Page 1 of Kidnapped Bratva Virgin

Chapter One – Ava

“And that’s where Moore and Klein went wrong, letting one of the biggest cases in US history gurgle down the drain.” Standing with authority, I finish delivering my analysis of one of the biggest torts cases against a major airline carrier to my class peers and my professor.

I’m a little bleary-eyed, but the cases’ major oversights, even if they were from early 2000s, always fascinated me. I wish with every bone in my body I could have been on the case. I would have gotten to the bottom of it, because how the hell do you lose a case of a passenger suffering stroke only to wind up dead due to no doctor being on board the plane?

Professor Jacob O’ Leary is my hero. In professor form that is, and he pushes me, which I appreciate, because if there’s one thing I love, it’s a “Sudoku puzzle of a law case” on my hands.

Jacob paces behind his lectern, his salt and pepper hair highlighted under the auditorium down lights. “The lack of evidence, and the distortion of the airline footage, along with the varied reports from witnesses, and the lengthy time frame before filing were all contributing factors, I would say.” Professor O’ Leary stops, a smirk landing on his mouth. “Do you think you’re being a little harsh? I mean the Green family did receive over eight million dollars.”

Twisting my mouth, I shake my hair with a hard gaze in the professor’s direction. “No. I don’t think I am. By the time they diverted the flight from Borneo, it took them another hour to land the plane and by that time, Bill Green was brain dead. If it were my case, I would have gotten them twenty million,” I declare confidently as I hear the low rumbles and light chuckles in the background.

But I’m deadly serious. I would have been like a pit bull for my client, wearing the enemy down until I was satisfied I won. That’s what I like to do. Win and win big.

A glint as sharp as a knife’s blade shines in Professor O’ Leary’s eyes. “I like your ambition, Ava. If I didn’t retire from law, I would have hired you.” He chuckles.

That’s because I’m the shit and one of your top students, and you know it.

Smiling triumphantly, I keep standing wanting to say more. “You know how I would have gotten them that extra twelve?” I put forward, not wanting my copious hours of extensive and methodical research to go to waste.

“No. I’m curious. Tell the class.” Professor O’Leary gestures, and I’m glad to indulge him. The other presentations for the morning dulled the light in his eyes, and it was clearly obvious I’d brought his heart back online.

“I would have highlighted the fact employee satisfaction was down for the last three years, and particularly with the airline staff. They weren’t able to find a qualified physician and only had a student on board. The passengers paid business class for premium airline service, and on that day, they were understaffed on board, and staff had complained for months prior about the lackadaisical training received. I would have honed in on that. Not to mention the fact baggage claim and theft through this carrier was rampant for over eighteen monthsover ten different routes. I know because I tracked it,” I spill out, failing to take a breath.

“Then it’s worthy of the twenty million. An expensive lesson for the airline. Impressive digging, Ava.”

“Thank you.”

I wish my sleepless nights were only due to my studies, but Charlie’s Diner aptly named—and located in St. Charles a little over an hour away from the University of Chicago Law is on my mind. I’ve got a small window of just over three minutes to hightail it to the bus stop, only to arrive five minutes early, whip on my apron and take orders from my shitty boss, Gunther. Not that the customers overall are that much better. Good tips are hard to come by too. Passing law school with flying colors is what I’m hanging on to.

It’s what I want for my future. I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life, and as soon as I pass, I can quit the crappy job and do what I love—solve cases. I’m not like my friend, Sophia. Her personal motive for wanting to be in law began with her parents’ car crash and avenging their untimely death.

Nope.Not me. I understood it—but personally, I’m not interested in glory days and fighting for freedom. I like to prove my point and solve the puzzles of the cases. Give me the ones I can sink my teeth into. There’s a reason I was the captain of the debate team in high school, honing my argumentative skills. Sophia wanted to lock up criminals, and I prefer the commercial side and seeing corporations pay out big for clients.

My own father, Logan Knight is my hero, even if he did end up working in the not-for-profit sector barely making ends meet as legal counsel. After Mom passed away, he lost his drive to go after his own dream at a larger firm. A soft ache of regret hits my chest as I think about how badly my father struggledafter my mother’s death, and how many financial hardships he’d battled since then. We had to downsize to renting, but it made me more determined than ever to secure myself financially. And when he passed away with nothing to show for it, it broke my heart.

Class finishes up with the usual loiterers getting in my way. I jostle past, apologizing profusely while waving goodbye to the professor. “Excuse me, ’cuse me. Places to go, places to go.”

“Ava, youareone brutal chick. I’m going to make sure I come and see you for a slip-and-fall so I can rake in the big bucks!” one of my clown classmates shouts out as I bust through the door. There are a few in the class, and my money is on the fact they’re probably not going to graduate. They’re not taking their futures seriously, but that has nothing to do with me.

“Yep!Where’s my money?” I volley back, feeling the sweat building underneath my armpits for fear of being late. I briskly walk down the hall, out of the administration building and arrive at the bus stop, my heart pounding as the noisy behemoth lurches to a stop—right on time, and I tap on with my card.

Looking down at my watch, I bite my bottom lip. “Shit, I’m going to be late,” I groan underneath my breath, willing the bus to barrel through the Chicago traffic so I can avoid being chastised by my hypocritical boss, and thankfully, I arrive at the dingy diner with just enough time to spare.

“Is this the time you’re rolling in here, Ava?” Gunther yells from behind the counter as I fly in the door. His apron is stained with streaks of mustard and what looks to be grill grease, but I can’t be sure. Rebecca, one of the other part-time waitresses is behind the counter, and she’s in school like me. She rolls her eyes as I cut mine at Gunther.

“I’m on time. I’ve still got ten minutes,” I puff out, the heat from the grill exacerbating my anxiety. There’s only a handful of customers seated this afternoon, but I know there’s due to be an afternoon rush in the next hour, and that’s what Gunther’s harping on about.

“And now it’s eight because you’re yapping. Come on, I need you in here,” he grumbles as I run to the back and change quickly, tying up my royal blue apron with the faded embroidery of “Charlie’s Diner” on it.

Rubbing my Chapstick over my dry lips, I tie my hair up and greet Rebecca. “How is he this afternoon?” I whisper. She sighs, sliding the laminated menus back in their slots.

“Grumpy as usual, but extra today because the cook was late for shift. I don’t see why he has to take it out on us, though.” Grabbing a cloth, I shove my waitress pad down my front apron pocket.

“Me neither.”

“Enough with the ladies’ convention. Ava, table six. Rodney’s waiting for you to take his order.” My stomach bunches up into a tight coil of knots. Rodney. A regular customer we could do without. A trucker who’s a lousy tipper with an even worse attitude.

“Hey, Rodney,” I greet dispassionately. I don’t need my pad. Off the top of my head, I know what he’s going to order. I might only be twenty-one, but I feel I’ve aged as much as the blue-and-white checkered curtains on the windows.

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