Chapter 9 09

I was trembling with nerves.

Earlier, I had almost thrown my pride away when I called Attorney Fontanilla. Now, all the courage I'd managed to gather seemed to have evaporated. I had to admit it. I was nervous. I didn't even know if what I was about to do was right... or if I was making a terrible mistake.

I let out a deep breath and glanced around, half-expecting him to arrive at any moment. He had told me over the phone that he was busy and couldn't promise he'd make it. That was why I was surprised when, an hour ago, he sent a message saying he'd come and talk to me himself.

I knew the address I gave him must've raised questions. But this was the only place I could think of... somewhere we could talk without drawing attention. I mean, who would seriously discuss a legal case in a bar? With the noise, the crowd, the music... no one would suspect a thing.

I pressed my heel against the floor and fidgeted with my fingers. I didn't know why I was this anxious. This was my idea in the first place. And if I didn't do this, there was a good chance they'd never give my money back.

"Miss Clemente."

That familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I stiffened in my seat, suddenly unable to lift my head. I swallowed hard and bit my lower lip trying to hide how shaken I was.

Why was he here?

When I finally forced myself to look up, my breath caught the moment our eyes met.

"I-I thought Attorney Fontanilla was coming?"

I wanted to slap myself for stuttering. I wasn't like this. I didn't back down just because a man intimidated me. I was just... caught off guard. I had expected to speak with his uncle and definitely not him.

Because why the heck is Dylan Fontanilla standing in front of me?

He didn't answer. He simply stared at me. I refused to look away. In the end, he was the one who broke eye contact first.

That was... intense.

To my surprise, he sat down across from me and raised a hand to signal the waiter. Instead of responding to my question, he ordered a drink. I was about to look away when he glanced back at me.

"You want one?" he asked calmly.

I frowned. Was he seriously offering me a drink? Were we even close enough for that? I shook my head and lowered my gaze to the table. His eyes followed and that's when he noticed the half-empty bottle beside my shot glass. He shrugged and repeated his order to the waiter.

When the waiter left, he leaned back in his chair, looking bored.

"So," he said, "what's the problem?"

"I don't mean to offend you," I replied carefully, "but I asked to speak with Attorney Fontanilla-"

"You mean you wanted to meet a married man alone in a bar," he cut in, glancing at the alcohol between us. "Nice try, Miss Clemente. Really."

My vision darkened for a second as I understood what he was implying. I pressed my tongue to my cheek and looked away, quickly forcing myself to calm down. It hadn't been long since he found out his girlfriend cheated on him. Maybe the feeling was still raw. Maybe that was why he was acting like this.

I took a deep breath and looked back at him.

"I have no intention of becoming a mistress," I said firmly. "I just want to talk to him about my father's case. That's all."

I caught the flash of irritation in his eyes and gave him a small, tight smile. That only seemed to annoy him more. I straightened in my seat.

The waiter returned with his drink and asked if I wanted another bottle. I shook my head. Getting drunk wasn't part of the plan. I'd only had a drink earlier to calm my nerves.

I watched him silently as he poured his drink. Three bottles sat on the table. I raised an eyebrow.

"I thought we were here to talk about my dad's case," I said. "Why does it look like you're planning to get wasted?"

"I'm off duty," he replied coldly. "I came because I didn't want my aunt thinking my uncle was cheating on her."

I rolled my eyes.

"I already told you. I'm not interested in your uncle. I just want to discuss my father's case. Not everything needs a hidden meaning."

Annoyed, I poured myself another shot and downed it in one go.

"I'm not into older, married men," I added, meeting his gaze as I drank.

He scoffed and shook his head.

"You're unbelievable. Why invite my uncle to a bar at this hour just to talk about a case?"

"Because I have to," I snapped, slamming the glass onto the table. "Just because I asked him to come here doesn't mean I want him."

"My uncle is married-"

"Did I ever say he wasn't?" I cut in sharply. "I said I wanted to talk about my dad's case. That's it. Did I ever say I was interested in him? You're the unbelievable one here. Being a mistress is pathetic and you should know your uncle better than that. He's a good man, right? Why would he cheat on his wife?"

He scoffed again and took a sip.

"Anyone would think the same if you suddenly asked them out. And of all places... here. Don't play dumb, Miss Clemente. If you think we'll just drop your father's case, you're wrong."

I laughed softly and shook my head, folding my arms across my chest.

"Fine, I get how it looks. But couldn't you at least ask why first? I was going to explain. If his wife is worried, she can come too. I don't have any bad intentions toward your uncle."

He didn't answer right away, just studied my face. I leaned back, oddly calmer now... maybe the alcohol was finally kicking in.

"Then why here?" he asked after a moment.

I shrugged casually.

"I live here."

His brows immediately pulled together. I raised an eyebrow back, waiting. He took another drink.

"I live here now," I continued. "So I figured, why not? It's convenient, and no one would suspect anything. My father and aunt don't want me testifying. If they see me meeting with your uncle somewhere obvious, they'll stop me. But here? No one would assume we're talking about a case. They'd just think we're drinking."

"Why are you here?" he interrupted suddenly.

He unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt while staring at me, and my throat tightened.

"You said you live here. Why?"

"I-I left home," I said, grabbing my glass. "Why? Is that a problem? I sleep on the third floor."

"And why did you change your mind?" he pressed. "You said before you wouldn't testify. You chose silence. Why speak now?"

I shrugged.

"I need money. My dad and aunt took everything from my bank account. I have nothing left-"

"So what," he cut in sharply, "you're a prostitute now?"

My eyes widened in shock. I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and to tell me it was a joke. But he didn't. He was dead serious.

I swallowed hard and looked away.

"Why do you even care?"

"I'm a lieutenant," he snapped. "It's my job."

Of course.

I shook my head before meeting his gaze again.

"So what if I am?" I asked boldly.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto mine, sending my heart racing. I swallowed but didn't look away.

"What-"

"Why are you asking?" I challenged him. "Planning to buy me?"

He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples, finally looking away. I smiled faintly, thinking he'd backed down.

But then he looked at me again.

My breath hitched under the weight of his stare.

"What if I say yes?" he asked quietly.

"How much for one night, Miss Clemente?"

I froze.

I waited for him to laugh. To say he was kidding.

But he didn't.

He just stared at me, eyes cold and steady, waiting for my answer.

I swallowed.

Hard.