot myself. This is why I don’t want to tell her, why I keep it all buried inside.
I’m a fucking bastard, but I had one purpose—protecting my baby sister.
And I just screwed it up with flying colors.
“Listen, T, it’s not…”
“I knew it,” she says in a calm tone.
“Knew what?”
“You’re hiding things from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything. It’s just work. There’s really nothing you should worry about.”
“But it’s affecting you. I can see the hardness forming on your face, Knox.”
“I’m fine.”
“I said that, too, and we both know how that ended up.”
“I’m a criminal defense
attorney, T. I’ve handled worse than this.”
“Worse, yes, but not that exact subject.”
“Didn’t you tell me to defend those who are as defenseless as we were?”
“Not if it triggers you, not if it takes away your humanity and steals you from me.”
“Who’s stealing who?” a male voice calls from her end before Ronan, her husband, appears by her side. He’s shirtless and carrying a half-naked Remington in his arms. They’re both wearing towels and their hair is wet. Is that shampoo on Remi’s head?
“Daddy…” My nephew claps, then points at me. “Uncle Nokth…”
That’s what I am to my three-year-old nephew—a gibberish of consonants and vowels.
“Hey, there, buddy.” I smile at him, thankful for their interruption. If they hadn’t shown up, the conversation with Teal would’ve veered into disastrous territory.
“Hey, Uncle Nokth!” He claps again. “Daddy made me a bath.”
“That’s right. Who’s your favorite?” Ronan gives him a fist and he bumps it, giggling uncontrollably.
“Daddy!”
“Okay, go change now and let me talk to your uncle Knox.” Teal kisses her son’s cheek.
“Not until we clear this whole thing up.” Ronan leans forward. He passed almost all of his genes to Remi, from the brown eye color to the straight aristocratic nose that he himself inherited from his earl father. “Are you going to steal my wife, Knox? Because Remi and I won’t allow it.”
“Won’t allow it,” Remi repeats, mimicking his father’s frown.
“No way. In fact, I have work to do, so you can take her back.”
“Knox, don’t you dare!” Teal objects.
“Bye, Remi.”
“Bye, Uncle Nokth!!”
My smile drops as soon as I disconnect.
I attempt to get my head occupied with work, but after an hour or so of reading a case file, it’s impossible to ward off the tension that’s building in my shoulders.
So I opt to get out and change the scenery.
Preferably by fucking someone.