The prosecutor stood near the silent auction tables. He spotted us at the same moment I spotted him. His expression went carefully blank.
"The prosecutor," Sandro murmured, following my gaze. "Want to avoid him too?"
"No. I want to face this head-on." I set down my champagne. "Let's go say hello."
We crossed the room together. Roberto watched us approach with the wariness of a man watching a predator close distance.
"Counselor Green," I said when we reached him. Professional. Polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Counselor Rossi." His eyes flicked to Sandro, then back to me. "I could say the same. This doesn't seem like your usual scene."
"I'm expanding my horizons." I kept my voice neutral. "You remember my client, Alessandro Vitale."
"Hard to forget." Roberto's tone was carefully modulated. Not friendly but not openly hostile. "Mr. Vitale. I trust you're enjoying the evening."
"Immensely. Especially the company." Sandro's hand settled on my lower back again. Claiming. Public. Impossible to misinterpret. "Emilio's been invaluable in preparing our defense."
Roberto's jaw tightened. "The trial will determine whose case is stronger."
"The trial will be a formality. We both know your witnesses are lying. The question is whether you'll withdraw the charges before we prove it in open court or whether you'll force us to embarrass the DA's office publicly." Sandro smiled. Cold. Dangerous. "Your choice."
"I don't take direction from defendants." Roberto looked at me. "Emilio, I warned you about this. About getting too close. About compromising yourself. You didn't listen."
"No, I didn't. Because your warnings were about protecting the DA's narrative, not protecting me." I met his eyes steadily. "I'm exactly where I want to be. Doing exactly what I should be doing. If that makes you uncomfortable, that's your problem, not mine."
"It'll be your problem when the bar association asks questions about your relationship with a client under investigation."
"Then I'll answer those questions honestly. Yes, I'm in a relationship with Sandro. No, it doesn't affect my professional judgment. Yes, I'm confident we'll win because your case is built on manufactured evidence and lying witnesses." I stepped closer. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, Roberto? Or are we done here?"
He looked between us. Then shook his head slightly. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe. But it's my mistake to make." I turned away, dismissing him. Sandro's hand remained on my back as we walked away.
"That was brutal," Sandro said once we were out of earshot. "I'm impressed."
"I'm tired of apologizing for my choices. Tired of people acting like I'm some naive idiot who doesn't understand what he's doing." I grabbed another champagne from a passingserver. "I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm choosing you. And fuck anyone who has a problem with that."
"There's my Emilio." He pulled me into a shadowed alcove away from the main crowd. Pressed me against the wall and kissed me hard enough to smudge my carefully neutral expression into something obviously satisfied. "You're magnificent when you're angry."
"You're impossible when you're possessive."
"I'm always possessive. Especially about you." His hand slid into my hair. Gripped just hard enough to make me gasp. "Everyone in this room knows you're mine now. Saw how you defended me to Green. Saw how you let me touch you. Saw everything."
"That was the plan, wasn't it? Make it public. Control the narrative."
"The plan was to show everyone you're not ashamed of being with me. The reality is I got to watch you eviscerate a prosecutor while wearing a tuxedo I bought you. That's significantly better than the plan." He kissed me again. Slower this time. Thorough. "We should stay another hour. Make the rounds. Donate enough money that they can't complain about us making a scene."
"We're not making a scene."
"Not yet. But the night's young." He pulled back and straightened my bow tie. "Come on. There's a city councilman I need to talk to about zoning permits. Try to look less thoroughly kissed."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Mine. And I regret nothing."
We rejoined the crowd. Sandro worked the room with practiced ease, introducing me to people whose names I'd never remember and whose influence I'd probably never need. I played my role. Smiled. Made conversation about topics I didn't careabout with people who were only talking to me because I was attached to Sandro.
But every so often I'd catch someone staring. Judging. Whispering behind their hands. Marco watched us from across the room with an expression that looked almost sad. Mrs. Ashworth glared every time we passed. Roberto stood near the exit looking like he wanted to warn me one more time but knew it was pointless.
