Page 114 of Forgotten Prejudice

“You and Kai are acting like children, thinking I have the time or energy to play games with either of you.” He paused his walking and turned to look at me. “You keep dancing around me like this whole thing is some sort of a game. It isn’t, Soren. I’m not here to play. I’m here to get my kid out of the trouble he’s in, and it would help if you stopped with the act.”

Now, I was truly curious. What did Kai do to piss him off? Being familiar with Kai’s type, I assumed he acted like some jealous airhead. Which probably explained Ashton’s short temper.

“I have no idea what games you’re referring to.” I flashed him a toothy smile. “All I wanted was to wish you good morning and to say I would rather you not ride that death-on-wheels machine.”

His expression dulled. “Wait, so this is because of the motorcycle and not because of Kai?”

Twisting my lips, I looked around the busy hall. “Well, I would much rather you not waste your life with him, but yeah.” I moved a hand over my suit. “I don’t want you to get on those things.”

Ashton snorted, taking a step back. “You’re un-fucking-real.”

“Language.”

“Seriously?” His face scrunched up. “You’re not in the position to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

This rebellious side of him rubbed me the wrong way because whenever he gave me this attitude and refused to do as I said, I wanted to spank him. My dick also shared my urge, as it just twitched in my slacks. Wonderful. The last thing I needed prior to getting inside the courtroom was an erection. Yet, instead of stopping myself as a sensible man would, I proceeded to push.

With a step, I closed the distance between us and leaned close enough to hear the sound of his soft breath. “When you answer me like a little brat, I can’t help but wish to place you over my lap and treat you accordingly,” I whispered so only he could hear me.

His lips parted, and his cheeks took on a beautiful shade of red.

Satisfied with his reaction, I straightened up. “Now, then, should we get going? We have a busy day.”

I had undoubtedly overstepped the line with Ashton earlier, but his newfound rebelliousness reminded me of my forgotten desires. Who was I fooling? My feelings for him were far from a thing of the past and were still a burning flame in my frozen heart. Even now, as I found myself interrogating a crucial witness in this case, I couldn’t help but yearn to turn around and catch a glimpse of Ashton in the audience.

I knew exactly where he was seated—second row, third seat on the right—but I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t that consumed. The urge to delve into this new, unexplored side of him was like a ticking time bomb, threatening to push me over the edge with each passing day. What would happen when the time ran out? Seven years ago, I had barely escaped with my life.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Jones, the leading prosecutor, called in that annoying voice of his.

“On what grounds?” the judge asked, tired of Jones’s nonstop objections ever since I put Dion on the stand.

“Hearsay, Your Honor.”

Rolling her eyes, she waved her hand. “Fine. Sustained. The jury may ignore this last statement.” She moved her eyes to me, “Now, then, Mr. Dane, please continue.”

“With pleasure.” I smiled at her before turning back to my witness.

With a mischievous smirk and good looks, one could never suspect the man currently sitting on the witness stand to be a crime lord. And yet, that was precisely what Dion Bianchi was—one heck of a mobster, with half the institutions in this country dying to get him behind bars. Being good at his job, no one had so much as a parking ticket on him. Of course, they’d tried to get him for years, and he’d been on trial on several prior occasions. But, thanks to his wonderful lawyer, who happened to be me, Dion was still a free man.

Representing Dion in the past might have seemed like a conflict of interest, but my prior representation of him was unrelated, and I followed all the necessary procedures, such as informing the judge ahead of time. I also didn’t plan on revealing anything that fell under our attorney-client privilege. Of course, Dion had tried to get away from being a witness by claiming just that, but sadly for him, his request was denied.

“So, let me see if I got it right,” I said, my body half facing Dion, who still smiled from ear to ear. He was either amused by the situation or trying to hide his true emotions. Knowing him for quite some time, I’d bet on both. “You say you were involved with the victim for, give or take, five months?”

“Yes,” he answered with a smooth voice.

“And you admit to having a sexual relationship with the victim?”

“You know how weak I am against temptation.” He winked.

“Answer my question, Mr. Bianchi.”

“Yes. We slept together.” He then looked behind me. “In fact, I can’t even recall the amount of times we had sex.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dion looking directly at Camilo.

Since I had no time for his games, I cleared my throat.

“And yet, you weren’t exclusive. Is that correct?”