Page 43 of Luca
But as perfect as it felt, the undercurrents of change tugged at me, a slow acceptance that the lines I’d always drawn were blurring. I was no longer just the barrister who clung to the law like it was an unbreakable creed; I was his, and that came with complications. Each time Luca confided in me, every moment he’d shared about his world, stirred something deep within—amix of pride, worry, and a growing willingness to understand his reality.
The days had passed in a haze of courtrooms and whispered phone calls, while the nights overflowed with passionate encounters and exchanges that left my heart racing. I felt different, changed, as if the weight I’d carried for so long had lightened in his presence. I’d catch myself replaying our moments together—his lips on mine, his hand trailing along my skin, the way he looked at me like I was his whole world—and it made everything else seem distant, less significant. Even here, surrounded by the rigid decorum of the courtroom, fidgeting with my pen as I waited for the next case, I couldn’t help but drift back to thoughts of him.
My phone buzzed against the polished wooden table, pulling me from my reverie. I glanced at the screen, and my heart leapt at Luca’s name. His timing felt like a gentle reminder of his presence in my life.
“Hey, you,” I answered, a smile spreading across my lips.
“Hey, beautiful,” he replied, his voice smooth and reassuring. It was as if the world around me faded away, leaving only the warmth of his words. “I wanted to give you an update. We’ve made progress on the case.”
“That’s great! Tell me everything,” I urged, my heart racing at the prospect of good news.
He recounted his findings, his tone filled with excitement. “Oh my god, Luca. That’s amazing. Just what we need,” I squealed in delight before realising where I was and lowering my voice. “We should let the prosecution know. This will blow their case out of the water. All we have to do is provide a shadow of doubt, and that more than fits the bill.”
“Not yet, babe. We’re going to try to use him to ensure the MP gets remanded so he can’t cause us any more grief while awaiting trial,” he said.
I frowned, feeling a twinge of frustration. I’d prefer to simply get Luca exonerated now, but I understood the importance of keeping the MP from being a problem. I couldn’t shake the unease at the thought of him retaliating.
“Alright, but we should disclose this information soon. I’ll tell Bradley in the meantime. He’ll be over the moon.”
“That’s my good girl,” Mr Sexy Kisser said, and my breath hitched. I hadn’t realised I had a praise kink until him.
As we exchanged a few more tender words, my heart soared. The connection we had forged over the past week was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Our moments together had been intense—electric—a blend of passion and warmth that left me breathless. The nights spent sharing laughter and whispered secrets contributed to a joy I hadn’t realised I was missing.
The Clerk entered, signalling that the court session was about to resume.
“I have to go,” I said reluctantly. “But I can’t wait to see you later.”
“Me neither. I’ll be thinking about you,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that sent a thrill down my spine.
I was thrilled with Luca’s news; it meant he wouldn’t face a lengthy court case that could jeopardise his reputation and expose his lifestyle. The bonus of avoiding too much time in front of Lady Frost was a relief, though I knew I’d have to deal with her in the future. Just the thought of her smug, icy expression made my jaw clench. If anyone had a chance of getting him hurt, it was her.
As I chewed on the end of my pen, waiting for my client’s case to be called, I couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts about Luca and the lengths he might go to in order to protect himself. The courtroom buzzed around me, the low hum of whispered conversations blending with the creak of leather chairs, but mymind was elsewhere. I pictured Luca and his Bratva brothers, the unspoken understanding between them, their fierce loyalty to each other. I had always believed in justice, in the law—yet now, I found myself grappling with the reality that sometimes, justice was a slippery concept, especially in the world he inhabited.
What would they do to ensure McDougall co-operated? I didn’t think they’d kill him; after all, he was crucial for Luca’s defence. But I could easily picture the pressure they might exert to keep him in line—strategies that went beyond mere persuasion. The idea of intimidation lingered in the back of my mind, a concept I had once found repugnant. Yet, as I sat there, I felt a disquieting sense of acceptance. This was their world, and perhaps I was starting to grasp that the ends sometimes justified the means.
Maybe it was a terrible thing to ignore, but I found myself unwilling to stand in their way. The law had always seemed so black and white, yet I was beginning to see the reality was far more blurred than I’d ever imagined. My life was becoming entangled in shades of grey, forcing me to confront the unsettling truth that the rules of the game had shifted. Navigating this murky terrain was not just a matter of legality; it was about survival—and my growing connection with Luca.
CHAPTER 26
LUCA
THAT EVENING – CAPTURING MCDOUGALL
After extracting Joey McDougall’s location from that little weasel, Nigel Simpson, the three of us met up with Ash, Romi, Vlad, and Trigger. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, thickening as we prepared to confront the bastard. We probably didn’t need to go en masse, but uncertainty loomed—McDougall could very well be waiting for us with backup. It was odd that he was hiding out here instead of the country estate with the MP. The MP had to know we’d track him down; after all, McDougall had been Julie’s most recent boyfriend, and the police would have wanted to question him. Or at least they should have, if they weren’t all in on framing me. So, was he lying low to avoid the police, or was this some sort of trap set by the very people who had tried to ruin me?
Tension coursed through my body, igniting a heightened awareness as I scanned the area, my instincts screaming at me to remain vigilant. The building loomed in the distance—a decaying wooden railway structure, its paint peeling and splintered like the remnants of a forgotten past. It sat alone on an unused track just outside of London, its size imposing yet shrouded in neglect. The larger section had once housed snowploughs, their metal frames rusted and lifeless, now mereechoes of their former purpose. The smaller part resembled a neglected office, cluttered with debris that told tales of abandonment.
Surrounded by overgrown trees on two sides and an open field on the other, the place felt isolated—an ideal hideout. Or a perfect trap. I couldn’t see anything alarming, but complacency had no place here. With McDougall linked to the MP, we weren’t taking any chances. My heart thudded in my chest, a reminder that the stakes were high, and failure was not an option.
Slipping into our bulletproof vests and dark, inconspicuous overalls to avoid drawing attention, we approached cautiously, weapons in hand. Guns weren’t our weapon of choice in Britain; few were in circulation. Knives or knuckles were the preferred tools of our trade, but since the attacks orchestrated by the MP, we had adapted, equipping ourselves with handguns.
Trigger positioned himself high in a tree, ensuring he had a good vantage point, his sniper rifle ready. Once he signalled he was in position, the rest of us crept toward the building from different directions, avoiding the field. If this wasn’t a trap, we aimed to catch McDougall off guard.
We reached the door without incident and paused, straining to listen. Silence enveloped us, thick with tension, before Vlad kicked it in. The element of surprise was on our side, but it wasn’t needed. The place was empty except for McDougall, sprawled out on a filthy old sofa, an empty bottle in his hand and a bag of coke lying on the scratched wooden coffee table nearby. Fucking bastard was high on drugs and booze!
A battered metal bucket sat near the sink in a small kitchen area off to the side. I grabbed it, filled it with icy cold water from the tap, and threw it over him. He stirred but didn’t fully wake, so I doused him again. This time, the shock brought him around enough to register our presence.
“What the fuck?” he spluttered, bleary-eyed, before his gaze locked onto mine, recognition dawning in his eyes. “You!” he exclaimed, attempting to jump to his feet in a futile effort to run.