Page 115 of Play Dirty

My eyes round. “Madeline…” Holy crap. Everyone in Hollywood has heard of her. “Wh-what are you doing here?” I finally ask in confusion.

“When I found out about what was going on, I thought maybe I could help. Sit with Lorna and observe…if you don’t mind?” The eyes behind her glasses are razor sharp and focused on me.

“I…” I frown, struggling to understand what’s going on.

“No charge,” she says softly. “Bettina called me. You did a wonderful thing for Marty—and once I read the details of the case against Damien, I knew I wanted to help if possible. Men like him do not get a pass. I don’t care how good their lawyers are.”

Bettina.

Madame Bertrand.

“I appreciate it,” I whisper, suddenly choked up. “Thank you.”

“All right, let’s do this.”

“Stevie!” I know Chey’s voice anywhere and she sweeps me up in a tight hug. “I’m here,” she whispers. “We’re all here and we’ve got your back. No matter what happens.”

“Thank you.” I’m on the verge of tears, nauseated and anxious, but having this kind of support means a lot.

Hell, it means everything.

“You doin’ okay, baby girl?” The concern in Cassius’s voice makes me smile.

“Hey. Thank you for coming.”

“Marcie had to work but she wants you to know she’ll be here tomorrow.”

“You guys don’t have to be here every day.”

“Every. Day.” He says it firmly. “Until that motherfucker is in prison.”

“Th-thank you.” I hate being so emotional but can’t seem to help it. It’s huge that the people I care about most are all here.

Well, all but one of them.

But that’s my own fault.

“Shall we go inside?” Lorna asks.

We move into the courtroom en masse, and seat ourselves in the gallery. My group of friends takes up the two rows behind us, and Saylor leans over to whisper, “Harper says she would be here if she hadn’t just given birth to a baby boy.”

“Oh!” I turn, giving her the first genuine smile of the day. Maybe even of the week. “I’ll have to call her.”

But first, I have to get through today.

Maybe the next couple of weeks. There’s no way to know how long the trial will last. Lorna has been in constant contact with the prosecutor, who says Damien’s lawyer has filed all kinds of motions and the witness list is extensive. What he doesn’t know, though, is that we’re prepared. And for some reason, even though she’s technically not my attorney, having Madeline here gives me hope that things might go quicker than expected.

I’m not on trial—I didn’t do anything wrong—but I know it’s going to be tough to relive the nightmare with Damien sitting just a few feet away. And I’m prepared for them to try to twist the narrative, to make me look like the bad guy.

I tense the moment the doors open.

It’s the first time I’ve seen Damien since that morning eleven months ago.

He looks…older. More mature in some ways. More tired in others.

He’s wearing an expensive suit and has grown a short beard, but he’s still Damien. The same arrogant, spiteful ass he always was. I just didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

When his eyes find mine my skin crawls with disgust. And the hatred I see in his is impossible to miss.

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