Page 35 of Client Privilege

Reluctantly, I climbed into his bed, sinking into the comfortable mattress. Damian switched off the overhead light, leaving only the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The floor creaked as he settled onto his makeshift bed.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice floating up from below.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He reached for the lamp, then paused. “Light on or off?”

“Off is fine,” I said, surprising myself. The darkness had seemed threatening before, but here, with Damian’s steady breathing nearby, it felt almost peaceful.

The room plunged into darkness. I listened to Damian’s breathing gradually slow and deepen.

For the first time since the attack, the tightness in my chest began to unwind.

I burrowed deeper into the covers, and as I did, I caught the subtle scent of sandalwood and clean laundry that lingered on the pillows.

Damian’s scent. It should have made me anxious—sleeping in another man’s bed—but instead, I felt oddly safe. Protected.

“Damian?” I whispered, not sure if he was still awake.

“Mm?” His voice was thick with approaching sleep.

“Thank you. For everything.”

A rustle as he shifted on the floor. “You’d do the same.”

The strange thing was, I believed I would. For him.

I fell asleep surrounded by his scent, and this time, no nightmares came.

Instead, I dreamt of strong arms encircling me, holding me tight—not confining, but protecting.

The scent of Damian’s cologne lingered in my imagination, woody and warm like the man himself, and for once, I didn’t flinch from the closeness. I wanted more.

Damian

I WOKE to sunlight filtering through the curtains and the unfamiliar sound of someone else’s breathing in my bedroom. For a disorienting moment, I couldn’t place it. Then memory rushed back—Alex, the nightmare, the makeshift bed on my floor.

I propped myself up on one elbow and peered up over the edge of the mattress. Alex was curled on his side, one hand tucked beneath his cheek, the other clutching the blanket. In sleep, the worry lines between his brows had smoothed out. He looked younger, almost peaceful.

Something tightened in my chest—an unfamiliar sensation I wasn’t ready to name.

I slipped off of the exercise mat carefully, retrieving clothes from my closet with practiced silence. In the bathroom, I dressed and brushed my teeth, giving myself a stern look in the mirror.

This is a complication you don’t need.

But when I emerged and saw Alex still sleeping soundly—probably his first uninterrupted night since the attack—I couldn’t bring myself to regret the arrangement.

I left a note on the nightstand:

“YOU LOOK LIKE you need this more than usual,” Sandra said, placing a coffee on my desk. She studied my face with that penetrating gaze that missed nothing. “Rough night?”

I took a grateful sip. “Alex had a nightmare. Ended up sleeping in my bedroom.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that, I slept on the floor,” I said quickly. “He was terrified. Couldn’t be alone.”

Sandra settled into the chair across from my desk, crossing her legs. “And how’s that working for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play obtuse, Damian. It doesn’t suit you.” She leaned forward. “You’ve never brought a client home before. Now you’re sharing a bedroom.”

“I slept on the floor,” I repeated, hearing the defensive edge in my voice.

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Her expression softened. “Look, I’ve worked for you for a long time. I’ve seen you date. I’ve seen you break up. I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him.”

I set my coffee down carefully. “He’s a client.”

“Yes, he is.” Sandra’s tone was matter-of-fact. “A vulnerable client who’s been through hell and is currently depending on you for safety, shelter, and legal protection.”

“I’m aware of the ethical implications.”

“Are you?” She wasn’t being unkind, just direct. “Because I’m not sure you’re thinking clearly about this.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What would you have me do? Turn him away? After what Marcus did?”

“Of course not. But there are other options. We could find him secure accommodation. Hire protection. ”

“He trusts me,” I said quietly. “Do you know how hard that is for him? After what he’s been through?”

Sandra studied me for a long moment. “And that’s precisely why you need to be careful. That trust is fragile. If he misinterprets your intentions—”

“I have no intentions,” I interrupted, more sharply than I’d meant to.

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “None at all?”

I didn’t answer immediately. The truth was more complicated than I wanted to admit, even to myself.

“Look,” Sandra said finally, “I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong. You haven’t. You’ve been professional and compassionate. But this situation is unusual, and it’s only going to get more complicated.”

“I know.” I rubbed my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “But what’s the alternative? I can’t abandon him now.”

“No one’s suggesting that.” She leaned back in her chair. “Just… be aware of the line you’re walking. For both your sakes.”

“I am.” I met her gaze steadily. “I won’t compromise his case or his recovery.”

Sandra nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good.” She stood, smoothing her skirt. “Now, Justice Sommers’ clerk called. They’ve moved up the hearing to next Monday morning.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently, she’s received anonymous threats at her home. Wants to get this done before anyone can interfere.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. “Marcus.”

“Most likely. The criminal trial got moved up again too; it’s starting tomorrow now. Blackwood’s firm is doing their best to try and slow things down, but the Crown prosecutor smells blood in the water with an easy conviction.”

I pushed back from my desk, mind already racing through preparations. “ Get Mitchell to pull everything we have on the jury tampering. I want affidavits from both the detective and the Crown prosecutor about the ongoing investigation.”

“Already on it.” Sandra paused at the door. “And Damian? Be careful with Alex. Not just for ethical reasons. He’s been controlled by one powerful man already.”

The implication stung, but I knew she was right. “I’m not Marcus.”

“No, you’re not. But you’re still a powerful figure in his life right now. Just… remember that.”

After she left, I sat staring at the pile of documents on my desk without really seeing them. Sandra’s warning echoed in my mind.

I wasn’t Marcus. I would never be Marcus. But the power imbalance was real, and so was Alex’s vulnerability.

And so, if I was being honest with myself, were my feelings.

I picked up my phone and called home. After four rings, Alex answered, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone deliberately casual. “Just checking in. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said. “Thank you for last night. It really helped.”

“Anytime,” I replied, then immediately wondered if that was too much. “Listen, I’ll be home earlier than expected. We need to prepare for court tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I thought—”

“Change of plans. I’ll explain when I get there.” I hesitated. “Alex?”

“Yes?”

“You’re safe. I promise.”

There was a pause, then his voice, stronger now: “I know.”

After we hung up, I sat for a long moment, staring at the phone. Then I squared my shoulders and turned back to the case files.

One step at a time. Win the case first. Everything else could wait.

It had to.