Superficial (DE)

Three.

Cerise sat up in her seat anxiously, looking between the two front seats of the cab at all the traffic in front of them. "I will pay you five hundred dollars to get through this," She offered, desperation laced in her voice.

"I can't lady— where I'm supposed to go?" The taxi driver asked irritatedly, looking at her through the rear view mirror.

Anxiety had her stomach balled up in it's fist as she looked down at the gold Rolex on her left wrist checking the time. Court started in five minutes, and with this traffic she was still a good ten minutes away.

Frantically digging through her Birkin, she dug out two loose hundred dollar bills and tossed them into the front seat, jumping out of the car into the congested, dead stop traffic. Cerise clutched her bag to her chest as she ran as fast as her five inch Louboutins would allow— more like an unbalanced, wobbly jog, trekking between cars and people stuck in traffic on their bicycles.

She slowed down as she reached the bazillion steps leading up to the court house— winded. News reporters and journalists flocked the steps like a hungry crowd of pigeons waiting for their next meal to come through the court house doors.

Cerise smoothed out her short brown hair, straightening her lilac pantsuit making sure she looked presentable as she rushed up the stairs. Her heart beat aggressively in her chest— it felt as though it were about to jump out of her body and run away.

After going through the security checkpoint, she quickly made her way down the long looming halls to her designated courtroom. Her heels made clicking sounds against the laminate floor as she speed walked, stopping in front of the door and taking a deep breath before going in.

"Ms. Harvey you're late," The judge said before Cerise could even get both feet through the door.

Michael furrowed his brows befuddled, looking up quickly from where he sat in the back of the courtroom waiting for his clients case to be called next seeing his one and only daughter strut right into the court room with a light purple suit on— he couldn't believe his eyes.

Unbeknownst to Cerise, she didn't know her father had court in the same room today.

"I'm so sorry your honor— there was traffic," Cerise said with a faint yet charming smile, taking her spot next to Brandon who didn't look so thrilled— he didn't even bother to look at her. "Hi," She whispered to him.

He was dressed in a dapper, custom tailored all black suit with a crimson red tie for a pop of color that matched the soles of his dress shoes with a plain silver Audemars Piguet fastened to his left wrist and complimenting the shiny silver cufflinks in his crisp cuffs. Per last time, his body chemistry pairing well with the Dior Sauvage cologne he'd sprayed on all his pulse points leaving an alluring scent trail behind him— Cerise smelled him when she walked through the door.

"We almost adjourned court for your client Ms. Harvey— please don't let it happen again," The judge said sternly.

"Yes ma'am,"

Michael sat in the back of the court room, grinding her pearly white veneers angrily. If he were a character in a cartoon, steam would be spouting from his ears at that moment— he was infuriated. Michael couldn't believe his obedient baby girl had gone behind his back and done the one thing he'd told her not to. Not only did she take the case, but she showed up seven minutes late walking in like it was some type of fashion show.

Their last name rang a lot of bells throughout New York— big, loud bells. Any mistake she made would automatically default back onto him as her father and he refused to allow her to tarnish the reputation he'd worked so hard to build.