Page 13 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

Only you, Emma. Only you.

I let out a frustrated sigh, raking my fingers through my hair as I glance at the time on my phone. It’s barely nine o’clock in the morning, and I’ve already had two mugs of coffee, but none of it is doing much to clear the haze clouding my brain. I should be reviewing some contracts for Brennen’s winery or finishing the follow-up complaint I filed with the State of Florida on my former classmate, Frank Morely, for mishandling evidence, juror intimidation, and a slew of other unethical tactics allin the name of winning a case for someone who was clearly in the wrong. But instead, I’m replaying yesterday’s awkward encounter with Miles on a loop.

The look in his eyes when he realized who I was—the shock, the flicker of recognition—was like a slap in the face. And I was no better. I froze. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. How could I, when the man I’d been tangled up with the night before suddenly stood in front of me as my brother’s wine critic?

I shake my head, trying to focus on the work in front of me. Brennen is counting on me to keep everything together, especially with the review looming over the winery. I owe it to him to be fully present, to handle this situation with a level head.

I decide to finish completing the follow-up to my complaint against Frank Morely. In law school, I was sure he cheated his way to his degree, but I never had any way to prove it. Well, now I have proof that he’s the sleazy lawyer I always knew he would turn out to be.

Ruby Collins, a long-time client of mine who had me oversee her mother’s estate, reached out to me earlier this week about an uncomfortable situation she had found herself in.

Ruby, a Clerk of Court for Pelican Point, told me that she witnessed Frank handing Judge Stanley, the judge presiding in one of his cases, a thick, white envelope when they met in the parking garage last week.

She also heard that a juror had complained to Judge Stanley about juror intimidation by Frank, but the judge blew it off. I’m not surprised this is how Frank Morely operates, but I am surprised to learn that Judge Stanley is dirty, as well.

I submitted the paperwork to the Florida Bar Association last week, and I’m just finishing the follow-up questionnaire when the door to my office flies open with a bang, slamming against the wall with enough force to dent the drywall and make me jump out of my chair.

“What the fuck, Emma?! What the fuck were you thinking, reporting me to the Florida Bar Association?”

My heart leaps into my throat as Frank storms into my office, his face flushed with anger. He’s disheveled, wild-eyed, and furious—exactly how I remember him from our days in law school, always brimming with arrogance and entitlement.

I hate this guy. It’s scum like him that makes people hate attorneys. And he’s lived up to that reputation since he decided to set up his law practice right here in Pelican Point.

“You can’t be here, Frank.” I demand, my voice shaky but firm as I stand behind my desk, using it as a shield. “You can’t just barge in here like this. You need to leave.”

Frank doesn’t seem to care about my protest. He advances toward me, knocking over a chair in the process then flipping over my assistant’s desk and sending her files, computer, and phone flying across the room. His eyes are blazing with fury, and tension ripples through his body.

“You reported me to the ethics board, didn’t you? It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the reason I’m being suspended.” he spits, his voice trembling with rage. “You’re the one who ratted me out!”

I stiffen, my hands tightening into fists ready to defend myself. Wow, that didn’t take long for him to figure out it was me who reported him. I was hoping when I clicked ‘anonymous’ that my name would be kept out of the report at least for a little while… wishful thinking.

“Yes, Frank,” I say, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “I reported you. You are intimidating jurors and buying off judges. You’ve crossed too many lines, and I’m not going to stand by and let that happen. It’s unethical and illegal.”

“You bitch!” Frank snarls, his face red with anger. “You think you’re so righteous, don’t you? So perfect. Well, you don’t know what you’ve just done.”

He’s seething, his hands shaking with barely restrained fury as he keeps advancing toward me. I can see the hatred in his eyes, how he blames me for everything that’s gone wrong in his life. But I refuse to back down.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Frank screams, pacing the room like a caged animal. “You had no right! None! I did what I had to do to win those cases, and you know it!”

“You crossed a line, Frank,” I repeat, my voice cold.

Frank lets out a primal growl and takes another step toward me, his hands clenched into fists. My heart races in my chest, but I hold my ground, refusing to let him see how scared I am.

“Get out of my office, or I’m calling the police,” I say, my voice low and serious as my hand hovers over the phone.

But Frank isn’t listening. He lunges toward me, and for a split second, I think he’s going to hit me. Fear grips my chest, freezing me in place, but before Frank can lay a hand on me, the door flies open again.

Miles Dawson charges into my office, his face hard as stone, and in one swift motion, he grabs Frank by the back of his shirt and yanks him away from me. Frank’s legs fly up into the air.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Miles growls, his voice low and dangerous. His grip on Frank is ironclad, and the sheer force of his presence makes Frank visibly tremble.

“Let go of me!” Frank spits, struggling to break free from where Miles has his face down on the floor with his knee in his back.

“Answer me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Miles repeats through clenched teeth, his voice even lower now, a quiet threat lacing every word.

From the corner of his eye, Frank glares at Miles, his fury redirected toward this new threat, but it’s clear he’s outmatched. Miles is taller, broader, stronger, and exudes a quiet strength that Frank can’t compete with.

Miles yanks Frank to his feet and shoves him toward the front door. “Get the fuck out of here and never come back. Got it?”

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