𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞
I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner.
Francesca "Frank" Monroe. One of the most successful criminal defense attorneys in the history of Chicago. The woman everyone...
"...And you, you better run because I'm going to destroy you for what you've taken from me."
- Samantha Young
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With an aggravated sigh, I grabbed my car keys from their hook by the front door, storming out of the house as I muttered a stream of silent curses with each step I took. As if my day wasn't going poorly enough, the last image I wanted burned into my memory was the sight of them, wrapped up in each other's arms, fucking right before my eyes.
Whipping into the luxury apartment complex's parking lot, I shifted into park before getting out and striding towards the entrance. I made my way towards the elevator that would lead me to Hector's penthouse.
"Frank, here for Hector," I told the security, not in the mood to entertain any further questions.
Inside, I was a simmering pot of impatience threatening to bubble over any second.
"Right this way, ma'am," a tall, striking man with piercing hazel eyes offered himself as my guide.
He led me towards the apartment and with every click-clack of my heels against the marble floor, I hoped with every ounce of my fucking being that she wasn't there. It was like my thoughts had gone rogue, playing back to me a replay of her in vivid detail-the cheap looking, fiery fake redhead that she was.
Not that I was nursing some wounded form of jealousy or any other silly notion like that-of course not. It's just that I knew myself and my temper, particularly when provoked, and it was nothing short of volatile. The prospect of my reaction in her presence even scared me, a frightening shadow looming over me that served as a reminder of my dangerous potential.
I stepped inside the apartment, calling out for Hector, only to be answered by her annoying presence. Dressed in nothing but Hector's dress shirt, her wild, unbrushed hair and yesterday's makeup smeared on her face making her look sluttier than ever.
The scene felt like a cutout from a tired old Hollywood movie.
"Hi! Nice meeting you again! I'm Adrianna," she greeted me cheerily, extending her hand out for a polite handshake, seemingly oblivious to the obvious discomfort emanating from me.
Her naïveté would have been charming, if it weren't for the fact that I knew exactly what-or rather who-her hand had been tangled around not too fucking long ago.
I glanced at her offered hand in disgust, my lip curling up involuntarily in contempt.
"I'm not feeling very nice today, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting you either," I retorted tersely. I couldn't keep the venomous sting from my tone. "Where's Hector?"
The colour on her face drained at my response, and she swiftly withdrew her hand. Not long after, Hector sauntered into the room, completely unruffled, wearing nothing but a skimpy towel around his waist. "Right here," he announced.
