"Good. See you Monday." He hung up.
I sat holding my phone and processing what had just happened. Richard had approved. Had essentially endorsed my public confrontation with a prosecutor. Maybe because it wasthe truth, or maybe because Richard appreciated the strategy of it.
Either way, I'd crossed another line tonight. Publicly aligned myself with Sandro. Declared in front of witnesses that I was his attorney and proud of it, regardless of what anyone else thought.
There was no going back now.
My phone buzzed again. Another text from Sandro.
Sleep well, Emilio. Tomorrow we'll celebrate properly. I'm proud of you.
I fell asleep thinking about those words. About someone being proud of me for being myself instead of the version everyone else wanted. About how Sandro saw me more clearly than anyone ever had and wanted me anyway.
About how completely I was falling for a man who was probably going to destroy me.
And how little I cared about that possibility compared to how good it felt to finally be seen.
I was in too deep to save myself now.
But maybe I didn't want to be saved.
Maybe drowning in Alessandro Vitale was exactly what I'd been looking for all along.
CHAPTER 10: SANDRO
THE CALL CAMEat 8:40 PM while I was reviewing contracts in my office at Inferno. Martin Cross, my contact inside the DA's office—a records clerk who supplemented his pathetic salary with information brokering.
"You're going to want to hear this," Martin said without preamble. "Your attorney just eviscerated Roberto Green at the fundraiser. In front of everyone. It was beautiful."
I set down my pen. "Details."
Martin recounted the confrontation with obvious glee. The passive-aggressive comment about being desperate for billable hours. Emilio's surgical dismantling of Green's conviction rate. The parting shot about overcooked veal and legal arguments that had apparently left Green speechless with rage.
"He walked out like he owned the place," Martin finished. "Half the room was shocked. The other half looked like they wanted to applaud. Your boy's got spine, Vitale. I'll give him that."
My boy. The possessiveness in that phrase pleased me.
"Thank you, Martin. The usual will be in your account by morning." I ended the call and immediately texted Emilio.
I heard what happened. Well done.
His response came quickly, probably from the lobby or his car:How do you already know what happened? I just walked out.
I smiled and typed:I have people everywhere. You were magnificent. Dinner tomorrow to celebrate?
Yes. Where?
My place. 7 PM. Come hungry.
I leaned back in my chair and thought about what Martin had described. Emilio publicly defending his choice to represent me. Standing up to a prosecutor who'd tried to shame him. Walking out with his head high instead of shrinking from confrontation.
Perfect.
I'd been gradually breaking down his resistance, compromising his ethics piece by piece. But this—this was different. This was Emilio choosing to stand with me not because I'd manipulated him into it, but because he genuinely believed he was doing the right thing.
That was infinitely more valuable than forced compliance.
I pulled up the background file on Roberto Green. There had to be something I could use. Everyone had secrets. Green's would be mundane—an affair, financial problems, some minor corruption he thought no one knew about. Standard prosecutor vulnerabilities.
