Page 19 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Seventeen: Ruby

I woke up with a headache and a pit in my stomach, and for once, it wasn’t the coffee withdrawal or the hangover or too little sleep. It was him.

And then I sighed…because who was I kidding? Those things were just a symptom of the cause.

The cause was always him.

Kieran Callahan had a way of getting under my skin like the best kind of drugs…

an addiction that killed you soft and slow, that made you feel good as it suffocated you.

One night. One goddamn night, and I couldn’t stop replaying the way he had pushed me against the wall, the way his hands felt on my thighs, the way he looked up at me like he was kneeling at an altar.

I couldn’t mean anything to Kieran. He couldn’t mean anything to me.

We both knew that. And yet…Rosie was halfway through building a stack of toast with everything but structural integrity, looking up at me with peanut-butter-smeared cheeks and sparkling green eyes—Kieran’s eyes, damn it.

She’d woken up before me, sliding out of bed and—I guess—making herself breakfast.

“You’re awake?” I asked.

“Yeah, an owl woke me up. I think there was one right outside my window.”

“How do you know?”

“He kept asking who-who.”

I laughed. “That’s cute,” I said. “Did you wash your hands before you did this?”

“Yes,” she said. I looked at her. “Okay, no.”

“Go wash your hands. I’ll finish up here,” I said, eyeing the precariously built stack of toast.

“Okay,” Rosie said. She dragged the little step stool from the side of the kitchen so she could climb up and wash her hands in the sink and I started sorting the toast tower she’d made into an edible and an inedible stack.

The espresso machine growled as it started its scheduled brew for the day, waking me up a little more.

“Are you driving me to school today, mami?”

“I always drive you to school,” I said automatically, then froze.

Because I didn’t always. Not anymore.

Lately, Julian had taken her a few mornings a week, ever since we started this whole post-marriage civility experiment—“for Rosie’s stability,” we said, which was code for: “so we don’t murder each other before the custody agreement is finalized.”

Rosie was still scrubbing her hands at the sink like it was a science experiment. “But Daddy said he might pick me up later, if Valerie’s doctor thing ends early.”

Right. Valerie, the doctor-slash-goddess of moral high ground. Of course she had a “doctor thing.”

“I thought Valerie was an administrator,” I said.

Rosie scrunched her nose. “Daddy said she oversees the Emergency Room. I think that means she’s a doctor. Can she be both?”

“Yeah, I think she has to be.”

“Like you’re a lawyer and the DA.”

“Exactly. One depends on the other,” I said, putting a plate of toast in front of her. “Go get the orange juice from the fridge, amor.”

“Okay!” Rosie jumped off the stool cheerfully. I looked at my phone as she did, opening my calendar up. My day was crazy and it finished late. These were just the meetings I knew about.

Back-to-back meetings, a court appearance, a prep session for the Fulton case, and a sit-down with the city comptroller’s office about the uptick in overtime claims. And if the agents working the Callahan case decided to “drop by,” I was going to scream.

Or drink.

Or both.

“Got it!” Rosie called, holding the orange juice triumphantly like she’d slain a dragon for it.

“Gracias, mi amor.” I poured her a glass and kissed the top of her head before taking a long, desperate sip of my espresso.

“You look tired,” she said, peering up at me like a concerned intern.

“I am tired.”

“Because of work?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Work.”

Not the man who got on his knees in my foyer. Not the man who left me aching and hollow. Not the man who—

“Can I tell you a secret?” Rosie asked suddenly, leaning in.

I blinked. “Always.”

She cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered, “I think Valerie might be a witch.”

I blinked again.

“She always knows what I want before I say it. And she brought me a glow-in-the-dark sticker book. Only witches do that.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “if she turns you into a toad, you let me know.”

“How? Toads don’t talk.”

“That’s why you need a lawyer before she turns you into one,” I said. “You need to draft a contract for both your sakes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, mami.”

Rosie was still chattering about her toast tower as we headed out the door, backpack bouncing against her sparkly pink jacket, completely unaware that I was unraveling like a cheap suit thread.

I was halfway to the school when my phone rang.

Unknown Number.

My stomach clenched. Rosie was humming along to some kids' podcast in the backseat, kicking her feet like it was any other Tuesday.

I tapped speaker.

“Hello?”

“District Attorney Marquez? This is Special Counsel Lucy Darnell with the Department of Justice.”

The hum in the car vanished. Or maybe I just couldn’t hear anything past the static in my ears.

“This is—yes. This is Ruby Marquez,” I said, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling to formally advise you that a federal review of prosecutorial conduct in your district is being opened. This pertains to a pattern of obstruction observed in connection with ongoing investigations into the Callahan criminal organization.”

Rosie perked up from the back. “Mommy, what’s a Callahan?”

“Not now, baby,” I said quickly, my voice almost cracking.

Special Counsel Darnell continued, voice smooth as marble and just as cold.

“You’ll be receiving a formal letter this morning.

In the meantime, we’d like to schedule an interview—voluntary, of course.

We expect the city will want to help prosecute, but we’re working on something big.

Something national. You can help us, if you wish. Or…”

Or it won’t be voluntary. Lucy Darnell was polite, but I wasn’t an idiot.

“Of course,” I said automatically.

I couldn’t feel my legs.

“Can we speak today, Ms. Marquez?”

“I—” My hand trembled. I missed the turn for school. Rosie didn’t notice. I pulled into the side street just past it and parked, not trusting myself to drive. “I’ll have to check with my office.”

“Okay. I’ll have my secretary get in touch with yours. The sooner the better, DA Marquez. You understand.”

“I do understand,” I said. “You let me know.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You too, Counsel. Speak soon.”

She hung up and I looked at Rosie through the passenger camera. “You doing okay, peanut?”

“Yes, mami. Are you? You sound mad.”

“Just dumb work stuff, love,” I said, driving toward the school again. “I’m not mad.”

Rosie shrugged. “Okay. Do you want to sing?”

“Yes,” I said.

She sang, softly and off-key, while I tried to breathe. While I tried not to scream. While I realized I was probably fucked.

And it was only 8:04 am.

I dropped Rosie off ten minutes late, her little hand warm in mine as we crossed the sidewalk. I kissed her goodbye like it wasn’t possibly the last normal day we’d have in a while. She didn’t notice the tremor in my hands. She never did.

I watched until she disappeared through the front doors.

Then I got back in the car and drove.

The Justice Building always looked too clean, too sterile for the messes it tried to contain.

I badged through the front door, bypassed security, and made it to the elevators before the bile in my throat threatened to rise.

My office door was already ajar, and I wasn’t surprised to find Alek sitting behind my desk, sleeves rolled up, tie askew, a coffee cup in one hand and a stack of case files in the other.

He didn’t look up when I entered. “You’re late.”

“I got a call,” I said. “From Lucy Darnell.”

That got his attention.

He set down the file and leaned back, eyes scanning me like I was a hostile witness. “And?”

“She’s opening a federal review. Obstruction tied to the Callahan case.”

His jaw flexed. “Did she say it was about you specifically?”

“She didn’t have to.” I threw my bag onto the couch. “She wants to meet today.”

“Did you tell her yes?”

“I said I’d check with my office.”

“That was the wrong answer.”

“Was it? You’re my lawyer. I’m checking with my office.”

Alek didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched me like he was counting how many seconds I had left before I snapped.

“You should’ve told her no,” he said finally. “You should’ve said, ‘This conversation requires counsel present. Please direct all communications through my office.’ Like we rehearsed.”

“She knows I’m not going to speak to her without counsel. She’s not an idiot,” I said. “Get out of my chair.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he said, getting up and rounding my desk to lean against it. “Look, I’m just saying, we rehearsed what to do if they came knocking. This is them knocking, Ruby.”

I dropped into the chair across from him, curling my fingers into my palms. “I had Rosie in the car.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“I didn’t want to panic her,” I said, quieter.

That made him pause—just for a second. “She hear anything?”

I shook my head. “Not really. She asked what a Callahan was.”

Alek cursed under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.

I hated this. I hated how much he looked like he wanted to fix it and couldn’t.

“She wants to meet today,” I said.

“Then we stall. I’ll send her office a calendar request for tomorrow. That buys us—what? Eighteen hours to figure out what she knows and how deep this goes.”

“She knows about the obstruction,” I said. “She said it.”

“Then we’re assuming they’ve got eyes in your office,” Alek said. “Or ears. Or both.”

I froze. “You think I’m being surveilled?”

“I told you you were being surveilled. At home, here…who knows where else?”

I stood too fast. “Jesus.”

Alek was already rising, moving around the desk. “Hey,” he said. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“No, you’re panicking. Which, for the record, you’re allowed to do—just not in your glass-walled office while half the bullpen can see you.”

I turned to face the window. My own goddamn reflection stared back at me—drawn, pale, jaw tight. A few people glanced up, but most were distracted by their own work.

Still, Alek was right.

I needed to calm the fuck down.

“Do you…” I paused, looking around. “Do you think they have surveillance in here?”

Alek’s jaw tightened. “I already checked a few days ago…nothing. It’s more likely they tapped your phone and are using eavesdropping employees here in your office. You’re good.”

But I wasn’t good, was I? If they’d tapped my phone, they’d listened as I asked Kieran to make me come.

I was so, so fucked.

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” I said, voice thin. “A big one.”

“I hope it’s a big one,” he said. “Otherwise, how is any of this worth it?”

Despite myself, that made me laugh. “Really? Dick jokes?”

Alek smiled. “Hey, it made you laugh,” he said. “That was all I wanted.”

I tried not to fold in on myself. “I can’t lose her, Alek.”

“You won’t.”

“She’s the only thing I’ve ever gotten right,” I whispered. “If I lose her because I—because I didn’t slam the door fast enough—”

“Ruby.” His voice was firmer now. No teasing. “You didn’t fuck up because you’re weak. You fucked up because you’re human. And they don’t get to weaponize that.”

“They’re the federal government. They can weaponize whatever the fuck they want.”

He didn’t argue. He just grabbed the legal pad from the edge of the desk and dropped it in front of me.

“Start writing. Everything. Dates, texts, where he was, what happened. If there’s any security footage, if you think you were seen. Everything. No omissions.”

I picked up the pen.

“And then?” I asked.

“Then I do what I do best.”

I looked at him.

He grinned, humorless and sharp. “I turn you into an innocent victim of a violent stalker with a decades-long history of threatening public servants.”

“You’re going to spin it?”

“I’m going to tell the story, Ruby. That’s what we do. We tell it first, and we tell it better.”

I swallowed. “What if I can’t?”

“You can.” He met my eyes. “You will. Because you’re a mother, and the world is about to forget that—unless we remind them. We’ll show them who Mickey Russell really was. And as for Kieran Callahan?” He leaned in, quieter now. “He’s just a man. But your daughter? She’s everything.”

I nodded, throat tight.

He took the seat beside me instead of across. Close. Steady.

And I started writing.