Page 35 of Obsession

“You took a liking to lady justice, though.” He nods to the bronze statue I was just touching.

“I didn’t know her name.” I glance back at the statue. It makes sense now, realizing she’s holding a set of scales inone hand and dragging a sword with her other. “Why is she blindfolded?”

“Justice should be rendered without passion or prejudice to ensure a result which is fair.”He says the words like he knows them by heart, like he’s reciting them from memory.

I can’t help but snort, knowing that those are nothing but pretty, meaningless words. The law isn’t fair. This whole world was built on prejudice. Everything is about who you know and what you have. That’s why my family built their livelihood on their reputation as much as anything else.

“You don’t agree with lady justice?” Adrian asks with half a smirk.

“In theory. Practice, however, leaves something to be desired.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone takes our lady here to heart.”

I huff a laugh, but this time Adrian isn’t grinning when his eyes meet mine.

“You don’t believe I practice justice without passion or prejudice?”

“Passion, maybe. But prejudice? Adrian, look at who you work for.” I throw my hands up, as if to gesture to the people we’re surrounded by.

Criminals. Gangsters.Mafia.

How can you say you practice law without prejudice when you work for the mafia? Despite growing up in this world, my family’s business still makes my stomach churn. Ma would always turn the channel when the Costello name was mentioned, but once I got my hands on the internet, I could find it all with one Google search.Costello Famiglia.

It was hard to see my grandfather in the same light after that. The man who sat me on his lap and read my bedtime stories. The one who taught me how to ride a bike. I couldn’t see him as the same man accused of having a distribution network worthbillions in drug money. He had men who sold drugs, stole cars, and committed murder all on his behalf.

The two versions didn’t reconcile.

My father and Marcus wore their hearts on their sleeves. It was obvious to me how much they cared about the family business and how little they cared about me.

And Adrian? He’s just one of the same. Another man caught up in the business of making money at all costs.

I’ve had those before, and they all ended the same. In a heap of disappointment.

Adrian scrubs a hand over his jaw as he watches me. “Have you considered, princess, that maybe I’m out here fighting against prejudice?”

My lips part, ready to tell him that’s a bold-faced lie, but he silences me with his actions. Moving toward the desk, he lifts a stack of papers and reads the names to me. “Anthony Borelli, Tony Sorchese, Marco Del’Amonte?”

“What’s your point?” I ask as my arms cross over my chest.

“With those names, in this city, not one of those men would get a fair day in court. You know what they do?” he asks, dropping the papers back onto his desk.

“I assume they worked for my brother.”

“Bingo.” Adrian waves his pointer finger. “So while they bring in money for your family, the money that has fed and clothed you over the years, your family has sat in your cushy towers reaping the benefits and not facing the consequences. These guys, who are using this money to feed their families, mind you, get picked up and sent straight to prison, all because of their association with your family.”

I don’t like it when he says it like that, like it makes him angry. The words curl uneasily into my brain. I have lived a comfortable life, all while I’ve stood here and told everyone howmuch I hated it. How much I hate what my family does, how they live.

“I didn’t ask for it, though.” I didn’t expect this turn from Adrian. I expected him to just take the cases for the money my brother gave him, not because he had any sense of justice.

Adrian exhales a heavy breath. “No. You didn’t,” he agrees, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Did you find anything?” I’m thankful for his subject change.

“Doesn’t matter, there wasn’t anything good.” I have to turn off the emotions in my head and rebuild my tough exterior, my one defense mechanism to keep Adrian at bay.

He laughs at that, his head tilting back with the gesture. “Or maybe I just knew to hide the good stuff from my snooping brat of a wife, hmm?”

I press my lips into a thin line and plant my hands on my hips, digging into the white silk. “I’m not a brat.”

“But you are a snoop, aren’t you?” I think he’s teasing, but his smirk fades for a moment as he pushes off the doorframe and moves toward me.

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