Page 34 of Double Standards

Until I seehim.

Of all the people I could’ve dealt with today, District Attorney Daniels was at the bottom of my list. I’ve never liked the man. Obnoxious, smug, and so far up his own ass I’m amazed he can still breathe. Every word out of his mouth is soaked in condescension. Every glance is a silent judgment. He’s the kind of guy who corrects you just to hear himself talk and argues a point even when he’s dead wrong—because in his world, being loud matters more than being right.

I stop mid-step, my stomach twisting.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I mutter under my breath, loud enough for Jada to hear.

She glances up from her screen, brows pinched, and shrugs. “He just showed up,” she shrugs, clearly as confused and annoyed as I am.

Pig-headed doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Daniels lives for the spotlight. He thrives off power plays, flinging his title around like it’s a weapon. And right now, he’s lounging outside my office, legs stretched out with that same infuriating smirk curling his lips, like he’s already won whatever game he’s decided we’re playing.

I resist the urge to turn around and walk straight back out the door because I’m not in the mood to entertain his ego. Instead, I square my shoulders and exhale loudly, heading toward my office, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a greeting.

“Caruthers,” he calls out the moment I push open the door.

Of course he does.

I can hear his steps behind me, the sound of expensive shoes and bloated self-importance echoing off the hallway walls. And just like that, the silence I’d been so grateful for is gone.

“What do you want?” I snap, whirling around. The man practically oozes arrogance, the smug confidence of someone who believes the world owes him something.

“I wanted to talk,” he replies, voice low and theatrical—like he’s auditioning for a crime drama.

After Axel, this guy barely registers.

“Who sent those?” Daniels asks, peering over my shoulder with thinly veiled interest.

I freeze as soon as I see them.

Roses. A dozen of them. Deep red, velvety petals, arranged perfectly in a glass vase on my desk.

I cross the room, drawn to them despite myself. There’s a card sticking out of the arrangement, held in place with a gold pin. My fingers tremble as I slide it out and read the scrawl.

I’m sorry. A x

Beneath the words:a phone number.

My breath hitches. It's short, simple. But somehow, it carriesmore weight than any courtroom monologue I've ever heard. Axel Bonanno, apologizing and leaving evidence of it. Even offering me a way to reach him. It’s startling.

“A client,” I mumble, my pulse racing.

Daniels chuckles behind me. “So the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?” I frown, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

“That Axel Bonanno is your client.” He plops down into the chair opposite my desk, a grin spreading across his smug face. “Didn’t thinkyou, of all people, would represent someone like him.”

“And why is that?” I ask coolly, tilting my head.

“You don’t have what it takes.”

So that’s what this is about.

“You do realize I know you have no evidence against him, right?” I bite back. “You’ve got five days left. Let’s not pretend you’re sitting on a bombshell.”

Daniels smirks. “Five days is more than enough. I suggest you take the loss now.”