1| Win

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Win ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ : Win (Amara's POV) "Pret? Allez!" Mr. Eliot announced. "Last round, Amara," she sighed, "I can't let you win." "Let me?" I chuckled, stepping forward as I adjusted my grip on the épée sword in my right hand. "When have you ever let me win, Aurora? I simply do." "You're one cocky bitch." "Thank you," I smiled behind the mask before lunging forward, my sword clashing with hers as I knocked it aside and pinned the point of my sword into her torso. She huffed lightly in frustration as we both retreated. "How much is that for me, Mr. Eliot?" I asked, turning to him. The smile on his face betrayed his neutral stance. "Pret? Allez!" he announced again and we resumed our final round of fencing until the timer for the last round went off. "Halt!" Mr. Eliot exclaimed, "I'm sorry my dear," he chuckled, glancing at Aurora, "Amara wins." I caught my breath as I ripped my mask off and shook my hair out with a grin. "What were you saying about not letting me win this time?" I asked with a tilt of my head. Groaning loudly, Aurora took her mask off and tossed it on the mat. "Only you can ever beat me," she said, pointing the tip of the sword at me. "I beat everybody I've ever played with. Don't take it personally," I panted lightly as I dropped the sword and unstrapped my glove, tugging it off with my teeth and then tossing that on the bench before I had a drink of water. Sitting down, I couldn't help but laugh at the frown on her face. "Come on," I said, patting the spot beside mine, "nobody wins or loses among best friends." "Until they lose," she muttered as she plopped beside me and took my water bottle. "What are you doing tonight? I hope you're not going back to the office after this." "No, I'll work from home later tonight." "Amara, seriously? You work like a maniac once you get your hands on a case." "This case is big. I'm meeting the defendant tomorrow with their attorney. I can't afford to slack off on it. Not until tomorrow." Her gaze followed me as I rose to my feet. "No, you just work yourself to the brink of frustration, call me for a fencing match, and then take it out on me," she said pointedly. I chuckled as I picked up my sword and spun around, pointing it at her. "You up for another round?" "Absolutely not." She stood up and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm going home. It's already six, no point in going back to work. Lunch? Tomorrow?" "If you're paying." Narrowing her eyes at me, she stalked forward. "Since I lost, I'll take that graciously. I need a shower after this. Are you staying back?" I turned my attention to Mr. Eliot and changed the direction of my épée until it pointed at him. "Are you up for a round, Mr. Eliot?" "I haven't played in years, my dear," he replied, his French accent as pronounced as ever. "Not since I taught you." "I should find a worthy opponent," I muttered. He chuckled, "Go rest now, Amara dear. I'll see you in a few days." "Tomorrow?" I called out after them, "maybe?" Without a response, he walked out, closing the door behind him. A tiny smile took over my face as I began packing up my things but the sound of the door opening once again caught my attention. My movements slowed before coming to a halt altogether when I recognized who it was, the moment my eyes met his. "Ms. Milano," he greeted, strolling in as if he owned the place. Which he didn't. He doesn't. In fact, I do, goddamn it. "Mr. Harper," I mocked, dropping my bag on the bench and turning to face him completely. "What are you doing here?" "Can't I visit?" "You're not a member, hence, no." "I'm not a member because you won't let me be." "Judas isn't a gentleman's club. You have Rhys and The Veil for that." He came to a stop right in front of me and that smug smile came to light. "Of course, Judas is a Breakfast at Tiffany's Club, isn't it?" I resisted an eye roll and took a breath to calm myself down. It wasn't restricted to women or men alone. It was simply a training club for various sports and a lounge for anybody who wanted to wind down at the end of the day. "Why are you here?" I questioned. "I haven't seen you in a year." Last year was the last time I spoke to Tristan and it was only for the sake of a friend who needed our help. If I had it my way, Tristan would never have been in my sight. It was safe to say that we didn't get along. At all. I despised him and he hated me equally. "Miss me?" he asked, lifting a brow, and maintaining his usual blank expression. "Of course, I've just been dying without you, haven't I?" I asked sarcastically, my gaze tracking his movements as he tossed his blazer on the bench, revealing the crisp black button-up and the matching black pants. Spinning on his heels, he walked to the corner and picked up a spare épée sword. Rolling my eyes, I folded my arms across my chest and watched as he walked back over. "Care for a round?" "I'm done for the day." Ignoring him, I continued packing the rest of my things. I made a mental note to remind the guards not to let Tristan Harper inside ever again. "I'm not," he retorted, "I won't be done until I see you tomorrow with my client. And win." I let out a low breath and rolled my tongue along the inside of my cheek before facing him. "What?" "Your client?" he prompted, moving onto the mat, "Mr. Banks, isn't it? The plaintiff. Suing my client for… what was it again?" For fuck's sake. "Assault and battery," he said, his gaze meeting mine. "Let's talk over a match. Maybe if you win in fencing, you won't be so bitter about your loss tomorrow." Arrogant prick. Challenge accepted. I picked up my sword and moved back onto the mat. "And how bitter would you be to lose in both?" I asked, lifting a brow at him. "Extremely," he answered, "pret?" "Allez," I announced before taking a sharp step forward, blocking his sword with my own before the tip made contact with me. As the blade slid across my own, I stepped back until there was enough distance for me to knock his sword away. "Tell your client to drop the charges," he demanded. "Tell your client to pay for the settlement and I will," I reasoned. "Need I mention," he paused as my grip loosened on my sword, giving him the perfect opportunity to score, the tip of his sword touching me right in the chest. "Your settlement demand is ridiculous," he finished, stepping back. "Pret?" "Allez," I huffed. "A million dollars for a little brawl?" he scoffed. "A little brawl, my ass. My client is still black and bruised. And I should remind you, Mr. Harper, your client made the first blow," I said, moving back and dodging his attack. "This isn't a matter of who started it first," he argued. "It sure is," I retorted, "and the person at fault here was your client. Let's not forget, someone died that night at the hands of your client." The clash of my sword against his was loud as I knocked his aside and pinned the tip of my épée to his chest. "So meet the settlement demand and I'll spare your client. Pret?" He paused and held my gaze for a beat, a twinkle of amusement glimmering in them. "Allez," he smirked before charging forward. "It's always been a bad habit of yours," I scoffed, "you bring court cases out of the courtroom." "In a business like ours, Malyshka, no cases end in the courtroom." I blocked his sword as we both stepped forward, our blades crossing between us. "They all extend to murders and bloodshed," he added. "I fail to see how that should deter me. I'm not dropping the charges." I swiftly moved the tip of my blade to his chin, tipping it up. "Your three minutes are over. I win." His eyes followed me as I unzipped my fencing suit and slipped out of it, folding it up and tucking it into my bag with the rest of my belongings. Gathering my things, I turned to him one last time. "What happened last year was an exception. I worked with you for the sake of Rhys and Stella. Don't make a habit of it." "One year of distance wasn't enough for you, Ms. Milano?" He lifted his sword up, bringing the tip under my chin the way I had previously done to him. I knocked it out of the way and met his eyes. "No amount of distance between us could ever be enough, Mr. Harper. We've always met as rivals in the courtroom and we'll continue to do so. You have no business showing up to my club." "I'll show up as many times as it takes for you to see that you'll never win against me, Amara." I bit back a chuckle and took a step closer to him. "Then be prepared to lose every time you show up, Tristan." Before he could say anything else, I claimed the last word as mine and walked past him, my shoulder bumping against his arm as I did. Without glancing back at him, I walked out the doors and then out of the club, getting in my car and driving straight out. With a faint sigh, my attention shifted to the screen on my dashboard as it showed an incoming call from my father. "Dad," I greeted. "Amara, dove sei stata, cara mia? I haven't seen you in weeks!" "Scusa, sono stato un po' impegnato con il lavoro," I replied, explaining that I'd been busy with work. "You come see me for dinner tonight…" he paused awkwardly before adding with a huff, "young lady." I couldn't help but snort and let out a laugh, "Yes, Dad. I'll see you tonight for dinner." "Davvero?" he asked in surprise. "Are you that shocked?" "Almost," he answered, "truthfully though…" I could sense the reluctance and imagine the frown on his face perfectly. "I've missed you. Come see me tonight, no arguments. Ti voglio bene," he said feigning anger. With one last dramatic huff, he hung up on me. Keeping my eyes on the road, I laughed softly as I shook my head to myself. That was my father for anybody who asked, an adorably dramatic man in a world of crime and corruption. . . . . . Chapter 1