Page 69 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

Perhaps that is why I’m here, seated next to Alice in this loud club with bright lights and so many people clinging to one another.

“I’m sorry. When I said we should come to the club, I didn’t think it was going to…” she exhales. “I shouldn’t have suggested a club. I just thought the crowd and noise would help.”

I fake a smile. The noise is helping because I no longer feel like I’m alone in the world, stranded on a strip of land that stretches out as far as my eye can see.

Now I feel like I’m suffocating, and the people around me are the bars of the prison cell where I will eventually end up. On the other hand, it also reminds me that while everyone is living their lives, I am fighting for mine.

I might have been better off staying at home. I mean at the motel.

“I’m sorry,” Alice says again, her face ashen with regret.

I know she is trying to help, so I make my smile wider. And I shake my head. “It’s okay. I like it. Better a place like this than somewhere quiet.”

“Because of your thoughts?” She asks.

I nod. “Yes.”

She sighs. “I want to help, but I feel like no matter what I do, it’s useless.” Before I can lie to her again, she adds, “I heard about the case today…that Eric is no longer a suspect. I really thought he was the one.”

Right.

“Thought, or you wanted him to be the one because you feel guilty for getting me into this mess?” My voice has a frosty tinge as the words come flying out.

Alice’s face falls, and I see her eyes glisten with tears, making me feel guilty immediately. I wanted someone to blame for today, and I lashed out at her.

“I’m sorry,” It’s my turn to apologize. “We’ve put that behind us.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she says in a small voice, shaking her head. “I deserve it. I’m to blame for what you are going through now. After all, if I didn’t…if I didn’t sleep with him, you two would have gotten married, and he would still be alive today.”

The corners of my mouth turn downwards at her words. By implication, she is saying that if Brandon and I were together, he would still be alive.

Anyone hearing her would come to only one conclusion—that I killed him because we’re not together anymore.

I exhale in exasperation.

First, Michael with his words.

“You are not taking a plea deal.”

Now Alice.

“I need a stiff drink,” I mutter.

She shoots up from the stool. “I’ll go get one. Two even.” Then she shakes her head. “As many as you want.”

I dismiss her with a half-wave. “A bottle would do. A bottle of something strong.” I mumble.

The eagerness in her eyes irks me. “Okay.”

Then she scampers off. As soon as she leaves, someone takes her seat—a man with sagging pants and a scrawny beard.

“Hi, beautiful.”

I roll my eyes.

“You don’t speak?” He asks rudely.

I sigh, holding my words from slipping through.

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