Cerise Harvey is a twenty-three year old hopeless romantic and over achiever, following closely in the shadows of her father, Michael Harvey- top criminal defense attorney of New York, legacy. With big shoes to fill, she's always gone above and beyo...
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Cerise quickly went over her neutral courtroom attire with a mini lint roller collecting remnants of her precious tea cup Yorkie, GiGi, before running out of the door. She'd taken two things from stepping into the courtroom for the very first time by herself— don't be late and don't wear purple.
She'd set three alarms starting at six in the morning for every five minutes to make sure she was up early enough. Being an attorney wasn't just about having a good defense, but also about your connections as well. Law is like a game of chess and the judge can be a powerful piece on your board— Cerise was set on making this impression better than the last.
Cerise held her arms out at her sides as an officer wanded her down at the front door security checkpoint of the court house— journalists and news reporters already beginning to gather on the concrete steps. She smiled politely at the officers, grabbing the Himalayan crocodile Birkin she'd stolen from her mothers closet out of the metal detector conveyor belt bucket and heading to her court room.
The courtroom was empty besides a few lower level judicial personnel, like the stenographer tuning her typewriter. Cerise arrived with ten minutes to spare, utilizing that time to study her case notes and go over what she wanted to address during the hearing.
Pulling her journal and some files from the rare two hundred-thousand dollar bag, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she read over the pink highlighted points in her notes. Feeling a hand grace her lower back, she instantly tensed up as she quickly looked over her shoulder— it was Brandon.
He walked behind her, lifting his crimson red tie as he took his seat furthest from the isle on Cerise's right. The scent of his cologne lingered long after he passed— memories of just days before waking up in his arms began to flood her mind. She'd secretly kept one of his white tee shirts she'd accidentally thrown into her suitcase when they left instead of giving it back because it smelled like him.
Her heart began to beat fervently, like it could beat out of her chest at any minute. Cerise was typically a great public speaker— excelling in her speech and debate classes and her mock trials in highschool and college, but she was currently catching a bad case of stage fright. It wasn't because she was nervous for court and the many different eyes that will be on her regardless, just for being Michael Harvey's daughter— but because Brandon was watching.
They hadn't spoken in a day— since they landed back in the private hanger of JFK International Airport yesterday morning. Cerise being the woman she is, didn't try to text or call Brandon all days in hopes he'd contact her first; but Brandon being the nonchalant man he is just figured she was busy and didn't think much of it.
She'd had a dreamy time in the middle of the ocean with Brandon, so much so that she couldn't stop thinking of the trip and replaying the picture perfect moments they shared. So much so that she was secretly excited to see him today— so much so that she was starting to think that maybe this wasn't so bad.
