Chapter One
A.D.A. Connie Rubirosa had an appointment with a defense attorney representing a man she was prosecuting for attempted murder, the receptionist, after a brief glance at her appointment slip, directed her to an office twice the size of hers.
Connie raised an eyebrow as she followed the assistant's directions. The door she stopped in front of read, "Michelle Benson; Managing Partner," which only added to the confusion. Why was the Managing partner representing the defendant?
She opened the door and stepped inside, immediately spotting a young woman buried under a mountain of paperwork. The woman's dark curly hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She was so absorbed in the file in front of her that she didn't even acknowledge Connie's presence.
"Excuse me," Connie began, her voice firm. "I'm A.D.A. Connie Rubirosa. I have an appointment with the defense attorney representing Charles Kramer for the deal bargain."
Without even looking up from the stack of papers, the young woman responded in a bored tone, "My client is not making any deal." Her casual disregard for Connie's status immediately grated on the A.D.A.'s nerves.
Connie's lips pressed into a thin line, irritation creeping into her voice. "Then why set a meeting? Couldn't you have told me that on the phone?"
The woman didn't seem to register the shift in Connie's tone, but she did feel a subtle change in the air. The young woman paused mid-sentence, finally looking up—directly at Connie.
The moment their eyes met, the woman's expression changed. Her lips twitched upwards into a small, mischievous grin, as if she'd been waiting for this moment. The exchange lingered for a brief second before she casually dropped the file on her desk and turned away.
"Be right with you," the woman said, completely ignoring Connie now as she called out to her assistant, who was waiting in the hallway.
Connie stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. The sudden shift in the woman's demeanor was hard to ignore.
The assistant entered the office, nodding toward Connie. "I'm sorry Ms. Rubirosa, please follow me. Mr. Langan will be handling the case from here on out."
As she turned to follow the assistant out of the office, Connie couldn't help but glance over her shoulder. The young woman was now leaning back in her chair, still smiling like she knew exactly what had just happened.
Who the hell was that?
It had been a week, it's morning, as she stood in line at her usual coffee cart, her mind was preoccupied with the case at hand. She barely noticed the figure behind her until a voice, all too familiar, cut through the hum of the morning bustle.
"Morning, Ms. Rubirosa."
Connie froze, her heart skipping a beat before she turned around, already knowing who it was from the voice.
"Here," Michelle said, offering one cup to Connie, her eyes bright with an odd confidence. "Care to share a cup?"
"No thanks," Connie replied curtly, shaking her head and turning back to face the counter.
Michelle didn't seem put off by the rejection. Instead, she stood her ground and, to Connie's surprise, introduced herself with a smile. "I don't think we properly met last week. I'm Michelle."
Connie didn't respond right away. She felt the annoyance creeping up again—the same irritation she had felt when Michelle had been so dismissive of her presence at the firm. But this time, she didn't feel like engaging. Instead, she simply placed her order at the counter, her back turned to Michelle.
"I didn't want a miss trial or to ruin your reputation," Michelle continued, her voice warmer now, and unbothered by Connie's silence. "I was first chair on the Kramer case, but when I saw you walk into my office, I knew I had to remove myself from it."
Connie turned slightly, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"
Michelle gave a small, almost apologetic shrug, her eyes meeting Connie's with an unexpected honesty. "I can't ask you out on a date if we're facing off in court, it's unethical."
Connie stiffened, her mouth tightening in irritation. This was getting absurd.
"Excuse me?" Connie snapped, the frustration evident in her tone.
Michelle didn't seem fazed by Connie's reaction. "I didn't think it was appropriate, given the situation. But now, with Trevor taking over the case, I figured I might finally get the chance to ask you."
Connie stared at Michelle, her eyes narrowing. This was ridiculous.
"Look," Connie said, cutting Michelle off, "I don't care about your reasons, or whatever game you think you're playing. I'm not interested."
"I get it," Michelle said, her voice light, but there was something else there—something more daring. "Most people would back down after being shut down. But something tells me you're not like most people, Connie. I think that's what makes you... interesting."
Connie was taken aback by Michelle's response. It was bold—too bold. And it only made her more frustrated.
"Trust me," Connie replied, her voice cold, "you don't know me."
Michelle's grin returned, this time with an almost teasing edge. "Maybe. But I plan to find out."
As Connie walked to the counter to grab her coffee, she couldn't help but feel the lingering weight of Michelle's gaze. "Don't bother me again."
It had been a few days, notes had arrived at the D.A.'s office — handwritten, sweet, and persistent — each one a little more personal than the last. And then, as if to add fuel to the fire, an evening dress had shown up at her desk.
Connie had ignored them all, opting to toss the notes straight into the trash and leave the dress untouched in her office. She had no interest in indulging Michelle, no interest in whatever games the young defense attorney was playing.
Tonight, as Connie was preparing to leave the office late it was nearly 10:30 p.m. when she stepped out of the building, the cold night air nipping at her skin. Connie scanned the street for a taxi, but no taxis were stopping. She checked her watch, and the last thing she needed was to walk home alone at this hour.
That's when she saw the sleek black car pull up, a familiar face behind the wheel.
Connie froze for a moment, heart pounding in her chest. Michelle came to a smooth stop right in front of her. With a small wave, Michelle rolled down the passenger window.
"Need a ride?" Michelle asked, her voice easy and playful, as if they were old friends.
Connie hesitated, instinctively stepping back. But as she glanced around, she realized there was no taxi in sight, her apartment was a long walk away.
"Come on," Michelle continued, as if reading Connie's mind. "I can take you home. Or anywhere you need to go."
Michelle got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door for Connie.
Connie's instincts screamed for her to walk away, but practicality won out. She was tired, and it was late. With a reluctant sigh, she stepped toward the car. "Fine," she muttered under her breath. "But don't think this means anything."
"I'm not going to bite," Michelle said with a smile, standing back to let Connie get in.
Connie glanced at Michelle, her gaze hard, but Michelle only smiled in return. Connie climbed into the car.
The drive was quiet at first, with only the soft hum of the engine breaking the silence. Connie gave her directions, her tone clipped and businesslike. She was doing everything she could to ignore the young woman beside her, her posture stiff in the passenger seat.
Michelle, however, didn't seem to mind. She was the one doing most of the talking.
"I swear I am not stalking you, my place is in the direction," Michelle began, glancing over at Connie with a casual smile. "I saw you so I made a u-turn. You could say it's fate."
Connie gave her a sidelong glance, not interested in playing this game anymore. "You're not giving up, are you?"
Michelle laughed softly. "Not really my style."
Connie didn't respond, keeping her gaze out the window as the city blurred by.
The car pulled up in front of Connie's apartment building, and the engine idled once again.
Connie was ready to get out, to escape from Michelle's presence, but as she started to open the door, Michelle spoke again.
"Connie, wait."
She paused, half-turned to face the other woman, her fingers still on the handle. "What?"
Michelle hesitated, her smile fading into something a little more serious. "I know this is kind of... unconventional, but just one date. If it doesn't go well, I promise I'll stop. I'll stop pursuing you."
Connie stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to do this.
"And you think you can change my mind just like that?" Connie's voice was skeptical, but Michelle met her eyes without flinching.
"I think you've judged me based on one thing," Michelle continued, her voice more vulnerable now. "I'm not looking for a fling. I just... I'm attracted to you. And I think you're more than what you show on the outside."
The silence between them was thick, charged with something that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Finally, Connie exhaled sharply and shook her head, feeling more conflicted than she'd ever been in her life.
"I don't know," Connie said, her voice quieter this time, a little more uncertain. "I've got a lot going on."
Michelle's eyes softened, her smile returning, not smug, but sincere. "I get it. I just want the chance to show you I'm not what you think I am. Please. Let me take you out."
Connie looked away, heart pounding in her chest. She could walk away, just close the door and let Michelle go, but something about the look in Michelle's eyes, something about the challenge she presented, made Connie hesitate.
After a long pause, Connie took a deep breath. "One date," she said, almost to herself. "But that's it."
Michelle's face lit up, and before Connie could second-guess herself.
"One date," Michelle echoed, her voice full of promise. "I won't let you regret it."
Connie wasn't sure what she'd just gotten herself into, but as Michelle started the car and drove away from the curb.
Thank you, Hope you enjoyed it.
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