Reasonable Doubt 3

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Whitney Gracia Williams

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Cover designed by Najla Qambers of Najla Qambers Designs
http://najlaqamberdesigns.com/

Formatting by Erik Gevers

Note from the author
for Nook users.

Dear Nook readers,

It seems that some readers who bought “Reasonable Doubt, Volume Two” from Barnes & Noble have been missing a chapter called “Denial (n):” from their Nook reader.

While I have no idea how this could have happened I apologize for this omission. Let me give you readers that missing chapter here.

Whitney G.

A statement in the defendant’s answer to a complaint in a lawsuit that an allegation (claim of fact) is not true.

A few days later…

Andrew

I was officially out of my damn mind.

I was in my bathtub, and Aubrey was sitting on top of me—panting as she came down from another orgasm.

She was spending the night at my condo for the third time this week, and it was pointless to even pretend like I minded.

I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but she’d definitely gotten to me. She was infiltrating my every thought, and no matter what I did to try and come back to my senses—to remind myself that this could only be temporary, she slipped deeper into my life.

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not allowed to think?”

“Not when a naked woman is in your lap.”

“I was giving her a chance to relax.” I slid my hands underneath her thighs. “What unnecessary bullshit do you want to talk about today?”

“It’s not
unnecessary
,” she said. “It’s about your family.”

“What about my family?”

“Are they still in New York?”

I prevented myself from clenching my jaw. “I don’t know.”

“You
don’t know
?” She raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean you don’t know? Are you estranged from them?”

“No…” I sighed. “I just don’t have any parents.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then why do I remember you telling me a story about your mom the first month that we met?”

“What
story
?”

“The story about Central Park and ice cream.” She looked into my eyes, as if she were expecting me to say something. “You said she took you to some children’s fair, I think? It was something that happened every Saturday. But the one you remembered most happened when it was raining and she still took you, and you stood in line for an hour just to get a scoop of vanilla.”

I blinked.

“Is that story not right? Am I mixing it up with something else?”

“No,” I said. “That’s right…But I haven’t seen her since.”

“Oh…” She looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I trailed a finger across her lips. “I turned out just fine.”

“Can I ask you a few more things?”

“You have a daily question quota starting today.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do all the “E” and “H” pictures in your hallway stand for?”

I felt a sudden ache in my chest. “
Nothing
.”

“If you hate New York so much and you don’t like talking about your past or
what you lost
six years ago, why do you have so many mementos hanging on your walls?”

“Aubrey…”

“Okay, forget that question. And the Latin quote across your heart? What does it mean?”

“Lie about one thing, lie about it all.” I kissed her lips before she could ask me anything else. I was starting to wonder why she hadn’t wanted to be a damn journalist instead of a ballerina.

“It’s your turn,” she said softly. “You can ask
me
questions now.”

“I’d rather fuck you again.” I lifted her with me as I stood up and helped her out of the bath tub.

We both dried off and went into my bedroom. Just as I was pulling her against me, my doorbell rang.

I sighed. “Dinner’s early.” I slipped into a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt and headed to the door with my credit card.

The second I opened it, I was confronted with the sight of the last person on earth I wanted to see.
Ava
.

“Don’t you dare fucking slam it on me this time,” she hissed. “We need to talk.”

“We don’t need to talk about shit.” I stepped outside and shut the door behind me. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not wanted here?’

“As many times as it’ll take you to actually believe it, which you don’t.” She scoffed. “Ask me why I came to Durham to see you,
Mr. Hamilton
. Appease me and I’ll finally go the hell away.”

“You’re going the hell away regardless,” I said flatly. “I really don’t give a fuck why you came here.”

“Not even if it’s to sign the divorce papers?”

“You could’ve sent that shit in the mail.” I gritted my teeth. “And since I’m sure you’re running out of loopholes for contesting it, I’m willing to wait until all your options run out. I’m sure your lawyers will drop you as soon as they find out what
type
of client you are.”

“All I’m asking for is ten thousand a month.”

“Go ask the man who was fucking you in our bedroom while I was at work.” I glared at her, livid. “Or better yet, ask the judge you only “fucked for a favor,” or hey, if you’re up to it, fuck my former best friend. Sleeping with him always seemed to make you feel better, right?”

“You weren’t
Mr. Perfect
either.”

“I never fucking
cheated
on you, and I never
lied
to you.”

Silence.

“Five thousand a month,” she said.

“Go fuck yourself, Ava.”

“You know I
never
give up,” she said, her eyes widened as I stepped back inside my apartment. “I
always
get what I want.”

“
So do I
.” I slammed the door in her face, feeling my heart palpitating, feeling the onset of ugly memories all over again.

Rain. New York. Heartbreak.

Complete and utter heartbreak.

Seeing Ava in person again—hearing her manipulative voice and feeling those familiar pangs in my chest, immediately made me realize that I couldn’t make the same mistake again.

Aubrey was already asking questions, trying to dig her way into my life as much as she could—thinking that if she stayed around long enough that we would work out together. But I knew that would never happen, not after seeing Ava and knowing just how far she would go to ruin me all over again.

I was officially done with this monogamous game we’d been playing for the past couple weeks. It was quite fun—
different
, but since Aubrey could never be mine and I could never be hers, it was quite fucking pointless, too.

I headed back into my bedroom and saw Aubrey smiling as she settled into the bed.

“Where’s the dinner?” she asked tilting her head to the side. “Did you leave it at the door?”

“
No
.” I shook my head and started packing up her things, stuffing them all into her purse.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You can’t stay the night.”

“Okay…” She stood up. “Did something just happen? Do you want to talk about—”

“I don’t want to talk about anything else with you.” I hissed. “I just want to take you the hell home.”

“What?” She looked confused. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you—”

“Make sure you get all of your shit out of my bathroom. You won’t be coming back here again.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need to start fucking someone else.” I picked up her headband. “I think I’ve spent more than enough time with you, don’t you think?”

“
Andrew
…” Her face fell. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“The same place it was always coming from. You lied to me once, you’ll lie again.”

“I thought we were over that.”

“Maybe
you
were, but I wasn’t.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you need to get all of your things so I can take you home, and from here on out, you are my intern and I am your boss. You will forever be Miss Everhart to me, and to you I’ll be Mr. Hamilton.”

“Andrew…”

“Mr. Fucking. Hamilton.”

She rushed over to me and snatched her things, letting a few tears escape her eyes. “Fuck you. FUCK. YOU. This is the last time you’ll ever pull this hot and cold shit on me.” She stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door behind her.

I sighed and felt an immediate pang of guilt in my chest, but I knew it was the right thing to do. It was either cut this bullshit off now, or be responsible for breaking her heart later.

I stepped onto the balcony and lit a cigar—looking up at the moonless sky. Even though I felt bad for ending things so abruptly, for putting her out with no explanation, I needed to get back to who the hell I was and fast before I fucked up and put my heart on the line again…

For my BFF/ultimate beta-reader/amazing assistant/shoulder to cry on whenever I’m acting crazy/ “person” like they say on ‘Grey’s Anatomy’… Tamisha Draper. ( My books would suck without you…)

To Tiffany Neal. Thank you for being the balance. You’ll always be the perfect balance…

To Natasha Gentile…How did you become my friend? LOL

And for the F.L.Y. crew: I fucking love you more than you’ll ever know…

Several months ago…

Andrew

It was all there in black and white, front and center, no filler.

Although the facts were skewed and
The New York Times
had once again neglected to post my photo, the damage to my firm—Henderson & Hart, was now done. And I knew exactly what was about to occur, step by step.

I’d seen it happen in this city too many times before.