“I noticed him. Yes.”
“Noticed.” DeLuca makes it sound obscene. “You were staring at a stranger for fifteen minutes. You told police you could describe ‘the exact way his jaw tightens when he’s annoyed.’”
The jury shifts. Whispers.
My face burns.
Dario’s expression goes cold. He leans toward DeLuca, says something sharp and low.
DeLuca hesitates. “I’m simply establishing whether your... fixation on my client might have colored your perception.”
“I wasn’t fixated.” But that’s a fucking lie. Perjury.
“You were watching him. Close enough to describe how he eats. How he moves. You gave police a statement that reads like...” He pauses for effect. “Like someone who’s been studyinghim. Obsessing over him. Perhaps inventing a connection that doesn’t exist?”
“That’s not…”
“Where he played the hero and you played the damsel. Where he noticed you. Stayed for you. Gave you exactly what you wanted.”
My throat closes.
Because he’s right.
That is what I wanted.
To be seen. To matter. To be worth staying for.
And Dario gave me that.
I look at him.
He’s staring at DeLuca like he wants to put him through the table. But when his eyes flick to mine, they soften immediately.
It’s okay, his expression says. I’ve got you.
And that’s when I realize.
He stayed because he wanted to.
This isn’t a fantasy I invented.
I hold his eyes, shift, bite my lip to hold in the moan as I come.
“No further questions,” DeLuca says abruptly, clearly responding to whatever Dario just growled at him.
Dario exhales, wets his lips, and lets his eyes say, perfect.
I’m excused.
I stand on shaking legs. Walk out of the courtroom with as much dignity as I can manage while soaked through my underwear and emotionally destroyed.
The hallway is empty. Cool. Quiet.
I make it to the bathroom before I start crying.
Not hysterics. Just tears. Hot and frustrated and confused.
Because I just testified against him while he eye-fucked me in a court of law.
