What He Commits (What He Wants, Book Thirteen) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (5 page)

A vein twitched in Noah’s temple as he
considered letting me get out of the car by myself.
 
“Fine.
 
But you
are to meet me at this car at 11:00 sharp.
 
And you are to text me when you are on your way, and to
answer any texts I send you immediately.
 
Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He leaned over and kissed me on the
lips.
 
He tasted like mint and
smelled like laundry soap and musky cologne.
 
His face was freshly shaven, his skin smooth and gorgeous.

I had to resist the urge to lay my head
against his chest, and instead summoned up my strength and pushed my way out of
the car and into class.

***

I had Worthington’s class first thing,
and was surprised to see him at the front of the classroom.
 
I figured with the evidentiary hearing
that afternoon he would have called in a pinch hitter, a substitute professor
who would ply us with questions and case studies and busy work.

I slid into my seat, glancing over to the
other side of the room where Josh usually sat.
 
His seat was empty and I let out a sigh of relief, thankful
he wasn’t there.
 

But at the same time, a frisson of
anxiety tripped its way up my spine.
 

At least if Josh was in class, I would
know where he was, what he was doing.
 
If he wasn’t here, he could be anywhere, planning anything.

I pulled out my notebook and opened to a
fresh page before becoming dimly aware of the sound of giggling coming from a
couple of rows over.
 
I glanced over
and saw two girls I didn’t know whispering behind their hands.

Their eyes were on me, and I turned away,
my face burning.
 
Law school was a
vicious rumor mill, one I’d been lucky to avoid before now.
 
Obviously the word had gotten out about
me and Noah.

I kept my eyes on my notebook.

A few moments later, Professor
Worthington started class and I glanced back over at Josh’s seat.
 
Still empty.

“Good luck today,” Professor Worthington
was saying.
 
“If you don’t know the
answer to a question, do your best.
 
Your essays will be given partial credit.”

He began passing out papers, and my
classmates began clearing their desks and pulling out their pens.

Was there a test today?

Was it a pop quiz?

My heart began to beat loudly in my
ears.
 
I’d let the reading for this
class slip a tiny bit, figuring I would have time to make it up before there
was a test.

I fumbled through my notebook for my
syllabus.
 
I scanned down the
paper, and there it was, right next to today’s date.
 
A test.

I did my best, but I knew it was bad.

I guessed at about a quarter of the
multiple choice questions, and bullshitted my way through the essays.
 
I was one of the last people to hand
their papers in, and as I handed my paper to Professor Worthington, I couldn’t
look him in the eye.

I knew I’d failed, or at least gotten a
D.

I ran out of the room and into the
hallway, pushing my back up against the wall.
 
I felt like I was having a panic attack again, the way I had
in Noah’s hotel room that day.

 
It was as if a rubber band had been placed around my lungs,
like it was squeezing me harder and harder until I was short of breath.

I put my head between my legs and tried
to keep myself from fainting.
 
Relax
, I told myself.
 
Just
relax.
 
It’s only a test.

A moment later, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Noah,
I thought in relief.

But it wasn’t Noah.

It was Professor Worthington, looking
down at me with a concerned expression on his face.

“Charlotte,” he asked.
 
“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said.
 
“Yes, I’m fine.”
 
I straightened up and tried to focus as the blood rushed from my head
back to my body.

“Are you sure?”
 
He was frowning, like he didn’t believe me.

“I just…I think I’ve just been a little
overwhelmed.”
 
I wasn’t sure why I
said that.
 
Something about the way
he was looking at me made me feel like I had to say something, that me just
insisting everything was okay wasn’t going to be enough for him.
 
Maybe a part of me wanted him to tell
me everything was going to be okay.
 
But instead of comforting me, his tone turned dark.

“Charlotte,” he said.
 
“You need to get it together.
 
In a couple of hours, you are going to
be one of the most important witnesses in an evidentiary hearing in which the
stakes could not be higher.”

“I know,” I said.
 

“Do you?”
  
he asked.
 
“Do you really?”
 
His voice
was raised, and group of girls walking down the hall glanced at us
curiously.
 
It wasn’t unusual to
see a student have a meltdown, but it was unusual for her to be doing it in
front of her professor.
 

“Charlotte,” Professor Worthington said
and moved closer to me.
 
“Get
yourself together.
 
This is
nothing.
 
I have been working
nonstop on this case, keeping my practice running, going through a divorce, and
still teaching my classes.
 
You
have no idea what pressure is.
 
Now
figure it out.”

He turned around and walked back into the
classroom, the heavy oak door shutting behind him.

My knees felt weak, and my first instinct
was to collapse into one of the chairs by the window, or to run to Noah.

But then I realized Professor Worthington
was right.

When had I become so weak?
 
When had I become the kind of girl who
forgot about tests and worried about what her classmates thought of her?
 
I’d earned my place in this
school.
 
I’d always been a hard
worker, a fighter, the kind of person who didn’t give up.

Was it Noah? I wondered.
 
Had he made me weak?

No, I decided.
 
It wasn’t Noah.
 
There was nothing weak about giving yourself to another person, to
letting your walls down so much that you gave your trust without expecting
anything in return.
 
That was one
of the strongest, hardest things you could do.

No, if anything, Noah made me
stronger.
 
Fighting for someone you
loved was one of the most difficult things you could do.

I was strong.

I was going to get through this.

I was going to get Noah out of this
mess.
 

I would go to the evidentiary
hearing.
 
I would kick ass.
 
I would show the prosecutors I was
anything but weak.

And then I would lure Josh out.
 
I’d get him to make a mistake.
 
And I’d prove once and for all that he
was the one who killed Katie.

***

When I met back up with Noah, I showed no
sign that I’d been having a meltdown.

We made a pit stop back at his apartment,
where I changed into a dark skirt, heels, and dark jacket.
 
I pulled my hair back into a low bun
and slid a pair of simple gold hoops through my ears.

The ride to the courthouse was silent,
the air between us heavy with tension.

I knew this was a big deal, and Noah did
too.

And yet we didn’t talk.
 

Surprisingly, the silence was almost
comforting.
 
There was nothing to
say, and talking would have done nothing but make me more nervous, jumbling my
head into a tangle.
 
The quiet
allowed me to get my thoughts together, to collect myself, to get into a
zone.
 
I felt like a soldier going
off to battle.
 
I had weapons on my
side – my smarts, my strength, my love for Noah and his love for me, the
fact that I had some knowledge of the law, which would make me more able to
recognize when the prosecution was trying to trip me up.

We parked the car and walked toward the
courthouse.

I felt strong.

I felt like it was me and Noah against
the world.
  
He reached for my
hand, and I held it tight.
 
There
was a throng of reporters outside of the courthouse, and they snapped pictures
of us.

I didn’t care.

I wasn’t even thinking about it.

I was laser focused.

We walked through the metal detectors and
into the courtroom.

Professor Worthington was already
there.
 
Clementine sat next to him,
her head bent over a document, looking chic in a navy pantsuit and cream
blouse.

But there was no one sitting at the
prosecution’s table.
 
Which was
strange.
 
I thought for sure they
would be here already.
 
I turned to
Noah, to ask him if perhaps it was part of their strategy, if maybe they were
going to let us sit here by ourselves and then come in at the last minute,
right before the judge took the bench, maybe as a kind of power move.

But before I could ask him, his eyes
darkened, his face clouding with anger.

“Noah,” I asked.
 
“What is it?
 
What’s wrong?”

“Charlotte,” he said, putting his hands
on my shoulders. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.
 
Go back to my apartment.
 
Lock the doors.
 
And wait for me there.”
 
He reached into his pocket and pulled
out his keys, pressed them into my palm.

“What?” I asked, confused.
 
“Why would I –”

“Excuse me, miss,” a voice behind me
said.
 
“I’m going to have to ask
you to move out of the way.”

I turned to see a uniformed office
standing there.
 
Two other officers
stood behind him, their hands on their hips, waiting to get involved if
necessary.

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

“Charlotte,” Noah said. “It’s okay.”
 
He moved me gently to the side and the
officer pulled out his handcuffs.

“Noah Cutler,” he said.
 
“You are under arrest for second degree
assault on Joshua Briggs.
 
You have
the right to remain silent…”

I gasped in horror, my hand flying to my
mouth as they read Noah the rest of his rights and pulled him away, leading him
out of the courtroom and down the hall.

Professor Worthington appeared next to
me.
  
“What the
hell
is going on?” I demanded, turning
toward him.
 
“What the hell just
happened?”

“Charlotte,” he said, his voice
even.
 
“Please calm down.”

“I won’t calm down!” I said.
 
“Noah was just arrested.”
 
I pointed toward the courtroom door, as
if that would get him to understand.
 

“Yes, for assault on Josh.”
 
He looked at me.
 
“Do you know anything about this?”

I wanted to scream.
 
I wanted to freak out and scream and
cry and hit something.
 
But if I
didn’t stay calm, Professor Worthington wouldn’t let me be a part of whatever
it was that was going on.
 
I wasn’t
Noah’s lawyer.
 
I needed Professor
Worthington on my side.

“Yes,” I said, struggling to keep any
trace of stress or emotion out of my voice.
 
“He got into a fight with Josh last night.”

“Where?”

“At a BDSM club.
 
At Force.”

He nodded, immediately slipping into
lawyer mode.
 
“Clementine,” he
barked.
 
“Get a copy of the police
report and email it to me.
 
Then go
back to the office and file a motion for a new evidentiary hearing.”

She nodded and then scurried off.

“Those assholes in the DA’s office must
have planned this,” Professor Worthington said.
 
He was back at the table, picking up his papers and placing
them carefully into his briefcase.
 
“They must have known Noah was going to be arrested, which is why they
didn’t fight me when I moved up the hearing.
 
Now Noah won’t be here for his own hearing, and a judge is
not going to look favorably on that.”