Dimitri looks away. He walks over to the bachelor party table.

"Fuck," I mutter. I walk over to the table and set the drinks down. Something clicks in my head.

"Hey, baby." It's fucking Paul Carter, the creepy attorney that smells like Braxton. "What'd you do to get that ankle monitor?"

"Is there anything else?" I ask quickly. At least he can't recognize me.

"You know, I'm a lawyer and I wouldn't make you pay with money," he says. "I'm sure we could figure something out."

"No thank you." I walk away. "Hey, Brad," I say to the Bartender.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom." He nods. I sigh and lock the door. At least I can be alone. I sit down on the toilet and drop my head into my hands.

"Pull it together, Ade," I mutter. I splash water on my face and then walk out.

Dimitri's waiting outside. He frowns when he sees me. I keep walking. Dominique is at the bar.

"Fuck," I say. She frowns.

"What?" she asks.

"My lawyer's here," I say.

"Has he seen you?" she asks. I nod. Her eyes look behind me. "Fuck, you see that guy? That blonde one?" I turn around.

"That's my lawyer."

Her eyes widen. "Shit. Maybe I should get arrested."

"You're not funny," I say. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Fucking go for him," Dominique says. She bites her lip as she watches him walk away. "What's his name?"

"Michael Dimitri," I say.

"You talking about my brother?" A masculine voice from behind us says. I jump.

"Who are you?" Dominique asks. The guy smirks.

"Jerome Dimitri." They have the same eye color. But Jerome's hair is dark brown instead of blonde. "Who are you guys?"

"Georgia," I say.

"Paris," Dominique says.

"Can I get a White Russian?" Jerome asks the bartender. "How do you know my brother?"

"I don't," I say. He smirks.

"But you're the one that said his name." He looks over at the table. "Yo, E.Coli!" Jerome yells. Dimitri turns around, looking irritated.

"What kinda a name is that?" Dominique asks. Dimitri starts walking over.

Jerome grins at her. "A fucking hilarious one."

"How about immature, Jerome?" Dimitri says. "What is it?"

"I got you a drink," Jerome says innocently. "Also, this chick says she knows you."

My cheeks are red.

"Is that right?" Dimitri asks.

"No," I say. Dominique grins.

"Jerome's drunk. He doesn't know what he's saying," Dominique says.

"Hey, I'm fucking sober," Jerome says.

"Oh, yeah? What's a gynecologist?" Dominique asks.

Jerome throws an ID badge at her. "I am."

Dimitri laughs. "Nah, you're just a bitch," he says. I smile, biting my lip and looking at the floor.

"So," Dominique says. "You're a pervert? You wanna look at ladies' hoochies?"

Jerome laughs. "That's a bonus."

She and Jerome keep talking. Dimitri looks at me.

"I swear I know you," Dimitri says. I shrug.

"I probably just have one of those faces," I say. He shakes his head.

"No, it's something else," Dimitri says.

"You must be mistaken," I say. "I have to get back to work."

I start bringing drinks to tables and taking orders. I look over and Dominique and Jerome are still talking. She's smiling. He leans forward and whispers something to her. She whispers something back and hits him.

I smile. They're the reason why I used to write.

But now I can't. Braxton took the one thing I loved the most away from me.

My fingers hovered over the computer. I couldn't type anything. I had written at least ten novels, but ever since him and the trial...

I stood up suddenly and threw my laptop against the wall. I crumpled to the ground and started to sob.

Writing was my one true love. I had finished my first novel when I was thirteen, gotten published when I was sixteen. I was always writing, in a journal, on my hand...anywhere.

It was the one thing that truly defined me. But now I was a victim. A stupid whore who cried wolf.

"Adelaide, what did you expect? It's your fault...It's because of what you write, those Erotic fiction books...you wanted it like that. You can't write stuff like that expect us to believe you..."

"Are you okay?" someone asks. I blink.

"I'm fine," I say. My eyes meet Dimitri's.

"Kincaid," he says.

"What gave it away?" I ask.

"The way you just looked. You always look pained, like something's hurting you," he tells me.

"I have to get back to work," I mutter. I walk away and he follows me.

"Why are you working here?" Dimitri asks from behind me.

"I got fired from my other job," I tell him. "What are you doing here?"

"Bachelor party," he says. I grab a tray of drinks.

"Funny, I didn't think you and Paul Carter were friends." He looks at me.

"You don't miss anything, do you?" Dimitri asks. I shrug. "Who's that woman you were with?"

"My roommate."

"I thought you lived alone," he says. I stop walking.

"I got evicted," I say quietly.

"When?" Dimitri asks.

"The day I was arrested." He sighs.

"You should have told me, Kincaid," he says. I shrug.

"You shouldn't be helping me to the extent you are," I tell him. He sighs.

"Don't worry about it." Dimitri looks at me and then around. "You do realize that you're on trial?"

I frown. "Of course."

"You're being constantly watched, scrutinized. What happens if the press finds out about you working here?" Dimitri asks. "Or living with someone that works here?"

"The press can go and fuck themselves," I say. "All I know is that I don't have another job, or anywhere else to stay."

"Stay with me," Dimitri says.

"What?" I ask. I almost drop the tray I'm holding.

"You can stay with me. I'll help you find a job and get back on your feet," he says. I have no idea what to say.

"Uh...just let me...I'll be right back." I shove the drinks at him and walk over to where Dominique is. She's still talking to Jerome. "Can we talk for a minute?" I ask. She nods.

Dominique looks at Jerome, poking his chest, "You're a fuck boy."

I see him grinning as we walk away. "You see my lawyer over there?" I ask.

"Yeah? Why?" she asks.

"He asked me to stay with him."

"At his house?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know it's weird-"

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" Dominique asks. "I already would have been in his bed."

"I'm not....he's not..." I stutter. My cheeks are red.

"It's not like you haven't thought about it," she tells me as we walk backstage. "You should take your wig off."

"I actually haven't...Dimitri's not like that....to me," I say. I take off the wig and run my hands through my hair. I pull the contacts out.

"The way he looked at you...all I'm gonna say is, you should fucking hit that." She's shoving things into my backpack, I'm pretty sure it's lingerie. "He's sexy as hell, and he's your lawyer, so it's the really sexy forbidden shit."

"He's just my lawyer," I say. "Nothing more."

"Whatever. You see his brother though?" Dominique asks.

"Yeah," I say. She hands me my sweatshirt and shoes. "What about the rest of my stuff?"

"It's in your bag," Dominique tells me.

"You like Jerome?" I ask as I slip off the heels. I tie my sneakers and slip on the sweatshirt.

"Yeah. He's different, you know?" Her eyes are lit up. I smile.

"Yeah. Anyways, I should probably go," I say. "I'll call you later."

She hugs me. "Take care, Ade. I'll drop your stuff off at some point."

"Thank you for everything," I say. "Oh, and you should give Jerome a lap dance."

She laughs as I walk away. Dimitri stands up when he sees me.

"You all good?" he asks. I nod. We're almost out the door when Paul Carter stumbles to Dimitri.

"Why you leaving so soon?" he asks. He looks at me. "Hey, baby, why you leaving with him? Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Fuck off, Carter," Dimitri says. He pushes past Carter. I pull my hood up as we walk outside. "Have you been watching the news?" Dimitri asks as we walk.

"A little bit," I say. "They've been saying lots of interesting things about me."

"Don't watch it anymore. It doesn't matter," he says. We get into his car. I cross my legs and look out the window. I glance over at Dimitri and see him looking at my legs. My skirt barely covers my ass.

I cough. "So, do you know when my trial's gonna be?" I ask. He looks up.

"Late November," he says. I nod.

"So in two months?" I ask. Dimitri nods. I yawn. "What time is it?"

"One-thirty," he says. For some reason, I remember Stephanie.

"Is Stephanie gonna be okay with me?" I ask. Dimitri looks up from his phone.

"Oh...uh, I guess I hadn't thought about her," he says. "She'll be fine."

"You sure? She wasn't particularly excited the last time, and I was only there for ten minutes," I say. Dimitri rubs the back of his neck.

"I'll talk to her," Dimitri says. "She's away."

"When does she get back?" I ask.

"Monday I think." He goes back on his phone. "Don't worry about her."

We pull up in front of his apartment. As we're walking through the lobby and getting onto the elevator, I get a lot of strange looks. I pull the sweatshirt tighter around me. They probably think I'm something like a prostitute.

We get off on Dimitri's floor. He leads me to a bedroom. "Does this work?" he asks. I nod. "I'm next door if you need anything."

"Can I have something to sleep in?" I ask. He nods and walks into his room. He comes out and hands me a grey shirt. "Thank you for everything, Dimitri," I say. He smiles.

"Good night, Kincaid," he says. He walks away.

I close the door and sigh. I set my backpack on the ground. I take off my clothes and slip on his shirt. It smells like Dimitri, sharp, spicy and masculine.

I fall back on the bed and shut my eyes. Why would Dimitri want me to stay with him?