Chapter 9: 7| Loser

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Loser ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 7: Loser (Amara's POV) This was quite possibly the first time in my life that I regretted going up against Tristan Harper. Not only did I run out of time to prepare a solid defense but as it turned out, Mrs. Benoit wasn't exactly a saint because not only did she rob her own husband, but she also threatened to kill him and she just happened to forget about it and kept it a secret. As her attorney, I understood her motives, I understood why she hated her selfish, cheating bastard of a husband. Her words, not mine. But in the eyes of the law, this woman could only be painted guilty. I may have been an attorney but I knew better than to believe that the law could serve justice the way it should be served. The law was a business of its own with attorneys like Tristan and I defending people like Mr. and Mrs. Benoit… and sometimes other criminals… simply to make money. In a world of crime like ours, morality would get you killed and it came down to survival of the fittest. When you're surviving, you do whatever the fuck it takes. As the mediator for the meeting rose out of his seat, I let out a soft breath and leaned back, staring at the papers in front of me. The divorce papers left my client with absolutely nothing. My gaze lifted up to Mr. Benoit as he strolled out alongside the mediator, striking up a conversation, and making a new friend who would soon become a new ally. I turned to my client as she stood from her seat. "Mrs. Benoit-" I began in a rush, only for her to cut me off. "It's all right, Amara. I walked in here knowing you were my best shot," she replied with a soft smile, "at least I got rid of that bastard. I'll make sure you receive your paycheck by this evening," she added before grabbing her purse and leaving. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply only for Tristan to interrupt all the inner peace that kept me from murdering him in this very room. He watched me in pure amusement as he sat across from me with the files and paperwork still scattered between us. "Go ahead, Mr. Harper," I said, folding my arms across my chest, "I'm sure you're dying to rub salt in the wound. By all means, don't let me stop you." Leaning back in his seat, he held my gaze. "As fun as it is to be so cruel to you, it's no fun to kick someone when they're down, Ms. Milano." "That's rich coming from you." His amusement only grew the more riled up I got and I knew that better than anything yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep myself under control around him. He learned every possible way there was to make me unravel. "It truly is a pleasure to compete with you," he said before cheekily adding, "and win." "You know how much you piss me off, don't you? Is it always necessary to instigate me?" I questioned, my eyes narrowing at him. He paused for a while, staring at me. "Was it necessary to leave the way you did?" I went utterly still in my seat, unable to look away from him, unable to respond, unable to even react. In the three years that passed since I fought his case, not once did he question me on my disappearance. I truly believed he never wondered because he didn't care. "I did my job," I finally answered, "I did what I was hired to do and as your attorney, I did everything I could for you. It worked, didn't it? If anything, you should have at least thanked me for saving you from spending the rest of your life in prison. I did my job, Mr. Harper. What I did or where I went after that was not and still is none of your business." "An attorney's job doesn't end in the courtroom with the hearing of a trial, Ms. Milano. I'm sure you know that just as well now as you did then." I realized almost immediately after I left that Tristan truly had no idea why I left or that his enemies were coming after me. At that moment, I thought he was better off not knowing and I still stood by my decision to keep it a secret. I walked away from Tristan's case hoping he would recognize that I was a worthy opponent but as his attorney, it worried me, the kind of people he dealt with. Despite that, who came after me made no difference to him, even when it concerned his rivals and even if it was simply because I chose to defend him. Telling Tristan wouldn't do me any good and I knew damn well that he wouldn't come to rescue me so I did whatever I could to save myself at the time. I knew it then and I knew it now; Tristan hated me for leaving him without answers, and understandably so, I would too. But I didn't owe him any explanation. Tristan and I were sworn enemies before that and me being his attorney once didn't change that, nor did I expect it to. Tristan didn't hate me any less for saving him and I didn't expect him to either. "It wouldn't have made a difference," I replied, gathering my papers and tucking them back into the file, too bothered by the heat of his gaze to sit and organize them in the correct order. His eyes never tore away from me, even for a second. It felt like he saw right through me. "You already hated me, didn't you?" I continued, "take that as one more reason to. I'm certain you didn't despise me any less for saving you, Mr. Harper. I was your last option, not the first. You barely considered me worthy and you didn't even trust me to defend you." "Excuse me for not trusting my nemesis with my court case," he replied dryly, twirling his pen between his fingers before he lightly scratched his temple with the back of it, "frankly, you gave me no reason to trust you." Only because he never let me. But explaining all that to Tristan was useless because I would never be able to get through to him. Our hatred and animosity were so deeply embedded into both of us that any other feelings towards each other would be alien. I used to think about it often, years ago. I would wonder where it all went wrong, where the friendship turned into enmity, where that trust got lost in translation and morphed into secrecy and distance. My relationship with Tristan began to feel treacherous long before he left for college and returned to Moscow, completely cutting me off. When he returned as a well-established attorney seven years later, we were both grown up. He wasn't the same eighteen-year-old kid he was when he left, he was a twenty-five-year-old man with new morals, new intentions, and new rules. I wasn't the thirteen-year-old girl he left behind, I was making my own way, working my ass off to become the attorney I was today. But the distance between us wasn't just the five thousand miles and oceans separating us. We lost our friendship far before that when Tristan began withdrawing from me and I did nothing to stop him, despite being friends with him for around seven years prior. Our timeline and history were a confusing blur, leaving me wondering where things went wrong, so I chose to bury that past and leave it behind. As far as I was concerned, Tristan was a rival from the moment he returned to New York. We were strangers again and I almost preferred it that way. He may have been the most dangerous kind of enemy, but better an enemy than anything else. Taking my purse, I rose to my feet. "You wanted me to fight your case, Mr. Harper. If I wanted it badly enough, I would have given you a reason to trust me. Why would I want to defend someone who has it out for me and doesn't consider me a worthy opponent?" I asked. "If you truly ever believed I don't consider you a worthy opponent, you're living in a world of misconceptions, Malyshka," he responded, "but all this is rather rich coming from you." I almost blinked in confusion but masked it. He almost had me in disbelief. A tiny chuckle escaped me. "Is that why you think I avoid you? Because I think competing with you is below me?" I questioned, bracing my hands on the table. If only he knew how much his ambition influenced me when we were younger to even dream of being a lawyer… "I think you avoid me because you don't like to lose, Ms. Milano," he smirked, ending the conversation indirectly by shifting the subject. Tristan didn't like honesty when he was hearing something he didn't like. It angered him to lose control over things and I was something he never managed to gain control over in the first place. He despised me for it. I watched him carefully as he stood up, buttoning his jacket. "Judging by your reaction today, losing has really pissed you off," he added, finally doing what he did best whenever he won. He was rubbing salt in the wound. "Don't be such a sore loser, Solnyshko. You look just as lethal today as you would after every win," he smirked, his gaze running over my body leisurely before he looked me in the eye. If I was a sore loser then Tristan was… I realized that he wanted a rise out of me and I wouldn't give in, so I stayed quiet, tracking his movements as he gathered his belongings. "I must admit, I've missed competing with you," he said as he slowly headed for the door, "I'd give just about anything to watch you lose, Ms. Milano. I'll see you next time." With one last glance at me, he walked out of the room. I let out a loud huff in annoyance, throwing my file onto the table. God, I hate him. It was about time I showed him just how much. . . . . . Chapter 7