When vengeance strikes in the form of a bullet out for the princess's blood, Princess Aleia VonAuclair must flee the heart of her country in order to protect the people she loves and take back the pieces of her soul she'd lost to the girl she once l...
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"Mr. Harrison. Ms. Pesche is here to see you."
The petite assistant stood waiting with her head inclined towards the door and when a gruff Let her in sounded, she offered me a polite smile and gestured with a hand.
"Thank you," I said and walked past her and into the luxurious office occupied by the judge handling Arina's divorce settlement case.
A stubby man with a wisping beard sat behind an oak desk, in a chair two sizes too small for him by the looks of his protruding abdomen squished flat into the wooden edge. He glanced up at the sound of my footsteps and I watched his eyes cloud over with distaste. Condescension. Like he expected an older woman in my steed.
"Ms. Pesche. To what do I owe the pleasure? When the administrative office alerted me of your coming, they did not quite mention the reason."
I stopped a step away from the armchairs in front of his desk and waited as a habit. When he didn't attempt to offer a formal greeting or even stand up for a proper handshake, the wired part of my brain that screamed for moral conduct recoiled in contempt.
It was a sign of disrespect, and I didn't like it at all. The palace would frown upon this man.
Respect was a default precedent. It wasn't something to be earned, it was something to be granted on sight. Until someone proved that they're not worthy of such respect, only then was respect not given.
Apparently, this man believed it worked the other way around.
"Well, if you must know, I'm here for a case you're working. Mr. Romano said you'd be willing to help."
His eyes bulged out of his head, and he instantly shot to his feet. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Bryan, like with Anthony, stood a step behind me, his authority pungent even in the spacious office. After I'd sent him the initial text to find Donald, it hadn't even taken him an hour to locate the sanctimonious judge. A file, not long after, appeared in my inbox.
And in all its vindictive, incriminating glory, was the kind of information that could ruin a man's career in law.
"Mr. Romano sent you? Well, you should've said so. Come. Sit. We have lots to discuss I assume."
I slid into the seat and crossed my ankles together. Donald retrieved a bottle of liquor and once again, I had to contain an eye roll. Of course, now, after I'd slipped Romano's name did he pamper me with the utmost treatment.
Romano was the notorious King of the Court, and owner of the most ruthless law firm in the country. I'd met him once during a public affair in DC and despite his merciless reputation, he was actually one of the most sophisticated and humbled men I'd ever met in all my years of joining my parents' diplomatic trips.
And so, when I'd rang him up through a burner number and requested a meeting for my 'business associate' working a case under Donald Harrison, he didn't think twice to call the administration of his firm to schedule Ms. Pesche in for Donald.
