Jenna finally agreed to meet me three days later.

She came alone, twisting a tissue between her fingers, and confirmed the part of Luca's story I needed most. She had called him because she was afraid. Her boyfriend had been drinking, blocking the door, getting louder. She panicked after the fight and lied because she thought making Luca the problem would calm everything else down.

It did not excuse what Luca had done after he got inside.

It did give us a real defense.

I should have left the office feeling relieved.

Instead, one thought followed me all afternoon.

If this went well, Luca would stop being my client.

That evening he sat across from my desk while we prepared for court. We did actual work. Mostly.

At some point I realized he had read the same witness statement for five minutes without turning the page.

"When did you last sleep?"

He gave me a tired look. "Last night."

"For more than two hours."

"Now you are moving the goalposts."

I smiled despite myself.

The room had gone quiet around us. No holding cell. No officers outside the door. Just papers, cold coffee, and Luca looking worse than usual.

Eventually the joke drained out of him.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see a different version of what happens next."

"Such as?"

"Prison, mostly."

He said it lightly. His hand said something else. His thumb kept worrying the edge of the paper until it bent.

"I can deal with getting hit," he said. "I can deal with people thinking whatever they want about me. It is the idea that somebody else gets to decide when I wake up, when I eat, when a door opens. I cannot shut that part of my head off."

For once, Luca did not look dangerous.

He looked twenty-five.

Exhausted. Scared. Trying very hard not to show either.

"We have Jenna," I said. "We have the call. You are not walking into court with nothing."

"I know."

But he did not sound convinced.

I moved around the desk without thinking and stopped beside him. Too close.

His eyes lifted to mine.

Neither of us moved.

"What?" I asked.

His gaze dipped to my mouth and returned.

"You really want me to answer that while you are still my lawyer?"

My stomach dropped.

I should have stepped back.

I did not.

Luca did it for both of us. He stood, picked up his jacket, and put a careful foot of space between us.

At the door he glanced back.

"When this is over, you are going to have to stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

The corner of his mouth moved.

Then he left.

I stood alone in my office, suddenly very aware that I had not denied looking at him at all.

Could you keep this professional after that conversation? Because Valerie is running out of excuses. ❤️