𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝟏𝟓

The office was still, the kind of silence that invited deep thought, but never distraction. My office was a reflection of precision and control—a space that spoke volumes. The glass doors shimmered in the morning light, my name Davis Maclean, Esq. embossed in sharp gold lettering. Inside, everything was sharp and polished: white marble floors, a dark mahogany desk that radiated authority, and sleek leather chairs. 

The walls were adorned with legal certificates and minimal art—every piece was chosen with care. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, a constant reminder of my status and the game I played.

I was reviewing the latest brief, though my mind was partially elsewhere, when Saxe walked in, tapping away on his iPad like usual.

"Sadira Kingston just called," he said, his eyes not leaving the screen, as though this was just another task in his never-ending list of things to manage.

I looked up, already intrigued. A slow smile spread across my face. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Saxe continued, barely missing a beat. "She was in disbelief about the 50k fee." He paused, a chuckle escaping his lips as he mimicked her words. "'You better do your damn job,' she said."

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my hands together. That kind of fire, that frustration—it always came out when people didn't expect the price to match the service. "I'll do my job," I said, my voice smooth, and controlled. 

I flipped through a random book on my desk, the thud of it closing a punctuation mark to the moment. There was always a power in commanding that kind of fee, and more so, delivering. Sadira would understand soon enough.

Saxe continued tapping on his iPad, eyes flicking up for just a moment. "So, when's she coming in?"

He glanced at the screen. "Tomorrow, most likely."

I nodded, satisfaction building. "Good." I pulled up her file on my laptop. Her case was more than just a simple drug deal gone wrong. There were layers to this, connections that went beyond the surface. Tariq St. Patrick was in the mix—a name that had been floating around in legal whispers—and a botched exchange outside her bakery had dragged Sadira into the fold.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the desk as I scanned the file. This wasn't just about defending her bakery. There was something more at play. A woman like Sadira Kingston, running a cozy bakery, didn't belong in the same sentence as a drug deal gone wrong. But here she was, tangled in it.

I glanced around the office, taking in the pristine luxury that surrounded me. The glass walls reflected the warm glow from the overhead lights. On the sleek marble-topped side table sat a crystal decanter of whiskey, untouched but always there, a reminder of the power that came with precision and control.

Saxe stood near the door, waiting for further instructions. "Prepare everything for tomorrow," I said, waving him off with a flick of my hand, already diving deeper into the case file. The soft click of the glass doors closing behind him left me alone with my thoughts.

As I flipped through the details, I thought about Sadira's voice on the phone. That disbelief, the irritation in her tone—but underneath it, I heard something else. She wasn't just annoyed about the fee; she was nervous. That underlying vulnerability made this more interesting. It gave me an edge.

I smiled again, this time to myself. Tomorrow, Sadira Kingston would step through those glass doors, and she'd understand exactly what I could offer her. But it wasn't just about the case anymore. She intrigued me, and not just because she was a client. There was something more.

I set the file aside, pulling up the next document. The case was tied to Tariq and that complicated things. The game was never straightforward with him involved. But this was my playing field, and I knew how to maneuver the pieces.

Tomorrow would reveal more than she expected. And maybe even more than I anticipated.