Guilty | ✓

I | Guilty

CHAPTER ONE | MURDERS

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"I DIDN'T DO IT."

Detective Smith narrowed his eyes on Genevieve.

She sat nonchalantly, the metal handcuffs clinking on the table when she moved her hands, Genevieve's face contorted in confusion, acting innocent.

Smith scoffed, "Admit it already! You killed Davis Miller!"

"Me? A murderer? You're funny Smith," Genevieve laughed, she at most had no reason to kill the man.

"Look you little shit. Could you confess already! We all know you're guilty! I have a family, the woman I love is at home waiting for me to walk through the front door, so hurry up would ya'," Smith yelled, pressing his hands on the table, leaning forward. The tone in his New York accent, clear that he was indeed frustrated.

Genevieve's eyes trailed around him, inspecting him for a few seconds.

Finished, she smirked and looked him dead in the eye, "Are you sure?"

When he didn't respond, Genevieve smiled, "You're lying," she explained, "We've been here for an hour and a half making it one in the evening. Given the salary of a police detective in New York is around thirty-seven thousand per year, your wife would indeed be working at a high paying company for you to be living here in Manhattan. Resulting in long hours of work."

When his mouth parted, appalled, she continued grinning, "So it would prove that your wife is at work and not home, especially on a Tuesday in August. But I do have a question. Do you really love your wife? Since your marriage ring is missing, but that tan line is still visible, resulting in taking it off."

"Adding the red lipstick smudged on the corner of your lips, and for it not to be dried yet, proves you were, in fact, in a recent make out session. It couldn't be your wife since she's at work, and the hickey on your neck is still glossy making it more obvious of your infidelity," Genevieve said, chuckling darkly.

After watching his surprised expression, she proceeded. "Also, you seem to have a hangover from last night. The abnormal dark bags under your eyes make it obvious you were drinking a strong liquor or vodka. Plus, you're clutching your forehead given your high headache. I even suspect that you were in fact inhaling dangerous illegal drugs from the white crumbs on your disheveled mustache. I also know that you should be fired, given for using illegal contaminated substances."

"Lastly, your breath is still infected with the smell of tequila. So I recommend you to take a mint, you little shit," Genevieve sassed, raising her left eyebrow and lifting her Prada clad feet on the table, smirking nonchalantly.

Looking around, she noticed that not only was Detective Smith left horrifyingly shocked, but so were the other officers in the interrogation room. With a sigh, Genevieve narrowed her eyes toward each and everyone that stood in this, now, awfully small room.

Being claustrophobic wasn't much help.

Dragging her sight around the space, Genevieve noticed an interesting man standing in the corner, his muscular arms crossed.

Saying that he was handsome would be an understatement, he was most definitely the most gorgeous man that she has ever seen.