What We Left in the Dark

Eight

The day passed in a blur, a steady stream of tasks and meetings helping to dull the edge of unease that had gripped me since my conversation with Matt. By the afternoon, the knot in my stomach had loosened, and stepping away from the Ricci case started to feel more like the right move than an act of retreat.

Matt had sent over the details of the new lead attorney, Jason Williams, a seasoned colleague whose reputation for handling complex cases was well known. I reached out to Jason immediately, arranging a meeting to go over the details and ensure a smooth transition. 

But as the day wound down, that sense of closure started to fray. I hesitated at my desk, my fingers hovering over my phone as I debated whether to reach out to Luca directly. I knew I should let the transition happen through official channels, but something gnawed at me, a feeling that I owed him an explanation, even if only a brief one.

Before I could second-guess myself, I composed a short message:

"Luca, I wanted to let you know that another attorney will be taking over your case. Due to my current workload, I believe it's in your best interest to have someone who can fully dedicate their attention to it. Jason Williams will be handling everything moving forward, and I'll ensure he has all the necessary information. Thank you for your understanding. – Catalina."

I hit send, the message leaving my phone with a finality that should have brought relief. Instead, it left me feeling unsettled, as though something had been left unresolved.

I packed up my things, preparing to leave for the evening, when my phone buzzed with a response. The familiar tingle of anticipation—something I had been trying to suppress all day—flickered to life as I read Luca's reply.

"Catalina, Matt already informed me of the change earlier this afternoon. I was shocked, to say the least. I didn't expect this from you."

My heart skipped a beat, the words carrying a weight that pressed down on my chest. There was no anger in his message, no overt accusation, but the undercurrent of disappointment was unmistakable. I could almost hear his voice in the text, low and measured, each word chosen with care.

Before I could respond, another message came through:

"I think we need to talk, person to person, not attorney to client. There's more to this than just capacity issues, isn't there?"

My pulse quickened, a mix of dread and something else—something more dangerous—coursing through me. I could feel the walls closing in, the professional distance I had worked so hard to maintain crumbling under the weight of his words.

"Luca, I don't think that's a good idea," I typed back quickly, my fingers trembling slightly. I was trying to stay firm, to keep the boundaries clear, but the situation was slipping out of my control.

His reply was instant, as though he had been waiting for my response:

"It's too late for that. I'm downstairs."

The breath caught in my throat as I read the words, my heart hammering in my chest. I stood frozen for a moment, the implications of his message sinking in. He was here, in my building, waiting for me.

The rational part of my mind screamed at me to leave, to walk out the back exit and avoid whatever confrontation Luca had planned. But another part of me—the part that had been drawn to him from the start, the part that had ignored the warning signs—compelled me to stay.

I took a deep breath, my decision already made, and headed toward the elevator. The closer I got, the more my senses seemed to sharpen. I could feel the pull of the unknown, the dangerous allure of stepping into something I couldn't fully control.

As the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, my eyes scanned the space, searching for Luca. It didn't take long to spot him—he was standing near the entrance, his tall frame leaning casually against the wall, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse race.

There was something different about him tonight, something darker, more mysterious. The smooth, polished exterior he had shown me before seemed to have slipped away, revealing a side of him I had only glimpsed in fleeting moments. A side that both frightened and intrigued me.

"Catalina," he greeted me, his voice low and even, but there was an edge to it that set my nerves on edge. "I didn't think you'd come down."

"I wasn't sure I should," I admitted, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. "Luca, what are you doing here?"

He straightened, taking a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I needed to see you. This... transition," he said, his tone carrying a hint of something I couldn't quite place, "it doesn't sit right with me. There's more to it, isn't there?"

I hesitated, my mind racing as I searched for the right words. "Luca, this isn't about you. I'm at capacity, and I want to make sure your case gets the attention it deserves. Jason Williams is more than capable of handling it."

He took another step closer, the space between us shrinking. "But that's not the whole truth, is it?" His voice was soft, almost coaxing, but there was a darkness in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. "You can't tell me you're just stepping back because of workload. There's something else, something you're not saying."

The intensity of his gaze, the closeness of his presence, was overwhelming. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the power he held, not just in his words, but in the silent command he seemed to wield effortlessly.

"Luca..." I began, but the words caught in my throat. I couldn't lie to him, not convincingly, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. "But I think we both know that this isn't just about the case."

My breath hitched as his hand brushed against mine, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through me. There was something undeniably arousing about the way he was looking at me, the way he seemed to see through my defenses, stripping them away layer by layer.

"This... isn't professional," I managed to say, though my resolve was weakening with every passing second.

"No," Luca agreed, his voice a hushed whisper as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear. "It's not."

My heart pounded in my chest, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. I knew I should walk away, put an end to whatever this was before it spiraled out of control. But as I stood there, caught in the web of Luca's dark, magnetic presence, I found myself unable to move, unable to do anything but wait for what came next.

"Let's talk," he said softly, his breath warm against my skin. "But not here. Somewhere... quieter."

I knew I was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something I might not be able to come back from. But the pull was too strong, the temptation too great.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible, as I made the decision that would change everything.

"Good," Luca replied, a slow, enigmatic smile curling on his lips. "Let's go."