Zeus (Contemporary Mythos Book 6)
Zeus: Chapter 12

Not only was the trial weighing heavy on my mind, but the possibility of being deported and the only two solutions I had were as well. One would destroy the career I’d built for myself in New York. The other might destroy my dignity. Possibly. I didn’t even really know this guy, minus what I could feel from him and what he shared about himself thus far, which wasn’t a lot. Not to mention how he made me feel. It wasn’t as if my first marriage ended all that well—maybe love wasn’t the key. Part of me wanted to tell him no, simply so he didn’t get his way. Petty? Childish? Maybe.

I wanted to be angry at him, not only for using my misfortune as leverage but the repeated confusing moments of sexual encounters. But try as I might, the fury would dissipate, and I’d be ravenously curious and hungry for him all over again. What held me there? What kept me coming back for more? Like freshly wiped glass, I could see straight through to his true nature. Something ate at him, made him leak desperation from his pores, made him smell hopeful, and I wanted to know why. I’d kept opening myself to him, but he did the exact same thing for me. Why?

Olivia snapped in front of my face. “Thinking about Argentina still?”

Argentina. The broom closet kiss. Yesterday in my office…

“That one couple I caught watching is certainly still thinking about Argentina,” I grumbled, sulking in the back seat of the cab as it whisked us to the courthouse.

When Zane had stranded me in the middle of pouring rain after nearly driving me to orgasm, an older couple under a nearby canopy had gasped, staring at me wide-eyed. It unsettled me that their watching wasn’t what bothered me. It was them witnessing Zane bailing on me. I’d waved at them, offered a small smile, and returned to the reception. The couple was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the night, so lord only knows what they’d gone off to do.

Olivia scrolled through her phone, frowning. “You would think with all the phones in existence, one person would’ve recorded it.”

“Did you seriously Google that? To see me grinding on Zane?”

Glancing up from her screen for a millisecond, she shrugged. “So, what? You’re both hot. I did, however find this smoking dance number from Magic Mike Live.” She shoved the phone in my face. “Lookie, here.”

It was a video recorded by a screaming group of women audience members—a tall man with long dark hair danced provocatively with a blonde woman on an elevated clear stage, rain pouring over them throughout the dance.

Gently, I pushed the phone back to her. “Last thing I need right now is my mojo going into overdrive. I need my head clear.”

After watching the video for several more seconds, Olivia tossed her phone in her pocket. “So you almost had sex in public, big bloody deal. Do you have any idea how many times I have?”

“Seriously?”

“The beach, in the back of a car in a Macy’s parking garage, the bottle-o,” she counted on her fingers as she recalled.

“Wait. You had sex in a liquor store?” I bit back a smile.

“Yeah. It was out of the view of security cameras.” Her tone suggested she’d been mildly insulted I was surprised.

“Oh, then that makes all the difference.” Grinning, I shook my head, and turned my face toward the window, groaning at the standstill traffic.

“Here’s what I don’t understand. Why haven’t you two fucked already?” Olivia leaned toward me, her arms slapping on my lap.

I shot a look at the driver in the rear-view mirror, hoping he’d pretend he couldn’t hear our conversation. The arousal ebbing from him suggested otherwise.

“It’s some sincerely screwed up game we’re playing. A tug for power, if you ask me.” My groin pulsed, thinking about Zane’s fingers inside it. I pinched my thigh.

Focus on the case.

“It sounds like you’re losing this battle, Keir Keir. You may as well lower the wall and get something good out of it.”

A man with dark hair and a tan Burberry jacket whizzed past the cab, hurriedly talking on his cell phone and running to a coffee vendor on the corner. My stomach fluttered and then deflated when the man turned around, showing his face. Not Zane.

“Maybe.” But I needed to know more about him. And after the trial today, he was going to tell me whether he liked it or not.

When we walked into the courthouse, Zane paced the foyer, talking to someone on his cell phone. As if sensing my presence or something, his gaze snapped over his shoulder when I entered his proximity, and he grinned.

“Just get it done,” he said before hitting his thumb on the screen and slipping it into his pocket. “Well, you look spry this morning.” His eyes panned to my lips before snapping back up.

One look from this goddamned man and everything he did to me in my office yesterday flooded my brain, making a small whimper in the back of my throat.

“I’ll uh—I’m going to meet you in the courtroom, Keir. Yeah?” Olivia patted my arm before walking away.

I’d absently nodded at her, only half hearing what she said.

“What the hell were you even doing at the courthouse yesterday, Zane? How many people saw you walk in and out of there?” A sudden panic twisted my gut.

After scanning the area, he pressed a hand between my shoulder blades and led me to a vacant corner. “No one saw me. I assure you.”

“How is that possible? Did you crawl through a damn window or something?” I crossed my arms in a huff, glaring up at him, ignoring the continued pulse between my legs. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He shook his head as he narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you save all the questions for the trial, hm?”

“You aggravate me to no end.”

He bit his lip. “You keep telling yourself that, counselor.” His mouth lowered to my ear. “Because you didn’t seem mad in the slightest with my fingers inside you.”

His scent. How close he was. The sizzle that tantalized my skin. All of it was enough to have me moaning in the hallway.

I put a hand on his chest, which was—a horrible idea. Instead of pushing him immediately away as planned, tingles coursed over my palm, radiating from his skin through the shirt. “How did you know how to dance like that?”

“Been around. Learned a thing or two.” He didn’t step away from my touch.

And I didn’t pull my hand back. “I’ve never danced like that before.”

“Well—” He slid forward, pressing my hand between our almost touching chests. “—when given the opportunity, I can be an amazing lead.”

I gulped. There was no hiding it.

“Don’t let dirty thoughts distract you too much, Miss Bazin. I expect the ‘Bulldog’ to challenge me in there.” He stepped away, catching my hand in his when it fell from his chest.

Anger. Lust. Determination.

With a final smirk, he let go of my hand and whisked into the courtroom.

After composing myself and slapping my face several times to float back down to planet Earth, I readied for the fight of my life.

The trial ran smoothly at first, with Zane not throwing any curveballs or surprises as I’d expected. The usual questioning and presenting of evidence—receipts, digital evidence captured from computers, things of that nature. It was when we started to call in witnesses that he began his usual Zane bullshit.

I’d just finished questioning the accused’s hairdresser, confirming they talked about how much Melissa wanted to kill her husband and that she could get away with it. When I passed the table, allowing Zane to rise for his turn with the witness, he slid a piece of paper to the corner and bobbed his brow.

Too curious to ignore, I bit the bait and read to myself:

Tell me the truth. Are you thinking about it right now?

He drew two boxes: One with a yes next to it, the other—also a yes.

Grinding my teeth, I snatched the pen as he brushed past me. He adjusted his tie with a smug grin. I drew my own “no” box and circled it several times, adding: Because I’m a professional.

“Miss Nichols, how well did you know my client?” Zane asked the hairdresser witness, slipping one hand in his pants pocket.

“Pretty well, I’d say. We talked a lot, and she came in for her hair every six weeks.”

Where was Zane going with this?

“Right. So, you’re saying gossip and rumors never ever happen in a hair salon?” He flashed a charming grin to the women sitting on the jury stand.

They all wanted to smile, everyone could see it, but they held back by either adjusting in their seats or covering their mouths with a hand.

“I mean, it’s possible?” Miss Nichols answered, shrugging.

Zane walked toward the jury, his debonair swagger plain as day. “So, it is possible my client was simply venting about trouble at home and not actually planning her husband’s demise, as you so eloquently put it?”

Fuck.

Miss Nichols gulped and looked first at me, then the judge, as if hoping I’d object to the question. How could I?

“Please answer the question, Miss Nichols,” the judge said, nodding.

“Yes, it’s possible.”

Zane smiled and patted the corner of the stand before turning on his heel. “No further questions, your honor.” He sauntered back to the table, sliding the paper I’d written on with two fingers toward him, a light chuckle fluttering from his chest.

I folded my arms and crossed my legs, forcing my attention in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied him writing again and risked craning my neck to look. Like a third grader guarding anyone copying his work, he lowered his shoulder to block the paper.

“Miss Bazin,” the judge’s voice boomed.

Jolting in my chair, I snapped my attention to her. “Yes, your honor?”

“I asked if you have any further witnesses to present?”

Olivia snickered at my side and nudged me under the table.

“Yes, your honor. I do have one final witness.” Rising, I flattened my jacket. “The prosecution calls Miguel Huarez to the stand.”

Surprise. Anger. Fear.

The emotions swirling through the courtroom often had my head spinning, which made for complete exhaustion at the end of every day of trial. Between squelching the feelings in the air and the mental mind game of being a good lawyer, it took every ounce of gasoline in me, including reserves. But I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.

As I shimmied past the table, Miguel made his way to the witness stand, and I caught Zane’s intrigued grin. Miguel was a family friend who’d known Mr. and Mrs. Daniels for over a decade, which I had him confirm from my first few questions. I then had him confirm Melissa’s sudden change in behavior leading up to the time of the incident, how good of a dad her late husband was to their children, and how her husband was the type to avoid confrontation at any cost. Once satisfied I’d pulled at the jury’s heartstrings, making them sympathize for the unsuspecting dead husband, I concluded.

Zane slid a paper to me again as I passed, and I yanked it toward me with more force than last time.

It read: Do you like me? With two boxes again, yes and no.

His gaze caught mine, making my stomach clench, my throat drying as I thought back to that kiss, the feral look in his eyes as he walked toward me in my office. Grinding my molars, I wrote “hell” above “no” and checked the box several times.

Chuckling, he balled the paper as he stood and re-did his top jacket button. After tossing the paper into the closest wire wastebasket he spun to face Miguel.

“Mr. Huarez, you were very close with the Daniels. And it sounds like you were at their house often, is that correct?”

Miguel squinted at Zane. “Yeah. That’s right. Me and Larry were tight. Watched sports, talked politics, sometimes smoked cigars.”

I caught Melissa rolling her eyes from the table next to ours.

“So, you would know about Larry and Melissa’s sex life, correct?”

Slapping my palms on the table, I stood. “Objection, your honor. Their sex life has no relevance to the motive.”

Sex. Sex. Sex. That’s all this man ever thought about.

“Sustained. Mr. Vronti, please reword your question or specifically address the relevance?” The judge adjusted her glasses.

“Absolutely, your honor. I’m merely attempting to have the jury consider the possibility of the emotions that can stir when a marriage is unsatisfactory in the bedroom.”

Fucking. Fuck. Who was this guy?

The judge tapped her finger on her podium before nodding. “Overruled. Mr. Huarez, please answer the question.”

Fuming, I slowly sat back down.

Olivia leaned over, gulping. “Holy balls. He is good.”

Zane flashed me a villainous grin over his shoulder before he continued his questioning. I knew from the moment he breezed into the meeting room that first day this wouldn’t be easy. But what I hadn’t realized was not only would it be difficult to fight him in the courtroom, it proved increasingly difficult to fight my growing attraction for him.

The trial lasted for several hours before the judge dismissed us for the day. Zane hadn’t slid me any further notes, but the smugness and arrogance never ceased. What irritated me to no end, however was his arrogance was somewhat warranted. The man knew what he was doing and could work the courtroom like a surgeon with precise, unwavering movements.

Once everyone filed out, I shoved my paperwork into my briefcase before turning to Olivia. “I’m going to grab some dinner and head home. Meet up with you tomorrow?”

“Yup. Probably going to grab some gyros myself. That cucumber sauce is calling my name.” She rubbed her tummy before frolicking away.

My elbow brushed with Zane’s as we turned for the walkway at the same time, glaring at each other as we walked pace for pace to the doors exiting the courtroom.

“Zane, we need to talk. And we need to talk now,” I barked once we were alone in the hallway.

Zane did a quick glance at our surroundings and gently grabbed me by the crook of the arm. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“What?”

He pulled me into a nearby holding cell and locked the door behind us.

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