Page 21 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Nineteen: Ruby

I hated tinsel.

It didn’t feel like Christmas. Someone in admin had decided we needed "holiday cheer" and now every available surface looked like Santa had thrown up. There was a string of cheap white lights draped across the bullpen’s main desk, and the interns were wearing ugly sweaters with reindeer noses that lit up.

I didn’t feel cheerful at all. I had never hated Christmas, exactly, but ever since I had moved away from my family, it had felt less important. Then I’d had Rosie, and Christmas had begun mattering again. Now it felt…strange. Hollow, almost.

There was another message from Lucy Darnell waiting in my inbox. I hovered over the email so I could see the preview of her message, but didn’t read all of it.

Was hoping to talk to you before the holidays…

Fuck.

I moved my cursor away from the screen and looked at the mountain of emails I had to get through. I had a secretary who took care of my inbox, which was nice, but even she didn’t seem to be able to trim things down nearly as much as I needed her to.

It was easy to get lost in the work, though.

I didn’t want to think about the fact that there was special counsel hovering around, waiting for me to slip up, waiting for something.

I didn’t want to give them an inch. Thankfully, no other agents had shown up, nothing had happened—just a feeling of dread that seemed to be taking over my entire life.

I got up and stretched as I watched Alek approach my office with two mugs of steaming coffee in his hand.

“Morning,” he said, his voice groggy. “You did want a peppermint mocha, right?”

“I will murder you, Ivanov,” I replied.

He handed me my cappuccino, smiling. “You’re cranky before you’ve had coffee.”

“I’m cranky right now, full stop,” I said. “Are you coming in?”

“Yes,” he replied, closing the door behind himself. “What’s the day looking like?”

I took a long sip of my cappuccino, closed my eyes, and exhaled through my nose.

“Two pretrials this morning—both continuances unless the judge is in a mood. After that, a budget meeting with the comptroller’s office to explain why we’ve blown past overtime projections in the gang unit.

Then a working lunch with Morales—homicide wants to shift two detectives to organized crime, and I need to pretend that’s not a red flag.

And at some point before four, I have to prep with Kaitlyn on Fulton’s suppression hearing.

The judge moved it up. Merry fucking Christmas. ”

Alek raised his eyebrows. “I thought my day was bad.”

“Your day is bad. You’re my lawyer.”

He didn’t laugh, taking a sip of his coffee. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

I laughed, though. “Yeah. Twelve days until courts close for break, and I think Darnell is chomping at the bit to make her deadlines look good.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. Do you need me to handle it?”

I shook my head. “If I wasn’t so busy, I would tell you that everything feels like a trap lately.”

He handed me a folder from under his arm. “That’s because it might be. I printed the updated docket and pulled anything with DOJ fingerprints. Look at the names attached to these filings. Three of them are new. None of them are local.”

I flipped through the folder, my stomach tightening as I scanned the header on one of the pleadings. Southern District. Not ours. Not even close.

“They’re already here,” I said, quietly.

“They’ve been here,” Alek corrected. “But now they’re not hiding it.”

I sat down behind my desk, letting the folder hang open in my lap. “I got another email from Darnell this morning.”

He didn’t say anything.

“She said she wants to talk before the holidays.”

“Don’t,” he said immediately. “You don’t owe them shit. They’re baiting you.”

“They’re watching me,” I said. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said. “Which is why we stick to the plan. No private meetings. No unscheduled calls. No surprises.”

“Did you review everything I gave you?”

He nodded. “You have legal defense. I mean, yes, you did…fuck up a bit. But you were afraid for your life. It won’t win over a judge, but you know, a jury would be another story.”

“I don’t want to go to a jury trial, holy shit.”

“You probably won’t,” Alek said. “It’s my job to think of every possibility, right?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I said. “I just…I could be disbarred.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Because you’re the victim of a crime? Are they going to disbar every single public defense lawyer in this county? No, they aren’t.”

“I mean, you’re right…”

He sighed. ““You need to act like the DA, Ruby. Get out in front of this. Make it look like you’re investigating them, not sleeping with them. Control the narrative. Tell people the Callahans are targeting you and mobilize the police.”

“That feels like it could create some surprises. I would rather not do that.”

He moved his head from side-to-side. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” he replied. “Justice moves slow, so there’s that.”

“What does your day look like?” I asked.

He gave me a look. “Less dramatic than yours. Couple of phone consults, an arraignment in Suffolk County, and then I’m getting dinner with a man who thinks we’re still just friends.”

I snorted. “Does he know you’re using him for breadsticks and plausible deniability?”

“I don’t think he’s figured it out yet,” Alek said. “But to be fair, he’s pretty and has no object permanence. So I can ghost him until after Christmas.”

“He sounds wonderful,” I said.

“He’s hot,” Alek replied. “And good in bed. That’s pretty much it. He’s pretty boring. Really, really into cars.”

“Ew. He really into Subarus?”

“Ruby, that’s lesbians,” he said, very seriously.

We both laughed.

“It is gross, though,” he said. “If he stops talking about cars for long enough, I might introduce him to you.”

“Oh, so you really like him.”

He laughed. “I don’t. I really want to like him.”

“That isn’t the same at all.”

“I know. Tell me about it,” he said. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I’ll let you work.”

“Okay. Catch you later. Thank you for the coffee.”

He smiled. “Yeah, of course,” he said.

He stepped out of the office and I watched him go.

The rest of my morning was a blur, email after email, phone call after phone call. I barely looked up until noon, when my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten and my assistant poked her head in to ask if I still wanted to keep my lunch with Morales.

“Yes,” I said automatically. “I’ll head down in a few.”

I grabbed my coat and slung my bag over my shoulder, just as the phone on my desk started to ring again. Not my cell. The landline.

Line two. School.

I froze.

I picked it up, heart already stuttering. “This is DA Marquez.”

“Hi, Ms. Marquez, this is Nurse Feldman calling from Rosie’s school—”

Oh god.

“She’s okay,” the nurse added quickly, soothing and even. “She slipped during recess and bumped her head. No break, no real swelling. Just a scrape and a little bit of a scare. But per policy we ask a parent to come pick her up.”

My grip on the phone tightened. My chest seized. A flash of when she’d fallen came into my head, and I shut my eyes hard, trying to ignore it. “Her head?”

“Yeah,” Nurse Feldman said. “She’s fine. She’s been talking to me about her favorite princesses. I didn’t need to activate EMS or anything, but as you know…”

“Okay, yeah. I’m on my way.”

I hung up and immediately texted Morales to reschedule, then texted Julian—because it was technically his Friday and the school probably had called him too. Sure enough, three seconds later, he wrote back:

Already on my way. Meet you there?

I wrote: Yes.

And then, a beat later: Is she okay?

He replied: I spoke to her. She’s okay. She asked for you.

Of course she did.

I was already halfway down the hall.

The school smelled like hand sanitizer and graham crackers, a scent that made me think of nap time and nursery rhymes to this day. I signed in at the front desk, flashed my badge out of habit, and followed the hallway toward the nurse’s office, my heels clicking like a clock counting down.

Julian was already there when I arrived, more than ready to play the perfect dad at a moment’s notice.

He looked like every parent wants to look when called to school—concerned, composed, just rumpled enough to seem sincere.

He had taken off his coat and folded it over his arm.

Rosie sat on the little cot next to the nurse’s desk, swinging her legs and holding a paper towel to her forehead like it was a war wound.

“Mami!” she said, perking up.

I crouched in front of her immediately. “Hey, baby. Are you okay?”

She nodded solemnly. “I slipped. But Nurse Feldman gave me a Powerpuff Girls bandage, so I’m mostly better now.”

Julian gave me a tight smile over her head. “Scrape and drama. Nothing major.”

“Good,” I said, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “You scared me.”

“She was very brave,” the nurse said. “Just a little surface bump, no signs of concussion, but I still recommend keeping her home the rest of the day.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I was playing with Oliver on the slide and I slipped,” she said. “I fell on the grass.”

“That’s why your face is covered in dirt?” Julian asked.

“Hey! I already washed it!” Rosie said, annoyed.

“Hm, you didn’t do a great job. I can see some under your nose. Can you see it?” I asked, playing along.

Rosie crossed her eyes, trying to look. It made everyone laugh.

“What does your afternoon look like?” Julian asked.

“Crazy. Yours?”

“Also crazy, but I’ll have a junior associate handle it,” he said. “I’m assuming you can’t wiggle out of your DA appointments.”

“Probably some. I have two pretrials hopefully, but nothing else in court, so if you do…”

“No. Not today,” Julian said, smiling at Rosie.

Julian and I exchanged a look—one of those rare, silent negotiations we’d mastered over the last year.

“I can take her,” he said gently. “My two o’clock just moved and I can push the others. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“You sure?” I asked, already half-reaching for Rosie’s backpack.

He nodded. “Yeah. Go save the city or whatever it is you do.”

I smiled despite myself and crouched to zip up Rosie’s coat. “You be good for Daddy, okay?”

“I’m always good,” she said, then paused. “Except when I’m not.”

Julian laughed, and I stood just as Rosie turned to him with a sudden brightness in her voice. “Oh! I thought I saw Key’s car!”

My heart stopped.

Julian blinked. “Key?”

“From brunch,” she said. “He was in the kitchen when I had forgot Carty. You know, the day Mami fell down the stairs and she got that bruise on her neck?”

The nurse eyed us, but didn’t say anything.

“You remember, right, Mami?”

Julian looked at me. “What’s this now?”

“The window guy,” I said, hating myself for it. “He came back.”

“He has a funny name,” Rosie said. “He said it was like a musical key, but I think it’s more like a door key.”

“Can’t wait to meet this famous key-man,” Julian said, wrinkling his nose.

The nurse kept watching us. I didn’t love it.

“It was weeks ago,” I said. “And—he just dropped something off. It wasn’t—” I trailed off.

“Got it,” he said, voice tight.

Rosie tugged on his hand, already ready to go. “Can we get bagels on the way home?”

“Sure, peanut.”

He didn’t look at me again as they walked out the door.

And I didn’t exhale until they were gone.