I incline my head and proceed to tell him my plan.
The endgame will be the same.
Skye Matthews has wandered into my path again, and this time, that’s where she will stay. No matter what happens. Or what she feels about the matter.
Her future is set.
2
Skye
As cliché as it sounds, I feel his eyes before I see him. It feels as though the room grows quiet, and a million people are staring at me, but they all become a faint hum.
There is no need for an introduction. There’s also no need for anyone to tell me who this man is. I could be a hermit who never leaves my house and still know. His reputation proceeds him.
Tobias Kosta.
Newly minted billionaire. Notorious recluse. And absolutely, positively the most handsome man I have ever seen.
The newspapers don’t do him justice. Nor do the pictures that grace the internet. Dark hair. Eyes like the scales of a fish. Pale, blue, and rough. A perfect dusting of a five o’clock shadow on his sharp jaw almost completes the look, but the final piece is his tanned skin as if he was just off vacationing on a yacht somewhere.
From what I’ve heard, his father was a Greek millionaire, and his mother . . .
Well, that’s another story.
If the rumors were true, she was from Columbia. Or, at least, someone in his family was. It’s said—and again, any information on Tobias is limited, hermit and all—that his family used to have ties to Pablo Escobar.
Now, I’m not sure that’s true. But seeing as it’s also said half the drugs circulating this country were imported by him or his family, there might be substance to these allegations. Pun intended.
It doesn’t matter. Regardless of who he is and what his truth is, I can’t seem to pull my gaze away. I must, though, because I can see that the judge is about to enter from the corner of my eye.
I inhale deeply, calming my nerves, and then I do it. I break the hold he has on me.
I’m not one to normally lose myself. Never one to clamor over a pretty face. But jeez. He’s straight out of a Greek mythology.
A deity.
I tamp down the feelings swirling inside me and turn back to my client.
I assume my client is why Tobias is here.
They are direct competition. It’s rumored both businessmen run the drugs through this part of the country. I can’t say for certain what Tobias’s role is, but I obviously know enough about my client to know he is not on the up-and-up.
I also know I need to stop thinking about Tobias and get back to why I’m here. I am here to get this case thrown out before it even starts. Felix Bernard is too smart and employs too many lawyers for this to stick.
I won’t let it stick.
I highly anticipate that the judge will throw out the case today. It will never go to trial. There is no evidence, and seeing as I’m good at what I do, I have no doubt of the outcome of today. Time goes fast from this moment on. I speak. I make a motion to dismiss. State my case to the judge. And then the room goes quiet as we wait.
I keep my eyes locked as I listen.
The moment of truth. Time drones on as I wait. And then it happens. The case is dismissed. Not enough evidence to proceed to trial.
Once again, I did it.
I’m young and determined. I might only be a junior associate, but I have a perfect track record. My work is focused on being the best damn lawyer money can buy. I need my clients to trust me. I need my client to—
“Good job.” I hear from beside me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
My lips part. It never gets old. But despite the accolades, it doesn’t help the way my stomach tightens as Felix looks at me. I hate this man. How could I not? He is evil personified. But in the end, he’s the key to my objective. I plaster on my fake as hell smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Bernard.”
“Felix. Call me Felix. I believe we should be on a first-name basis after today. Don’t you think, Skye?” The way he practically purrs my name makes me cringe, and as if it couldn’t get any worse, it does. His head dips down. “We should go out to celebrate,” he says as he continues his perusal. His gaze skates over me in a creepy way. Another reason I hate this man.
If he wasn’t the key, I would tell him where to shove it, but unfortunately, I must play nice. Be the best lawyer for him . . . that’s what I must do.
“I’m so sorry, Felix.” When his name leaves my lips, it feels dirty. A desire to wash my mouth out with soap infiltrates my mind. “I have another obligation. A deposition at three. Rain check.”
Sugary sweet. Let him think it’s an option. That maybe he has a shot in hell. He doesn’t.
“I’m going to take you up on that.”
I have no doubt in my mind that he will, in fact, take me up on that. Leaning down, I grab my stuff from the table, place my things in my bag, and turn.
I look toward the back of the room, a part of me expecting a certain pair of light eyes to be watching, but nobody is watching me. He already left.
A small part of me can’t help but feel disappointed. I shouldn’t feel this after swimming with sharks for this long, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Pushing the thoughts away, I walk out of the building. There’s a lot of work to do today, and it’s not going to do itself.
3
Skye
The familiar scents of my youth penetrate my nose as I step farther into the space. A distinct combination of coffee, cigarettes, and the part that always makes my heart lurch . . . whiskey.
Not the good stuff, either. Not the bottles my clients consume. No pretty glasses here. No crystal with hefty price tags.
Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bottle is plastic, and he purchased it at the gas station. My chest squeezes tighter.
Striding through the foyer and into the living room, I don’t see him, but I know he’s here. Somewhere.
His usual spot in front of the small TV in the old beat-up recliner is vacant. The room is a mess regardless of it being empty. An old white throw blanket stretches across the floor. An afterthought from when he left the room.
I shake my head and continue walking. When I pass the kitchen, he’s not there either.
This room doesn’t fare better. If I thought the living room was a mess, this one makes it look like a sanctuary. The counter is littered with old takeout containers and empty beer cans.
The first thing I’ll do as soon as I leave is call a cleaning service for him. This can’t be healthy to live in.
Since he’s not in here drinking, he must be taking a nap.
It’s been rough for him, and it gets worse the older I get. He shouldn’t even be drinking. He promised me he wouldn’t anymore, not with his liver problems. If I had my way, I’d move him into a place closer to me. Someplace I can see him more often and where he’d be taken care of. He always took care of me. Now it’s my turn to take care of him. For as long as I can remember, it’s always been just us.
Sure, I have some memories from before, but as every year passes, they become more like a dream. Sometimes the past becomes so blurry, I wonder if I’m making it up, but I know I’m not.
Subconsciously, my hand lowers. The next thing I know, I’ve begun to rub the spot on my wrist. It’s a nervous tic. Most of the time, I don’t even realize I’m doing it. With a shake of my head, I keep walking through the hallway. My pace is slow, and I tiptoe to be quiet. That way, I won’t disturb him.