by Shenda Paul
Justice
Shenda Paul
Copyright © 2015 by Shenda Paul
Publish Green
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Minneapolis, MN 55401
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.
This eBook published in 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9944722-2-9
Cover design: T.W/S. Paul
Cover Image: © Vetre/Shutterstock
Dedication
Tony.
For Everything.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Preview - Angel
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Chapter One
An Unlikely Coupling: The Prosecutor And The Escort. The veiled censure makes my blood boil.
Personally, I don’t give a damn about the impact of this kind of sensationalist drivel. To me, it’s like water off a duck’s back, but I worry about its effect on Angelique. Her confidence has already taken a beating, delivered primarily by the tabloid press like this rag; and this latest broadside, despite its attempt at subtlety, could further crush her spirit. Equally troubling, it could cause her to question the wisdom of entering into a relationship with me.
I take a deep breath, tamp down my anger, and keep reading because I need to know exactly what we have to deal with.
Seeing Assistant District Attorney Adam Thorne in the company of a beautiful woman is hardly surprising. What had surprised was that his companion was none other than Angelique Bain, the woman at the center of the prostitution case involving Senator Justin Wade. Ms. Bain had, only weeks earlier, faced Mr. Thorne from the witness stand where, under his relentless questioning, she was forced to make humiliating admissions about her relationship with the senator.
Equally astounding was discovering that Ms. Bain is, in fact, an extraordinarily talented ballerina and the star in last night’s local production of Romeo and Juliet. The biggest shock, however, came when witnessing the intimacy between the prosecutor and highly paid escort. The pair appeared oblivious to their surroundings, caught up in an intimate bubble while chatting. Shown photographs of the couple taken last night, social observers of Mr. Thorne commented that they had never seen him as captivated by a female as he so obviously was by Ms. Bain.
One of Boston’s most wealthy and eligible bachelors, the prosecutor was last photographed in public with socialite beauty Lisa Delaney. Ms. Delaney, daughter of Judge Anthony Delaney, is a member of one of Boston's most respected families. Her appearance with the man, who many predict will be our next district attorney, sparked speculation about them being Boston's newest power couple. That conjecture seems to have been premature because Mr. Thorne’s taste in women has, very obviously, changed.
I turn to find Angelique’s face drained of color, her eyes fixated on the computer screen.
I shut the laptop firmly and wrap an arm around her. "It's nothing to be worried about," I assure her, urging her toward the sofa. She remains transfixed, so I do what I’ve longed to do so many times over the past weeks. I sweep her up and carry her across the room to sit on the sofa with her cradled in my arms, whispering over and over that it'll be all right; that, together, we'll weather this storm.
In time, I loosen my hold only to grasp her hands, afraid that if I break physical contact, she'll decide that it's not worth it; that I'm not worth it.
"We can't do this… your job…" she finally speaks, her voice ragged as she stares down at our entwined fingers.
"Angelique stop," I gently admonish, lifting her chin to look at me. My heart breaks at the mixture of shame and defeat reflected back at me. I cup her cheek, "I knew this would happen. I expected it."
"Adam, they’ll destroy your reputation. That woman—she's part of your world; you should be with her…"
"Do you care for me?" I interrupt.
"That's not …"
"Just answer me. Do you care for me?"
"You know I do."
"Tell me," I insist.
"I care for you," she says, a tear dropping onto our hands.
"And I care for you very much," I tell her, bringing my other hand to her face. "I know this is probably too fast for you, but I can no longer deny my feelings. I hoped we’d have some time before having to confront the media, but it’s happening, and we’re going to deal with it. I don’t regret being at that performance, Angelique. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world."
I know I’m about to push her, but I need to for both our sakes. I have to know, without a doubt, that Angelique wants this relationship, and she needs to believe in it, or she’ll never withstand the public scrutiny we’re bound to attract.
"Can you see a future with me?" I ask, and after a moment of agonizing silence, she nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Tell me," I insist.
"I see a future for us," she answers, and I lower my face to touch my mouth to hers. She wraps her arms around my waist as I tangle my fingers in her hair, drawing her close to deepen our kiss. My heart stammers as she surrenders, allowing me to explore her warmth in a kiss filled with passion, hope, and promise.
"I’ll do anything, everything to secure our future together," I assure her when, some time later, we’re settled on the sofa once more.
"Are you ready to talk about it now?" I ask.
"I’m worried… and scared," Angelique confesses.
"I’ll do everything I can to protect you."
"I’m not just afraid for me," she says with a hint of renewed agitation.
"How about I get us some tea, and we can talk while we have it," I offer.
"You don’t like tea, admit it," she challenges with a tiny smile I’m relieved to see.
"I could get used to it," I playfully counter.
"I’ll make you coffee," she says, her smile widening in response. I follow her into the kitchen — to help, but also because she’s still obviously emotional.
"Tell me exactly what you’re worried about," I ask when we’re seated in the living room once more.
"I’m concerned about your reputation, your job, of course... and your family," she says after a moment’s hesitation.
"I pursued a relationship with you with my eyes wide open, please don’t ever doubt that; and no harm
can come to my family. They want to support us in this."
She doesn’t seem appeased, so I place both of our cups on the table before taking her hands in mine. "I’m ready to deal with whatever comes up, and you have no idea just how strong and determined my family can be."
"What about your job, Adam? You can’t get involved with me; the press will hound you," she counters, anxiety evident in the way she bites her bottom lip. I free it, using my thumb to stop her from marking her skin.
"Angelique, being in a relationship with you shouldn’t affect or prevent me from doing my job. My growing feelings didn’t stop me from grilling you on the stand; not that I’m proud of that," I hastily add before continuing.
"No one can legitimately claim that I showed bias. If anyone in the media even dares to hint at impropriety, I’ll issue a public challenge to prove it and sue for libel if whoever made the assertion can’t."
"But what if you’re fired?"
"If that happens, it will negate the reasons I became a prosecutor. I do what I do because I want justice for victims of crime, and you were a victim; I wish you’d see that.
"How just would it be if I were fired because I entered into a relationship with someone who’d been taken advantage of? I wouldn’t want to remain in my job if that were the case. But, if it would make you feel better, I’ll speak to the DA about our relationship," I add at her imminent protest.
"Hush now," I soothe as her tears spill over. "I hate seeing you cry. I want to make you happy."
"You do make me happy; I’m just overwhelmed that you’d risk so much." She strokes my cheek, making my heart flip. I believed, for so long, that Angelique despised me that my heart reacts each time she initiates even the smallest physical contact.
I lift her hand from my face to kiss her palm. "Something you said earlier bothers me. Tell me why you’d think some other woman would be more suitable for me?"
"What?" I prompt as her eyes cloud over.
" I… you should know—" She hesitates, and I hold her gaze, silently communicating that I’ll wait until she’s ready.
"I didn’t love Justin," she eventually says, and I have to fight to maintain an open expression. The mere possibility that she might have loved him cuts like a knife.
"I didn’t ever love him," she adds as if reading my mind. "But I grew fond of him, and I foolishly believed he returned those feelings. I knew he accompanied other women, including Cynthia Buchanan, to social events. I also understood that I wasn’t in a position to object, but he didn’t once tell me he was in a serious relationship with anyone, so it was a shock to learn that he and Cynthia are expected to marry.
"Seeing them at the courthouse brought me face-to-face with the reality of my situation. I felt humiliated and even more ashamed when I realized you’d witnessed my embarrassment." She looks away, mortified, and I tug at her hand until she looks up at me.
"I’m not sure if you know this, but Justin and I were once friends; some might say we were the best of friends." Her eyes widen in astonishment, but I don’t stop to explain.
"Despite the obvious differences in our background and outlook on life, I always thought of him as a good man at the core, and he hadn’t, until recently, caused me to think otherwise. I understood the burden that his family’s history and his father’s expectations placed on him, yet I thought Justin capable of being his own man. But as I got to know him and Tom, I realized that they, like many others from that world, believe in their privileged positions too much; fundamentally, they don’t want to change. They may associate with people from the other side; they may even accept them as friends, but they’ll never view them as equals. I understood that, no matter how much they professed friendship, they would never consider me their equal.
"It didn’t upset me," I add at her troubled look, "I’d already dealt with those emotions when I learned the truth about my biological father. His family, like Justin’s, has wealth and power dating back over two centuries. Eleanor was young, beautiful, and innocent. Adam Winston wanted her, so he had her and then discarded her when she fell pregnant. He didn’t view her, or me for that matter, as being good enough to be part of his life.
"So you see, it’s not only because you were an escort that caused Justin to consider you unsuitable. Unless you were part of his world or could, in some way, advance his ambitions, I doubt he would ever have seen you as suitable. Cynthia Buchanan shares his background and has always been in love with him. Justin didn’t love her then, and I’m sure he doesn’t love her now; he tolerates her because a union between their families would serve his political ambitions.
"Most importantly, Angelique, you should realize that I’m not Justin Wade or anything like him in that regard. I’ve dated women from that world, but I have never seen a future with any of them, and most certainly not Lisa Delaney. So, if you’re afraid that I’m going through some phase, or that I’m looking to pass time with you before settling down to marry someone else, let me assure you that I’m doing none of those things.
"Only you; I’ve only ever seen and wanted a future with you."
She lets out a strangled sob and clambers onto my lap. I hold her for the longest time before raising her face for a kiss. I let her know with every stroke of my tongue, every thundering beat of my heart, just how much I want her.
When passion threatens to overwhelm me, I settle us back onto the sofa into the position we were in before Cait chose to interrupt our perfect day.
.
.
On Monday, I race from one meeting to another and, at lunchtime, end up gulping down a sandwich at my desk. It’s mid-afternoon when I finally receive the call from Rita to advise that the DA can accommodate the meeting I requested early that morning.
Bristly’s shocked, of course, when I tell him about my newfound relationship with Angelique, and his first question, predictably, is to ask when we became involved. I detail the timeline of every meeting, including my visits to the dance studio when I hadn’t even spoken to her. He then subjects me to a first-hand experience of just how lethal a prosecutor he’d been as he barrages me with question after question, from the time of our first meeting to the end of Justin’s trial. Finally, appearing to be somewhat mollified, he relaxes his stance.
"You could, of course, have made this a damned sight easier on yourself and everyone else by waiting, Thorne," he says, his even tone belying the severity of his words. I suffer a momentary pang of guilt, but I don’t come close to regretting my actions. I offer to resign if he feels it would be best for the department instead.
"Unless you’ve wantonly demonstrated bias or broken the law, neither of which I can see, there shouldn’t be a need for that or to dismiss you."
"Perhaps it would be better if I step down as lead counsel on the Cordi case. Jodi could take over, and I could second-chair."
"That won’t be necessary," he replies without hesitation. I assure him that Jodi’s more than capable.
"I understand Maddox’s talents," he tells me pointedly, "but I want you to prosecute." He then asks whether I’m sure it’s all worth it. I know that what he’s questioning is whether Angelique is worth it.
"I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life," I reply emphatically.
"I can see your mind’s made up. Just remember that these cases have attracted a lot of media attention and have cast an even bigger spotlight on you. You’re our best prosecutor and adroit at handling the media, but how do you plan on dealing with questions about Ms. Bain, Adam? Their goal will be to goad you into responding irrationally; they’ll be looking for reasons to cast doubt on your ability to do your job."
I start to answer, but he cuts me off. "The only time I’ve seen you even remotely lose your objectivity was when they last mentioned the young lady’s name. Don’t misunderstand me, I endorse what you said in Ms. Bain’s defense, but you know, as well as I do, that their current interest in her will escalate dramati
cally once news of your relationship gets out."
I tell him that at the first media question about my private life, I intend to make one, definitive statement on the matter. After further discussion about the pros and cons of my plan, we agree that I provide him with a copy of my proposed announcement by the end of business the next day.
"And Adam, you should know that I intend reviewing everything, including the court transcripts, related to the Wade case. I’ll also be questioning Jodi to check that your account matches hers. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but my priority is to protect the interests and reputation of this office," he says, looking me straight in the eye.
"No offense taken, Sir; I wouldn’t expect anything less," I assure him, grateful that the meeting’s gone better than anticipated.
The other bright spots in my day are Angelique’s text messages. I sent one first thing this morning to make sure she’s fine, and then, an hour before her matinee performance, I sent another wishing her luck. She responded to the first by letting me know she was working an early shift at Starbucks before the show and sent a second, sweet message of thanks for my good wishes. Both were signed with several symbols for a kiss.
Bec walks in just as I’m reading Angelique’s last text. "You look happy," she comments after handing me some documents to review.
"It’s been a good day," I acknowledge, ecstatic that I found no trace of yesterday’s doubt in Angelique’s messages.
It’s eight when I finally get home, have a quick shower and then settle down to make my much-anticipated call. Angelique answers almost instantly; I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing her say my name, especially when said with such apparent delight.
"How was the performance?" I ask.
"The audience loved it, I think, and it was so rewarding to meet with them after," she says. I listen attentively, enjoying the sound of her soft, husky voice as she relates anecdotes of the performance and conversations with the elderly audience members. When she asks about my day, I fill her in on my conversation with Bristly, which seems to ease her concern. She tells me, then, that Mom called and that they’ve agreed to meet the following day. My smile nearly splits my face when she adds that she’s decided to accept the job offer. "I’ll tell your Mom tomorrow," she says.