𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝟏𝟗

The courtroom was thick with tension. The air felt heavy, almost stifling, as the weight of everyone's eyes bore down on me. I sat between Davis and Saxe, their presence on either side making me feel trapped, even though I knew they were here to defend me.

Davis sat cool and collected, but his knee kept brushing against mine, sending sharp jolts of awareness through me. I stiffened every time it happened, my fingers absently rubbing against the smooth fabric of my pants, trying to ground myself in the moment. Why was I so nervous? I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but being here, under the gaze of so many people, made me feel like I was on trial myself. My heart hammered in my chest.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, avoiding the stares from the jury. I hated the way they looked at me—like I was some puzzle they were trying to figure out. The slight creaks of their chairs, the soft murmurs of conversation, it all added to the pressure mounting in the room. I swallowed hard, running my tongue across my lips, which were coated in nothing but cocoa butter.

"Relax," Davis whispered, his voice low and smooth in my ear. The warmth of his breath against my skin made my stomach flip, but I refused to let it show. I didn't look at him, just nodded slightly, trying to calm the anxiety bubbling inside me. The other lawyer was already standing, pacing back and forth as he droned on about the case.

And then, my name was called.

The words hung in the air, and I felt like the whole courtroom leaned in just a little. Saxe and Davis both stood up at the same time, their movements precise and professional. I followed, my knees a little shaky, but I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath.

I wouldn't let anyone see how uncomfortable I was. I raised my hand as the oath was administered, but the moment my palm lifted into the air, the realization hit me—how many other people had stood in this exact spot, their hands touching the same surface? A shiver ran down my spine, the thought of germs and grime making me queasy.

As if sensing my discomfort, Davis quietly reached into his briefcase and placed a small bottle of hand sanitizer beside me. I didn't hesitate. Grabbing the bottle, I quickly spritzed some into my hands, the cool gel soothing my nerves for a moment.

I smiled, relieved, rubbing my hands together until they were clean. The judge raised an eyebrow, his tone dry.

"Germaphobe, Ms. Kingston?"

I looked up, nodding quickly before remembering I had to give a verbal response. "Yes," I said softly, my voice echoing a little too loud in the silence. A few members of the jury shifted in their seats, and I could feel their eyes on me. My palms were sweaty again.

The lawyer cleared his throat and began asking his questions. "Do you know Tariq St. Patrick?"

I glanced over at Tariq, sitting quietly at his table, his posture stiff. His eyes met mine, and there was something there—uncertainty, maybe even fear—but I stayed calm.

"No, I don't have any relations with Tariq," I answered clearly. My voice didn't shake, and I could feel Davis watching me from the corner of his eye. He nodded slightly, approving.

The lawyer continued, "Do you have cameras inside and outside your bakery?"

"Yes," I replied, keeping my tone steady. "There are cameras both inside and outside the shop."

Davis, always one step ahead, pulled out the footage we'd reviewed earlier. The grainy video played on the screen, showing the outside of my bakery. There was no sign of Tariq, just a shadowy figure that couldn't be clearly identified.

The person in the footage was much taller than Tariq, a crucial detail that the jury seemed to latch onto.

The room fell silent as the footage ended. The jurors exchanged glances, some nodding subtly. A wave of relief washed over me. We had them. Tariq didn't do it, and now, they knew it too.

As the final moments of the trial wrapped up, the judge gave his ruling—Davis had won. Tariq was cleared of all charges. I could feel the tension in the room evaporate, replaced by the collective exhale of relief. Tariq's eyes flickered with gratitude, and I could see him nodding slightly as the reality of his innocence settled over him. Brayden, sitting beside Tariq, looked just as relieved.

His usual smugness was absent, replaced by a quiet appreciation as he glanced over at me, offering a small nod.

I didn't stick around for the congratulations or handshakes. I was too drained, too ready to leave this courtroom behind.

Walking outside, the warm afternoon air hit me, and I breathed it in deeply, letting it clear my head. The sound of the city—car engines, people talking, the distant wail of a siren—was like music to my ears after the stifling quiet of the courtroom. I made my way to my white Range Rover, eager to leave this day behind.

But, of course, Davis wasn't far behind.

"You handled that well, Ms. Kingston," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. He was standing close, too close, leaning against my car like he had all the time in the world. His dark sunglasses reflected the late afternoon sun, and I could feel the heat of his gaze, even if I couldn't see his eyes.

"Yup, thanks," I replied, not bothering to hide the weariness in my voice as I buckled my seatbelt. I was tired, mentally and physically. All I wanted was to go home and forget about this entire day.

But Davis wasn't done. He leaned in a little closer, his knee brushing mine again, that familiar jolt of awareness hitting me. I tried not to react, but I could feel the tension rise between us, thick and unspoken.

"It's over, Davis. What do you possibly want from me now?" I asked, turning to look at him with a raised brow, hoping he'd get the hint and leave me alone.

He chuckled, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. "I love that bratty attitude of yours, Ms. Kingston. But nothing, really. Have a nice day."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I started the engine. He stepped back, finally letting me go, but I couldn't help but notice the way he watched me, as if he knew this wasn't the last time our paths would cross.

Pulling away, I left him standing there, the city moving around me, but Davis still on my mind. Something told me that this wasn't over. Not with him. Not yet.