"Tell me about yourself," Dimitri says. We got sandwiches and then went to the park. We're sitting on a bench.

"Well, what do you want to know?" I look at him. He smiles.

"Everything."

"Where should I start?" I ask.

"The beginning," he says.

"Uh...I grew up in a small town, like I said. My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen, I finished high school and got a d-" I cut myself off. Adelaide Marks has a degree in Creative writing and literature. But Camille Kincaid doesn't. "I got a job," I say.

"When did you move to New York?" he asks.

"Just about two years ago," I say. "What about you?"

"I grew up in Boston. I went to law school in New York and stayed here," Dimitri tells me. "What's your favorite color?"

"Grey," I tell him. "You?"

"Green," he says. "Lucky number?"

"Thirteen. You?" I say.

"Same. Uh...favorite flower?" He shifts and slings his arm around the back of the bench.

"Magnolias," I say. "Why'd you want to be a lawyer?"

"I wanted to help people who couldn't help themselves," he tells me. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Once," I say. My mind starts to drift to Lincoln.

"What was it like?" Dimitri asks.

I smile. The memories of Lincoln of painful, but he made me happy and we truly loved each other.

"He was like...my happily ever after," I say.

"What happened?" Dimitri asks.

"I had to leave him," I tell him.

"Did you want to?"

"No." I blink a few times.

"Then why did you?" Dimitri asks.

"I didn't have a choice," I say. "How long have you been with Stephanie?"

"Uh, about four years," he says. My eyes widen as I frown. Damn.

"Do you love her?" I ask.

"No," he says quickly.

"Then why are you with her?" I ask.

"It's easy. No strings attached," Dimitri tells me

"Stephanie seems very attached," I say, "And possessive."

"Maybe," Dimitri says. "Where did you live before New York?"

"I grew up in a small town in Portland and then moved to California," I tell him. "Are you and Jerome close?"

"Yeah," Dimitri says.

"Why Stephanie? It just...doesn't make sense."

Dimitri sighs. "I don't need anything complicated in my life." I start laughing and he frowns. "What?"

"You say that you don't need anything complicated." I shake my head. "Dimitri, that's all I am."

"But you're different," he says. "You're perf-uh," he coughs. "You're uh, you don't need to change. You're Kincaid."

I smile. "I'm far from perfect, Dimitri."

"You're too critical of yourself," he tells me. He sighs and frowns. "I just...I can't stop asking myself how you ended up on trial for murder."

"Everyone has secrets," I say. He sighs again.

"I have to ask, Kincaid," he says, "and you need to tell me."

I know he's going to ask about Braxton. And I feel like I have to tell him. Dimitri's done so much for me. He even held me while I cried and didn't ask questions. I owe him so much more than I can pay.

I look at Dimitri. "You can ask me one question and I'll answer it truthfully," I say. He nods.

"How did you know Braxton Thorne?" Dimitri asks.

"I um...I used to work for him." I run my hands over my face. "Back in California. He uh...Braxton didn't treat me well."

I bit my lip. I was hiding in the bathroom. I couldn't face Braxton today. I couldn't deal with his looks and the way he touched me.

God, he had turned me into such a weak girl. I used to brilliant and fearless. Hell, I published worldwide, best-selling, erotic romance when I was sixteen. My parents kicked me out, but I never gave a damn. I never needed them.

But Braxton...he took my spirit away.

I was confident. I was fucking Adelaide Marks. But now I could barely get up in the morning. The days dragged on, I wasn't writing nearly as much as I used to. I had nothing to live for.

Someone banged on the bathroom door. "Adelaide, I know you're in there," Braxton said. I jumped.

How many more days could I take?

"We could..." Dimitri trails off. He's looking off into the distance, his eyes searching. He's thinking deeply. "We could use that. You're probably not the only one-"

"Stop," I say. "You can't use that."

"Why not?" Dimitri asks.

"There's nothing to...you won't find anything. There's no evidence," I say. How can I explain that Adelaide Marks, who was me, used to work for Braxton? But then changed her name to Camille Kincaid whose know on trial for his murder?

"I think I saw something," Dimitri says. "There was some charge brought against him..."

My rape charge.

I stand up. "Stop digging. There's nothing to find," I say. I start walking away.

Dimitri grabs my arm. "Kincaid, you're being unreasonable," he says. "This could help your case, which looks very bad, by the way."

"I don't give a damn about my case!" I try to shrug him off. "You'll only make things worse if you go digging."

"Worse for who, Kincaid?" Dimitri asks. "Braxton Thorne is dead."

"I have to go." I start walking away, right as it starts pouring rain.

"Kincaid!" Dimitri yells. "You don't give a damn about yourself and that's fine! But let me help you!"

I turn around. "His past...It won't help," I say. "Braxton's been hurting me for years and there's nothing you can do to stop it. He's dead and I still wake up screaming, Dimitri."

"I'm sorry for that, Kincaid," Dimitri says as he steps closer. "But there's nothing to gain in protecting a dead man's honor."

"I have to go, Dimitri," I say. "I'll see you tomorrow."