Page 22 of Snap Shot

It's a low, stern hint of caution, causing my dick to stir. Jesus.

“You've hired me because I'm the best at what I do.”

“And because we're friends.”

Her eyes simmer, controlled fury crescendoing as she blinks. Blink. Blink. Blink. “We'renotfriends.” Okay, more than kinda like it. I absolutely enjoy winding her up.

“Sure, we are.” Lawyers like to argue, right?

“Mr. Radek,” she repeats with another sigh. I'd prefer her saying my name like that under different circumstances. “Can we focus on the case? I need you to be straightforward with me.”

“I'm always straightforward.”

“That's nice to hear.” Her hand claps on the desk. “I have many questions, but I'd like to hear your side first.”

Motioning over my torso, palms spread, I melt into my seat again. “I'm an open book.”

“Great.” She pulls a wireless keyboard from below her iMac. “Start from the beginning.”

A more perfect moment to be a smartass couldn't exist if I planned it myself. I know what she meant, but I'd rather spend the hour chipping away at Indi's frozen heart than talk about last season's shitshow. I want her to be the person I saw at the club: relaxed, intriguing, with that sweet, subtle smile. It's ridiculous, but Ireallywant her to like me.

“It all started when my mom and dad fell in love. One thing led to another…”

Her typing stops, head turning from the monitor in melodramatic slo-mo. I have to pull my lips inside my mouth to hold back, but my shoulders shake with laughter.

“Is this a joke to you? You find this funny?” Her dark, full brows pucker, that plump set of muted red lips tugging to one side. Every question after warbles as I imagine how outstanding the deep shade would look spread over and staining my coc—

A beige folder slaps onto the desk, jolting me out of my distracted, ill-timed fantasy. Indi slides over a page-size version of the infamous photo blasted on the news and countless online articles. “You find this funny, too?” My smile retreats.

I fuckinghatethat picture.

She hums. “Glad to see you're finally taking this seriously. If you will let me do my job, we can probably get this settled out of court. Now” —she taps a charcoal grey, manicured nail on the horrible image— “I don't want to assume, but there issometruth to this picture, correct?”

The accusation stings worse than when I got chewed out by Coach. And the GM.

“I thought you're supposed to defend me,Ms. Davé.”

“I'm trying to. But you have to be truthful.” She pauses and leans back in her chair. “Did you sleep with Annalise Pall?” Like a hot knife through butter, her critical and unfeeling gaze cuts away at my remaining composure.

My teeth grind, the grating sound scratching against my eardrums. “Last time I checked, sleeping with someone isn't a crime.”

“It's not.”

“Then what's your point?” In the last few minutes, she's managed to hit every last nerve. Including the one that makes my main man swell up.

“You do understand the gravity of this situation, right, Mr. Radek? We can't claim she's lying on your word alone.”

“Well, sheis.”

“Okay. Which part?” A curt, snide response thrown back, complete with crossed arms.

I stay silent, withdrawing. Indi quirks an eyebrow while we lock eyes before a new photo appears on top of the previous.

“What about Callis Key, the supermodel. Were you sexually involved with her as well?”

Callis's arm hooks through mine, mid-stride in formalwear at some post-runway event.

Another picture joins them.

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