Page 3 of Once Kissed

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he says, smiling. “Contessa, may I see you a moment? It’s with regard to the Montenegro case.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” I reach for my iPad and purse, trying to collect myself.

DA Fenske opens the door to allow me through and I rush forward. I smile when he joins me in the hall, thankful to be leaving the law library. “I truly appreciate this opportunity, sir,” I say. “I’ve already begun to prepare the deposition and have requested the case files from the records department.”

“Excellent, Contessa.” He nods to several staff members as we proceed down the hall. Some are renowned attorneys, some hold modest clerical positions. Yet Miles Fenske greets everyone by name while managing to stay on task. “I’m sure you’ll be a tremendous asset to Declan. However, as you may know, Montenegro’s reputation is one of extreme violence. While we think he’ll ignore you given your minor role in the case, we’d like to assign you after-hours police supervision.”

I trip in my alligator loafers. DA Fenske manages to steady me, although the action clearly causes him pain. He releases me slowly, pressing a hand to his side.

My attention travels from his hand to his face. “Sir, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

He lowers his hand and continues forward, forcing a smile. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just an old football injury acting up.”

Based on his hunched posture and strained expression, I don’t believe him, but I don’t dare press. We cut right, past the Homicide Unit and down the row of cubicles, as I carefully gather my words.

“Sir, my apologies, but did you say I would be assigned a police escort?”

DA Fenske adjusts the button to his suit jacket, graciously appearing to miss my grimace. “Correct,” he answers. “While we believe Declan will be Montenegro’s sole focus, Declan feels it would be in your best interest to have protection in case Montenegro becomes aware of your presence and misinterprets your role.”

I clutch my iPad tightly against my chest, not wanting to believe this is happening. Don’t I have enough people watching my every move? “And if I refuse, sir?”

DA Fenske stops a few feet from Declan’s closed office door. Although I’d tried to keep my tone casual, I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “Then another law clerk will take your place.”

Unlike my voice, his is firm, making it clear this matter isn’t up for negotiation.

Another collar wound around my neck, another leash pulled taut. I want to cry. Yet I know I can’t. So instead of fighting, or crying, or pleading, I quietly obey. Just like I’ve done a thousand times before. “Very well, sir. I’ll accept the conditions of my assignment.”

Miles Fenske takes a moment to consider me. He’s not blind, he knows something is wrong. Thankfully, he releases me from his scrutiny and knocks on the door. “Declan, it’s Miles and Contessa. May we come in?”

“Ah, Miles. Yes, please come in,” Declan calls from behind the door.

I adjust my tiny black-framed glasses and take a breath before stepping forward. For all my nervousness, the heavens seem to part as the godlike Declan O’Brien greets me with a dashing smile. He and the hulking male sitting directly in front of him rise from their seats and—

No…not…No!

The police officer in full uniform turns his six-foot-plus frame my way, his light blue shirt tight against a dense mass of muscle, his blond hair shaved close to his scalp, and his light blue eyes staring straight at me. But it’s not his physique, those eyes, or even that humongous gun strapped to his hip that cements me where I stand. It’s his face.

The same face that had dipped between my spread legs all those years ago.

Holy. Shit.

“Hello, Contessa,” Declan says, keeping his smile. He was so busy greeting DA Fenske that he didn’t catch my stupefied response.

I jerk my head and pull the strands of my blond hair forward before nodding Declan’s way. “Hello, Assistant DA O’Brien.”

He chuckles. “I told you, just call me Declan.” He motions to the police officer. “This is my brother, Curran. He’ll be watching you.”

Brother?Cold sweat pours down my spine.Murder me, Jesus. I beg you.

My hands clutch my iPad, hard enough to crush my minute breasts. I bow my head, hoping to shadow my features. “Ma’am,” he says.

Declan motions us to sit and immediately begins discussing his progress on the Montenegro case with Miles. I open my iPad and type feverishly. Or at least, I try. Curran is looking at me. Right at me.

I adjust my position to angle away from him. Damnit. Whyhim? Whyhere? The one time I let loose—the one time I slept with a man I barely knew—the frat boy I avoided, the loudmouth I did my best to ignore—of all people,he’sassigned to guard me?

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the same man I tied to bed with my argyle socks!

I stare hard at my iPad, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as I envision my future and reputation imploding around me.

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