𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟖 +

𝐅 𝐈 𝐕 𝐄

Dakota

I pushed open the door to Ms. Beaumont's office, slightly surprised to find it empty. She hadn't arrived yet. A little unexpected, but I figured she probably didn't feel the same pressure to be early as I did. Shrugging, I moved to my own desk, which sat in the corner of her office, my small workspace already piled high with files.

My shoulders slumped when I saw the new stack of files waiting for me. There were at least four new cases to review, each one more intimidating than the last. I let out a deep sigh, trying to psych myself up for the long day ahead. It was barely past eight, and I could already feel the weight of the day settling over me. But I was here to learn, and this was part of it. So, I squared my shoulders, settled into my chair, and dove into the first file.

About ten minutes later, the door swung open, and in strode Ms. Beaumont, dressed in a sharp, perfectly tailored suit, her hair cascading down her shoulders in flawless waves. She looked every bit the ruthless lawyer she was known to be, but there was something about her that also radiated elegance. Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way to her desk, and I quickly straightened up, offering her a polite, "Good morning, Ms. Beaumont."

She merely hummed in response, a small, barely perceptible acknowledgment. Not exactly a ray of sunshine in the mornings, but I was starting to get used to it. I shifted my attention back to the files in front of me, forcing myself to concentrate despite the slight chill she always seemed to bring into the room. She was intimidating, no doubt about it, and I was learning to keep my head down and just focus on my work when she was around.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the office door. Ms. Beaumont didn't even look up as she said, "Come in." her tone brisk and clipped.

I looked up as the door opened, and in walked a tall man who exuded an air of intimidation. He had jet-black hair, neatly combed, a dark beard, and piercing brown eyes that seemed to assess everything in the room with a single sweep. There was something about his presence that instantly set me on edge, a silent but potent warning that this was a man who wasn't to be trifled with.

He strode toward Ms. Beaumont's desk with purpose and, to my surprise, slammed a thick file down in front of her. My eyes widened at the audacity, my heart skipping a beat. People didn't usually treat Ms. Beaumont that way, at least, not in the short time I'd been here.

"I'm not taking the Smith case." he said, his voice a deep, low growl. "You'll need to find someone else."

Ms. Beaumont's head tilted up, her gaze finally lifting from her own work to look at him, and a smirk curved at the edge of her lips, a dangerous, devilish expression that would probably send shivers down most people's spines. She didn't say anything right away, just fixed him with that lazy, calculating stare that I was coming to recognize as her signature look when she was about to put someone in their place.

"Well." she said finally, her voice smooth and cold, "Mr. Costa, you were assigned the Smith case because I thought you could handle it. But if you're telling me otherwise..." She let the words hang, a slight condescension slipping into her tone that was sharp enough to draw blood.

His jaw tightened, and I could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. He didn't seem used to people speaking to him this way, especially not with such calm, collected disdain. I watched, a little awestruck at her ability to stand her ground with such unwavering confidence. It was as if she barely registered his aggression as a threat, he was merely an inconvenience to her.

"Find someone else." he repeated, though his voice had lost some of its edge. His gaze shifted then, and I didn't miss the way his eyes trailed down, settling inappropriately on Ms. Beaumont's chest. Disgust curled in my stomach as he openly checked her out, his gaze lingering in a way that was both invasive and disrespectful.

Ms. Beaumont, however, didn't flinch. She merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to realize his place. It was like she was giving him the chance to embarrass himself fully, and I had to admit, there was something perversely satisfying about watching him dig his own grave under her cold, unyielding stare.

Realizing he was getting nowhere, Mr. Costa huffed in irritation, his face twisted in frustration. He grabbed the file he'd thrown down and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

I blinked, the silence settling back over the room, the tension lingering even after he'd left. Shaking my head slightly, I let out a small breath, still trying to process what I'd just witnessed.

"That man is such an ass—" I muttered before I could stop myself, the words slipping out as I watched him disappear down the hall.

A soft hum sounded behind me, and I froze, realizing that Ms. Beaumont had turned her attention to me. When I glanced up, she was watching me with that piercing, unreadable gaze, her expression so intense it made my skin prickle. Her lips curved into the faintest of smirks, and I felt my cheeks heat up under the weight of her scrutiny.

"Is there a problem, Miss D'Angelo?" she asked, her tone deceptively light, though her gaze remained sharp and unyielding.

I swallowed, feeling my blush deepen. "N-No, ma'am... I just..." I fumbled for words, glancing at the door where Mr. Costa had exited. "I just think he's... an ass." I admitted, slightly embarrassed but still standing by my opinion.

She let out a soft chuckle, the sound so rare and unexpected it caught me off guard. It was quiet, barely more than a hum, but there was an undeniable amusement in her eyes as she looked at me.

"That he is, unfortunately." she agreed, her voice carrying a note of resignation as if this wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with his... less-than-professional behavior.

A strange feeling settled over me, a mix of pride and nervousness at her agreement. I managed a small smile, though it felt a little forced under her watchful gaze, and turned back to my work, hoping the heat in my cheeks would fade soon.

I couldn't help but glance over at her every so often, stealing quick glances to see her returning to her usual focus, that cold, almost inhuman concentration she maintained as she scanned through her documents. But for a brief moment, I thought I'd seen something else, a glimpse of her humor, a flicker of something behind the icy façade.

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~ R