Disgust.

That's what runs through me as I sit through a debrief of a deadbeat case with a deadbeat client. A nobody that potentially abuses his wife, and is sitting in my face feeling smug about it. His representative drones along about facts that aren't reaching me, and I glance at James who looks like he could kill. If it's one thing we don't tolerate, it's men putting their damn hands on women.

I stare into the eyes of the man who expects me to create him a deal. A smirk rests easy on his face, and I don't miss the way his eyes travel to the slight opening of my blouse. James abruptly coughs, gaining our attention, and he beckons me over. I keep my stare for another minute before getting up to stand next to James.

"Are you going to represent him?"

"No."

"So, why are we still listening to this case?" he exasperates, raising his voice as he talks.

My eyes harden at the tone of his voice, causing him to straighten up. "Lower your voice, and watch your tone when you talk to me. I know how to handle this, so sit down and do it quietly."

I've handled more cases like this before James even appeared, and I don't appreciate when I'm questioned. He is my friend, but he should know that I would never represent a man like that. I plan on putting him in his place, and in Jail while I'm at it. James sit down with a huff, and I give him a look before turning around with a calm smile. The representative looks relieved and offers for me to sit down.

I take my original seat in front of my wanted client, and return the stare that he was offering. I tune out everything his representative began to say, only one thing on my mind. He won't leave my office feeling satisfied, and he won't go the day without being put in handcuffs. I'll make sure of that. His eyes wavers down to my chest, studying the opening as if it's putting him in a trance.

I lean forward as his representative finishes up his presentation, a satisfied smile gracing his lips.

"Will you take him? I can schedule a court date for next month, and that'll give you enough time to build a case against his wife."

"Can I speak with...?"

"Dylan," the man says, grinning at the fact that I asked.

"Dylan," I repeat, "can I speak with him alone?"

The representative takes that as a positive sign, and packs up his briefcase before offering to get coffee with James. He looks as if he'd rather die than go, but he plasters a kind smile on his face as he leads the way. My door clicks closed, letting silence envelope my office. I listen for a second longer, and hear their footsteps trail down the hall. I'm sure Dylan's representative wouldn't want to hear what I have to say, so I'll spare him.

I stand up, ignoring Dylan's presence completely as I fix myself a cup of tea. Courtesy of Alisha who gifted the maker to me.

"You wanted to be in here with me to fix a drink? C'mon sweetheart, let's stop the games."

I turn to see his eyes lift from my ass, and refocus on my breasts. I keep my calm composure and take a sip of my tea, wishing the slightest bit of alcohol was mixed in it. I lean against my secondary desk, watching as Dylan drinks me in, arousal evident in his statue. I don't have to glance down to know that he's hard, and I don't have to be a rocket scientist to know the thoughts that are swarming in his rotten mind.

He thinks he charmed me. He thinks he seduced me with that god awful smile, and now we're going to do something fun in my office. I feel sorry that he thinks his cock is enough to woo any woman; it's delusional on a completely different level. It'll put me in the greatest mood when his eyes crinkle in despair and fear; when he hears that he'll be fresh candy for the men and maybe certain ladies.

I continue to watch as he adjusts himself before stepping closer to me. A part of me wishes he steps close enough for me to find an excuse to stab my heel through his foot, but I know that won't do me any favors. Personal satisfaction can't get put above my work, unfortunately.

"My lawyer called you Ms. Caddel," he says, showing that ugly smile of his. Almost makes me hope that his teeth will fall out to spare him the tragedy of such a sight. But, it serves him right. "What can I call you, sweetheart?"

"You should call me the same," I answer.

Another step forward.

"Awh, that's no fun. You know my first name—maybe my entire government. Isn't it only fair that I know yours...sweetheart?"

I set my tea down before standing up straight. I was okay with toying with him; I was okay with letting him bathe in the thought of being let go with no consequences, but play time's over. Hiding my disgust for a man can only last for so long.

He takes another step forward, and I see the way he enjoys towering over me. But the arousal isn't there, and neither is the fear. He's so driven by self ego, and narcissism, that he can't tell. I keep my silence, wondering how fast someone can put him in his place and have him quivering at their feet. I could ensure it happens. To ensure that every bruise he ever marked upon a woman gets returned back to him tenfold.

"I don't think you'll want to know my name seeing as I'm about to ensure your arrest," I comment, keeping my calm stare.

Confusion laces his face, and I discreetly drum my fingers on my desk in satisfaction. Dylan stands up straighter, but he puts on his signature smirk to cover up his slip.

"Is that some type of role play, baby? I'm into that."

"I'm into men on their knees. Someone like you. I'm sure the men in jail would do an awesome job at making it a reality. Don't you think?"

This time he falters completely, and his playful, egotistical front is put to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you forget where you are, sweetheart? You're in a law firm, and I'm the lawyer that owns the damn thing. I don't favor men who put their hands on women, and especially vulnerable women. I find you repulsive, and I won't rest today until I get word that an abomination got put in cuffs for good."

Dylan's jaw locks, and he fixes me with a hard glare. I pick up my tea before taking a longer sip, and peek over my cup. I can see that he looks distraught, but the snarl curling at his lip sends a tingle of satisfaction through my body. I want him to be upset. I want him to feel like his life is over, and I want his wife here to throw the fucking cuffs on him, herself.

I set my cup down as Dylan reproaches me, stepping much closer than before. His breath fans my face, but I continue to keep my calm composure, instead of showing the disgust that I feel towards him.

"You're job is to keep me on the streets," he states, his voice attempting to sound deeper, "I suggest you do your fucking job."

"I suggest you back the fuck up," I retort, keeping eye contact.

"Don't play with me. I have a wife to get home to, and a lot of fucking to make up for, so be fucking useful and get me the fuck home! No charges!"

He steps closer, backing me further into my desk, but I don't move. I'll stomp that damn hole in his foot. Self Defense, and I'll lengthen his sentence until people can live on damn Jupiter.

"Life." I say, clearly, "Look outside, look at my ass, look at that damn miniature cock that strokes your ego because I swear you will live the rest of your life in agony. I'll make sure of it, and I'll make sure that everyone knows you like sex and you like it rough. Want a tip? When you bend over, spread your legs. They like that."

Dylan slams me back into my desk, the edges pushing into my back. He grips my neck, his double wedding band digging into my skin. I sigh, fixing him with a bored stare, and that urges him to squeeze tighter.

"You will help me."

"Or what?" I taunt, "you're going to treat me like your wife? Threaten me, Dylan? Whine until you piss your pants, and I agree to help because you're fucking pathetic?"

His eyes flash, and his grip lessens, but he's still on me.

"Get your damn hands off me, or I'll make sure that you're dead in the first week of lockup," I threaten, whispering the promise.

Dylan scoffs, assuming it's a bluff.

I stare into his eyes, showing him the truth that lie behind mine, and forgetting that I apply the law. But, when a man has his filthy ass hands on me, against my will—I can wish death upon them until my lungs give out.

"Get. The fuck. Off me," I state, a little louder.

Dylan keeps his eyes on me before slowly removing his hand. He backs up with hatred storming in his eyes, and I'm sure mine are back to the calm hue that was displayed before.

"Aren't you glad you got me?" I ask, pulling on a sweet smile as James and the secondary lawyer filter their way back into my office. "After all, I am the best."

"She is, Dylan, that's why I suggested her," his representative says, smiling greatly.

I nod, and send a look to Dylan who forces a grateful smile. James looks between us, but says nothing as he offers me a coffee. I take it, letting the warmness spread through me. I cut my eyes towards James when his widen at the sight of my neck. He keeps his silence, but continues to stand by my side.

I send another kind smile to the lawyer in front of me, "thank you for choosing me, I'm honestly honored. I'll be in touch by the end of the day, so don't go too far, yeah?"

"Yes, of course! I'll keep an eye on this one. Thank you so much, Ms. Caddel."

We shake hands, and Dylan avoids my gaze as he lags behind his representative. I wait until the door is firmly closed before turning around to set down the coffee. James spins me around, and his half glare is focused on the marks that stung on my neck, and throat.

"What the fuck happened, Z? What did he do?"

James' voice raises in worry, and I let him carefully examine my neck because I know he'll have a panic attack if he doesn't. He turns my head left and right before standing upright. I stop him before he can try to catch up with Dylan, and offer him a calm smile.

"I handled it, J. These are nothing compared to what he'll go through for the rest of his life; I promise you that."

"Should I get Officer Ruey on the line?"

"Of course, James. We've got work to do, and call his wife while you're at it."

James nods, and he goes to leave before suddenly stopping.

"Should I grab you some makeup?"

"For what?" I ask, touching my neck, "These don't need covering when they serve as a reminder of the bastard who's life I'm about to ruin."

James nods with an admiring smile, and goes to leave again.

"And James?"

"Yeah?"

"Clear your schedule for tomorrow. I think we both need that break."

"Okay, Z" he says, with a brighter smile. Then he's gone.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS (even though I'm a day late) BUT HERE'S AN UPDATE ANGELS! 🎄💚

If you celebrate these holidays, I hope it was okay! Tell me what you got, or what you did!

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DOUBLE QUESTION:
1) What do you think is going to happen to Dylan?
2) What do you think about Ziya in this chapter? The immediate switch up when James and the lawyer came back into the room 👀

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Okay, see you later alligators 💚