I found more photographs. Vitale at charity galas in tailored tuxedos. Vitale leaving restaurants with beautiful people on his arm. Vitale in business meetings, shaking hands with politicians and corporate executives. He photographed well—the camera loved those sharp cheekbones, that cold mouth, those eyes that looked black in most images.
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number: "Looking forward to working with you, Counselor."
I stared at the message. I hadn't given Vitale my cell phone number. Hadn't even officially agreed to take the case. But somehow he had my number anyway and knew I would agree.
The presumption should have angered me. Instead, my cock stirred.
I was so fucked.
I called my law school mentor, Professor Sarah Chen. She'd helped me navigate the transition from academia to practice, had written recommendation letters, had always given me straight advice without sugar coating.
"Emilio," she said, warmth in her voice. "It's been too long. How are you?"
"Conflicted," I admitted. "Sterling assigned me a case. High-profile client. Questionable connections. It could make my career or destroy it."
Silence. Then: "Alessandro Vitale."
"You've heard."
"Everyone's heard. The legal gossip mill works faster than the internet." She sighed. "I'm going to give you advice you're not going to like."
"Decline the case."
"Decline the case," she confirmed. "Immediately. Vitale ruins people, Emilio. Lawyers who represent him either end up disbarred or so morally compromised they can't look at themselves in mirrors. There's no winning with men like that. They corrupt everything they touch."
"I need this case," I said quietly. "My numbers are terrible. I'm drowning in debt. Partnership decisions are in six months and if I don't bring in major clients, I'm done at Sterling."
"Then find different major clients. Corporate work. White collar defense. Anything except organized crime."
"Those clients don't want me. I'm not connected enough. Don't have the right pedigree. Vitale's retainer is two hundred thousand dollars, Sarah. That's more than I made all last year."
Another silence. Longer this time. "You've already decided to take it."
Had I? I looked at the spread of files on my coffee table. At that photograph of Vitale leaving the courthouse, all cold beauty and controlled power. At my bank statement on the screen showing an account balance that wouldn't cover rent.
"Yes," I said. "I think I have."
"Then I can't help you." Sarah's voice carried disappointment that cut deeper than Marco's judgment ever could. "Be careful, Emilio. Men like Vitale don't see people as people. We're all just tools to be used or obstacles to be removed. Don't forget which category you fall into."
She hung up. I sat in my apartment surrounded by evidence of violence and corruption, thinking about the text message on my phone and the cold certainty in that photograph.
Looking forward to working with you, Counselor.
I should have been afraid. Should have felt the weight of the terrible decision I was making. Instead, I felt alive in a way I hadn't since before my marriage collapsed. Electric. Dangerous. Like standing at the edge of something that could either destroy me or transform me.
Soon I would meet Alessandro Vitale. Soon I would step into his world and see if I could survive it. Soon I would find out whether I was strong enough to defend a monster without becoming one myself.
Tonight, I sat in my shitty apartment and tried not to think about how badly I wanted to see if the man was as devastating in person as he was in photographs. Tried not to acknowledge the heat pooling low in my belly at the thought of those dark eyesfocused on me. Tried not to imagine what it would feel like to be seen—really seen—by someone that powerful.
I failed at all three.
I opened my laptop and started preparing questions. Trial strategy. Defense theories. All the professional armor I could construct to protect myself from what I suspected was coming.
It wouldn't be enough. I knew that already. Men like Alessandro Vitale didn't get defended—they got worshipped or destroyed, and there was no safe middle ground.
I was going to worship him. I could feel it in my bones. In the way my cock had hardened just thinking about meeting him. In the way my pulse raced at the thought of those cold eyes examining me like a problem to be solved.
This was going to ruin me.
