“There is no other way, Stone. This is your shot. Don’t be such a fool,” Charles spits, slamming his hand against the metal table. “Why do you insist on making this so much harder than it needs to be? Do you not understand what’s at stake here?”
“What’s at stake?” I growl. “Iam the one who has served seven years in this fucking hellhole. I am the one wearing chains and watching my fucking back. Don’t tell me that I don’t understand what’s at stake. Sofind another way.”
“Stone—”
“Hear me, Wentworth. What happened that night ismybusiness. Not yours, not the fucking prosecution’s, and not some fucking judge’s. I did what I had to do, and I will protect that any way I can, even if it means dying within these goddamn walls. So find. Another. Fucking. Way.”
Charles leans back in his chair, running his hand through his graying hair as he takes slow, calming breaths. “I should have known how this was going to go,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how many lives you’ve ruined by your lack of cooperation? The kind of threats my wife gets daily? Or how my children are harassed at school because their father represents a man like you?”
I lean forward, making sure he truly hears me. “This is on you, Charles.Yousaw the opportunity to take on a case that was getting international headlines.Youwanted the worldwide exposure. Andyouinserted yourself where you didn’t belong. What’s happening to your family now is unfortunate, but that’s not on me.”
Charles stands, letting out a heavy sigh before stepping closer and bracing his fists on the table in front of me. He’s trying to intimidate me again, but he should know better by now. “You’re going to rot in here, Blackthorne. There’s only so much help my team can offer you, but without your cooperation, you’re willingly heading to the electric chair.”
I hold his stare, watching as he slowly recoils, realizing he has gotten way too close. He knows damn well just how quickly I could snap his neck. After all, he was the one who got dragged down here three years ago when another inmate wanted to prove just how fucking tough he was with the shiv he’d made out of broken glass and toilet paper. It didn’t bode well for him . . . or his neck.
Like I said, I’m not out here asking for trouble, but if it comes my way, I’ll be damned if I don’t handle it.
“Careful now, Charles. You’re going to want to back up.”
He clenches his jaw and backs up a few steps, turning to pace the small conference room. “Alright, here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells me after a brief pause. “Whether you like it or not, you need to get the public vote. You need the world on your side, and I don’t give a shit if you have to portray a wronged, broken man in order to do it. I have organized an interview for next week. A journalist from Pulse Media will conduct a full interview along with a small camera crew, and I fully expect your complete cooperation with her team. They will be here for the day, and you will give them everything they ask for. Shed a fucking tear for all I care, but you will come out of this with the public vote.”
I gape at him. He’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m about to indulge in this bullshit.
“No.”
“Unfortunately for you, you don’t have a say in the matter. You want to walk free of this place and wipe your hands clean, then you’ll do it. You’ll smile when you need to smile, talk about how hard life has been behind bars, how you’ve been the victim of this horrible crime, and how you’re ready to start fighting for justice and those who have been wronged by the judicial system. You are going to paint yourself as the fucking poster boy for innocence. You are going to flirt with the camera and win overthe hearts of every woman in the country, and you will do it without complaint. Is that clear?”
A scoff tears from the back of my throat, and I slowly stand, watching his face fall as I tower over him. “Let me be clear,” I growl, and he grips his trembling hands together to steady them. “I’m not doing some bullshit interview. I’m not putting on some fucking show. And I’m not letting you exploit my story for ratings. If that’s not something you can abide by, then perhaps it’s time I show you exactly what happens when my wishes are not met.”
Charles holds my stare, his whole body now quivering as he scrambles for a pile of paperwork on the table—a pile I hadn’t even noticed was there. “GUARDS!” he calls out, his voice trembling. “We’re done here.”
And with that, six guards rush into the room, four of them grabbing me as though I’m a threat to my lawyer’s life. Although, I suppose that’s exactly what I am, but damn, give a man the benefit of the doubt, right? I don’t kill innocent people, not that anyone here would know that. And Charles, as much as I despise the little cockroach, there’s no blood on his hands.
The chains and cuffs are put back on, and as they escort Charles out of the conference room, he turns back, braver now that I’m restrained. “Come after me all you fucking want, Stone, but you will be doing this interview. I’m going to wipe my hands clean of you and the trouble your name brings.”
And with that, Charles walks away, having no fucking idea what kind of hell he’s about to rain down over me . . . or her.
3
ARIA
Fuck my actual life.
How is it that my closet is crammed with clothes, yet I still can’t find a top to wear? There are clothes thrown across my bedroom, every color, style, and fabric, but nothing is good enough for the biggest day of my career.
I still can’t believe this is happening. The past week of prep work has been insane. I’ve never put so much dedication and commitment into anything I’ve ever done before. Because in comparison, nothing has ever mattered to me the way this does.
I can’t explain it. This needs to be perfect. It’s my big shot, my one and only opportunity to prove that I have what it takes to be one of the best journalists this country has ever seen. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. In reality, I think it matters because I know something is missing.
The story that had been spun about Stone Blackthorne never sat right with me, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but I will get to the bottom of it, and I will set the story straight. Assuming everything goes off without a hitch today.
I can’t say that I’ve ever walked my ass through the door of a maximum security prison before, but from what I understand, there are a lot of variables. One single odd-smelling fart could set off some ridiculous lockdown, and then I’ll be escorted out without so much as asee you laterand no shot at rescheduling the interview. I have too much riding on this. It’s too important that everything goes smoothly, which is why I’ve spent every waking moment preparing for today.
Grabbing a white V-neck silk top from my closet, I hold it up against my body as I settle in front of my full-length mirror. My hair is still a mess of thick, unkempt auburn waves, and yesterday’s mascara is smudged under my eyes, but it could be worse. At least I’m up and getting ready, and as for this cami, it’s going to have to do. If I keep stressing over my wardrobe, I’m going to end up at this interview in nothing but a black thong.
Pulling the top over my head, I settle it into place before tucking the delicate material into the front of my sage green high-waisted tailored pants. It’s cute. Exactly the look I was going for. The V-neck shows off just a touch of cleavage, but not enough for the prison to flag my outfit. Just enough to potentially gain Stone’s attention and keep him talking.
Grabbing the matching sage blazer off its hanger, I pull it on and love the way it fits. It’s everything, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t go out and specifically buy this pantsuit for the occasion. It’s giving sleek business boss bitch vibes, while also saying don’t fuck with me. It’s sexy, but not barred-from-entry sexy. After all, I don’t need to be walking the halls of this prison only to be hit with a cum shower as I pass a bunch of blue-balled inmates.
