Page 21 of Contention

“I reached out to the PI earlier today. I know he has names already,” Kara replies. “We just might need to get out this weekend and speak with some of them and see if they will get on the stand.”

The named partner of the firm gives her a tired smile that softens his face. “Perfect. Get some rest, Kara. I need you sharp in court, not running half empty. This is not the case to screw around on.”

Kara watches him as he walks out the front, going to hail a cab no doubt. She sighs, trying to not dwell on her failure, on the humiliation of it all. She’d do better. She’d impress Derrick and remind him why he put her on this case in the first place.

She just needed to get the hell out of her own mind. The past has no place in her present.

Even as the energy continues to seep from her body, Kara hoists her tote up to her shoulder and walks down the hall, taking a few turns until arriving at the elevators. Her car is parked in the multi-story parking garage, delving deep underground.

More than anything, she wants to get home and forget about her poor showing today. Not just that, but she doesn’t even want to think about how pathetic she must have looked in front of…that…rich asshole in his fancy suit. The suit that probably costs as much as her rent.

With a sigh, Kara presses the down button, waiting for the elevator to announce its arrival.

When it does, she steps in and presses down, to the very bottom.

Just as the doors nearly shut, a hand slips between them and they open once more, allowing a man to slip inside.

Kara glances at him and exhales as slow as she can. “You’ve got to be joking me. Couldn’t you have waited one minute for the next elevator down?”

Nicholas Havenwood-Calais gives her a wry look, square shoulders taking up far too much space for Kara’s comfort. “You’re more than welcome to get out.”

Giving him her blankest look, Kara says drily, “Yeah. I’m not doing that.”

Not even with the small space quickly filling with the familiar scent of his cologne and whatever mint is on his breath.

The doors move to close and Calais shifts, digging his phone out of his pocket, glancing at something on the screen. “Suit yourself, sweetpea.”

Her growl fills the elevator like a hurricane and the scene that plays out in her mind is not unlike a wildcat leaping up onto him for a well-deserved mauling.

But, Kara refrains from fulfilling her fantasy.

Because she’s not a savage. At least, not completely.

The elevator is unbearably slow, the kind that gives people the willies thinking it might just break down at any moment.

“By the way,” he says with a smooth tone, edged with his familiar rasp, low and curling in his throat. “You look profoundly atrocious today.”

“You know, I really don’t recall asking you,” Kara snaps back, glaring pointedly at the screen that counts down the floors, trying to not flush behind her large glasses. How fucking embarrassing.

Why is this elevator so slow?! Someone service this thing. She needs to get out and away from him.

He sniffs, still not giving her a single glance. He puts his phone away, sliding it back into his dark slacks. “Sometimes we have to hear hard truths. Don’t be undignified about it.”

Kara sputters.Undignified?Oh, she’d loved to show him a few undignified things. She’d love to blast him over the head with her tote. It’s certainly heavy enough to cause some damage. Or she could stab him with one of her high heels, like staking a vampire. Gritting her teeth, Kara sharply averts her face from him, cursing him out under her breath.

The ride finishes in tense silence, Kara feeling angry enough to bend iron. Calais seems completely oblivious to her and her discomfort, which is absurdly annoying. The elevator dings loudly and Kara steps forward quickly, her shoes clicking loudly on the cement as she does so.

She’s not sure if she imagines it or not, but it feels like his eyes are burning into her spine with every step she takes.

Chapter 8

With purpose, back straight and stiff, Kara quickly makes a beeline to where she vaguely recalls parking her car earlier in the morning. The lights above in the underground lot are morbidly dark, in bad shape, shedding a miserable greenish light across the concrete flooring.

Her feet are shredded in her heels, wounds from partying in those uncomfortable shoes from days ago still unhealed. She feels her mouth twist with pain as she quickly strides towards her vehicle, distantly hearing the click of a man’s shoes echoing elsewhere.

Feeling her heart race, Kara tries to not feel like she’s being chased in a horror flick. But.

It’s hard not to feel that way.

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