He regards me then. “Well, you look dreadful.”
Curran didn’t think so.
I move to the dining room table, arranging my law books and scribbled notes so he’ll take the hint that I have more important things to do than be insulted.
“Is it true, what that simpleton of a police officer said?”
It’s all I can do not to fling one of my texts at his face. Five more months, I remind myself, taking a full breath. “Yes. You probably passed the officer he was replacing.”
“I meant about you assisting with an important case.”
Okay. Now I see where he’s going. “Yes. But it’s a case I can’t discuss.”
“Even with me?” he challenges, his seedy grin firmly in place.
That may work on his flunkies, but following his obnoxious remark about Curran, I’m done playing nice. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the dealings within the DA’s office.”
He expected me to tell him, and is now pissed I denied him. “At least tell me who you’re working under.”
“Declan O’Brien,” I answer, thinking I’m tossing him a meaningless bone. But when his eyes widen, I realize I made a huge mistake.
“Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien?” he repeats.
I close my eyes, realizing what I did, and what he’ll expect. “Yes,” I bite out.
“He’s rapidly making his way up the political and professional ladder, a rare feat considering the amount of intellect and talent under Miles Fenske’s watch.”
His voice seems to fade. My father is no longer there, too caught up in another opportunity for gain and prestige. “There’s been talk that Fenske is grooming him to take over his position when he steps down. Others insist that with his charm and astuteness, he’ll have no problem gaining momentum in the political arena.” He laughs without humor. “That is if one of the more renowned firms doesn’t acquire him first. The possibilities are endless,” he mutters.
I can see the wheels turning, and it makes me sick.
He glances up, appearing almost surprised I’m still there. But then something shifts in his gaze and he edges closer. “How well do you know him?”
“Not well,” I lie. “I’m only helping him with research—”
“Then get to know him, Contessa,” he hisses. “Are you that blind? This is a golden opportunity—being shoved directly in your face. Use it to become something of worth for once.”
I shove my hands deep into my pockets when I realize how badly they’re trembling. “I’m trying, Father. Don’t you think I know that this can lead to job opportunities I’ve only dreamed of—”
“Job opportunities?” he scoffs, eyeing me with enough scorn to force me back. “Don’t think you’re better than what you’re intended to be.”
A strange chill encircles me like a ribbon, making its way up my throat. “Which is what?”
My whip-sharp tone does nothing to ease the escalating strain between us. If there weren’t a counter separating us then, I think he would have lunged at me. “Stupidity isn’t an attractive quality on you, Contessa,” he says, dripping venom into each word. “Not if you ever stand a chance at becoming a governor’s wife.”
Curran
My phone buzzes an hour after Newart leaves. It’s a text from Tess.
I’m not going to be able to see you tonight.
I stare at the message for a beat. This time, I’m not backing down or letting her off easy. I text back, Why?
There’s a pause as she works through the numbers of the old cellphone.
I have a lot of work to do. I have three exams this week and still have some research pending on the Montenegro case.
I groan before responding. So do it now while I’m out here freezing my ass off. That way, when I’m off, we can grab a bite to eat.
It’s not a good idea, she writes back.
You thought it was a good idea this morning, I point out.
Her next response takes longer than it should, considering how short it is.