1 Hour Earlier

Marc Nassar

"I did it," Herman, my client, says while fidgeting in the seat in front of my desk in my office.

I lean forward and thread my fingers together on the mahogany, opening my mouth to say something, but finding no words to release.

"Aren't you going to ask which part?" he asks.

"Don't say-"

"I embezzled all of it. All thirty million. God, it feels so good to say that out loud!" Herman smiles like he finally released a kidney stone and the pain is now a memory.

Except I'm no doctor with a petri dish nor a priest in a confessional.

Scrubbing a hand across my cheek, I sigh. "Herman, don't tell me anything else, alright? I was going to put you on the witness stand but I can't now. Still, people are going to try pressing you for answers but don't respond to any of them without consulting me first. Got it?"

"Oh, fuck! Am I going to lose this case because I told you?" With the look on his face, he might as well be passing another kidney stone.

"I think we have different definitions of lose, but I'm here to protect you. So, whether you did it or not won't entirely affect my strategy."

I'm sworn to zealously protect Herman when I took him on as a client. That means making sure he doesn't get a disproportionate sentence or making the prosecutor's job hell. Sometimes both. People often ask me why I fight for the bad guys. But to them I reply, is anyone truly good?

My firm was built on my passion for law and justice. But in reality, cases like Herman's no longer fill my veins with zeal like they used to.

I used to salivate over the complex, challenging cases like a chess master over a board. The types of cases that are wild, out of control, and with too many unknowns. They were things for me to tame, sort, and set to order.

Yet all of that changed when the girls came into my life. My law practice I built from the ground up quickly turned into a colorless, dull image - like a painting of a changing sky that's gray, dark, and lacking in emotion. I continue to take in the image because I'm good at it. I know how to read each harsh stroke like the back of my hand.

But my heart and mind are with my girls - paintings filled with every color imaginable and littered with glitter.

"You're in good hands, Herman. Go home and get some rest. We'll reconvene next week."

"Thanks, Marc. Appreciate all your help." He places his shades over the top of his gelled back, sparse hair before leaving my office.

I glance at my phone and find a message from my house manager.

Kristina: Hola Mr. Nassar. I have a new candidate that we've scheduled for an interview tomorrow afternoon. They will prepare a test meal after.

Me: Thank you, Kristina. Hopefully this one works out. How are the girls doing?

Kristina: Heidi is at the playground with them now.

Their little squeals of joy fill my brain and warmth radiates through me. I click to FaceTime Heidi. Her gray hair and sounds of kids playing are the first things that meet my senses when the call goes through. "Nina! Laila! Come say hi to your dad!" she says before turning to face me. "Hi Mr. Nassar! Your girls are here."

Laila emerges on the screen carrying the biggest, missing-teeth grin. "Baba!" she squeals before Nina is pushing her for a view of the screen.

"I want to hold it!" Nina screams before smiling at me. "Hi, Baba!"

Weightlessness fills me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. "Hi, girls. Are you having fun at the playground?"

Heidi's face instantly fills the phone screen and she grimaces. "There was a small incident but everything is okay now."

My stomach clenches. "What incident?"

"I pushed a girl off of the slide, and then Nina kicked her!" Laila yells from beside the phone as if she's proud of it.

Oh my God. My stomach drops. "Heidi, please hand the phone back to them."

"Dad, she was being mean! She called us names!" Laila's little nose scrunches.

"Habibti, you still can't do that! We'll talk about this when I get home later."

"You promise you'll come home tonight and see us?" Nina's soft voice travels through the receiver.

"Yes, I promise. Okay be good to Ms. Heidi. Love you, we'll talk later."

"Wait! I have to tell you what happened with the sparkles this morning! It was so funny!" Laila launches into a story about their art class and unicorns, but I can barely pay attention. I'm still stuck on the fact that my girls are hitting people at the playground. And the fact that I'll probably get home late tonight after work, well after their bedtime.

I've been haunted for the past five years - not doing enough for them, not being the father they need me to be, their mother abandoning them, leaving them desperate for affection. This is probably the reason I can't seem to step away from my work. There's a constant, gnawing feeling that I'm disappointing them or messing something up. While I've gotten as many people as I can to surround the twins and take care of them, I've come to realize it's no replacement for a mother.

And moments like these remind me why I need to continue looking for a partner - a wife to help fill in the missing piece that they need. My staff and I are clearly not enough to fill that for them.

It feels transactional, but that's the way it has to be. With my work schedule, I have no time to fall in love or find "the one". But, that's fine. Love is overrated anyway. If this woman and I are at least on the same wavelength and get along fine, then I see no problem with it. A calm, no drama woman that will love the girls as much as I do, and fill that void in their lives, would fit the bill.

But that means I have to find the time to go on dates in between running my company and spending time with my daughters. It'll be exhausting in the short term, but well worth it in the long run.

Laila finishes her story and we all say our goodbyes. I text Vivian to see if she wants to go out for dinner this weekend. She texts back immediately and we finalize a date and time.

After I finish up some paperwork and respond to emails, I gather my things to head to the courthouse for the deposition. Later, I'll need to see if there's anyone else I could get to know more. Vivian seems like a viable option but I need to be prepared if she isn't.

I head to the building's garage and jump into my black BMW that purrs so beautifully when I drive it out of the lot. I'm met with heavy traffic, but maneuver around some of the cars to get into the lane that's moving the fastest. I get a text from Herman but ignore it as I pull into the next lane.

Suddenly, I'm thrown forward against my seatbelt as a car rear ends me. I jolt back up and hit the brakes. In my rearview mirror, a woman looks to be ducking down. What is she doing? Is she drunk?

Great. I'm probably going to be late for the deposition now. "Siri, send Court Admin a message saying I'm running behind schedule," I say as I press down on the Siri function. I quickly signal for the car behind me to pull over. When we both pull into the wide shoulder, I jump out of the car. The impact didn't feel that serious, but I still need to check the damage.

A small dent. Okay, not bad at all. "Alright, it doesn't look that serious. Let's exchange car insurance information," I say while I start to examine the other car that already has quite a few dents and scratches.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about this. I don't have car insurance, and I don't have any money. I don't have any parents to bail me out. And as of an hour ago, I don't have a job." Her voice has a slight rasp to it. Not as deep as a smoker's but still there and pulling at phantom strings within my body.

"I don't even have any prospect of jobs lined up, and have to lie on my resume to even get any interviews!"

I glance up and try to take her in, but she's flinging her arms in the air.

"I'm not sure when I'd even be able to pay you back for the damage...I don't have much else of anything to offer to fix your car, but I promise you, I have a great rack. So, how about I show you my tits, and then we can call it a day and go our separate ways?"

"Jesus." I drop my eyelids when her words register. Heat fills my cheeks as I replay what this woman just said to me. What the hell is happening? One minute I'm talking to my girls about sparkles and unicorns and the next I'm getting into a car accident and receiving terms for a sexual favor.

While I've received more lewd offers at the prison, or even in the courtroom, the place I'd least expect for it to happen is right around my building. And right now, the bright sun is a spotlight for all my employees and associates to see.

"So, is this like a one, two, three thing where I lift up my shirt and then you open your eyes on three?"

I place my thumb and index finger over my eyes - a fail safe in case I accidentally open them. "Jesus. Please don't show me your tits."

She's quiet for a moment and I'm about to put my hand down but freeze when she says, "I swear they look normal, other than my pierced nipples. I have double D cups that get raving reviews."

Great. Now I'm picturing them. I should not be picturing them. "Miss, I'm sure your," I clear my throat, "parts are amazing like you say they are. I'd just rather discuss another option for payment. Preferably one that won't kill my career."

"Okay, okay! Sorry I offered. I told you I don't have anything else, so I don't know what else I could give you."

The resignation in her voice loosens my fingers. I slowly open my eyes, bringing my hand down and gluing my gaze to anything above her neckline - and nothing below. She smiles feebly. I hadn't really seen her face before this. I look away as her features etch into my memory - raven black hair as dark as night, big, piercing blue eyes that could bring any man to his knees, and lips fuller than a wolf's moon (and equally begging for howls).

"You can look at me, you know? I'm not going to flash you. You've made yourself clear."

A laugh escapes me. This girl is honest with me, so I might as well be honest with her. "Well, I'd rather not stare at your chest and picture your piercings, alright?"

She laughs and my chest does something weird. "Because piercings are gross? Or do I have a gentleman in my midst? If it's the former, then you'd be surprised how cute they look. And if it's the latter, don't worry good sir. I'm no lady."

I should not be having this conversation and I should not be looking back. But I am and I do. I let my gaze drop down briefly. Colorful tattoos mark her arms. Nina and Laila would have a field day with that kind of artwork. Her hourglass shape is highlighted by her black t-shirt which covers her 'Highly recommended double D cups with pierced nipples'. Shit, it's all I can picture right now. Arousal swells through me and I quickly look away.

"Do you like what you see?" Amusement is clear with the inflection of her voice.

I huff out a laugh. I'm a dad of two daughters and my main goal in life is to be responsible - I can't like what I see. I should not be entertaining this young woman. Still, I look back as heat continues to fill my limbs.

She does look young with her smooth skin and full lips, but everything else, from her heated gaze to her straightened stance, screams she's well beyond her years. "How old are you?"

She smiles coyly, drawing my attention to the little mole on the side of her lip. "Old enough to be making offers like this."

I laugh again, somewhat incredulously. "You know that type of offer is illegal in the state of Georgia? It's a Class B misdemeanor, up to a hundred and eighty days in county jail and a two thousand dollar fine. And since we're in public, it could also be public lewdness - Class A, one year, and four thousand dollars."

Her face drops and eyes grow. "What are you? Some kind of cop or something?"

"Or something." I smile to let her know I'm teasing and not going to turn her in. Something tells me this is not a regular occurrence for her. The desperation in her tone earlier and her impassioned speech about being shit out of luck may be influencing that thought.

She moves her lips to the side before her smile gradually comes back, doing something again to my chest. "So, how are you going to punish me for making such an offer?"

Blood re-routes toward my groin and I take a step back. "Jesus," I mutter under my breath. I've only known this woman for two seconds and she's already making me feel some type of way.

Maybe she targeted my car to get money out of me? This is how some of my clients get into trouble. My cheeks loosen and I clear my throat. I need to shut down whatever this is as soon as possible. Also, I bet a wandering colleague is standing close by witnessing. "I have to go. Don't worry about the dent. I got it."

Her expression morphs as she raises a brow and then creases her forehead. Wheels are likely turning in her head. I use the opportunity to take in more of her. She's taller than the average woman, but still about a foot shorter than me. Something about her is pulling me in, like a moth to a flame. It's like whatever air she's releasing from her breathing is traveling across space, converting into electricity, and shooting straight into my veins, bypassing the diffusion process. I'm about to ask her what happened to her job, but she nods, smiles, and then says, "Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much."

Without another word, she leaves and jumps back in her car. I'm still standing there, staring at her, unable to move. She peels back onto the street and I dumbly give her a small wave when she looks back at me.

When her car disappears around the corner, I glance at my phone and read the text from Herman.

Herman: Some bitch attacked me at lunch! I want to sue!

Sighing, I lock my phone without responding and tuck the device back into my pocket. I did the right thing by not prolonging that dangerous conversation with that woman. She has trouble written all over her. As I get back into my car, I wonder about her story. Dullness fills my chest and the electric current rushing through me drains as I peel back into traffic.

***

Okay we've officially met both Celeste and Marc! What do we think of them and their meet cute? Get ready for some fun coming up! Thanks for reading, voting, and commenting! ♥️