The Laws of Love

Chapter 10

Veronica Duval, Nick to him and him alone, was his sidekick. Nothing more.

“It would take twenty women like Yuri to distract me from my goals, and even then they wouldn't succeed.

“So Miss Japan has a name... Don't worry, friend, if I understand your situation. It must be annoying waiting so long for this moment to now be more interested in his face than destroying Campbell.

It has nothing to do with physical issues. It's as simple as she's better than me. I have researched it and already came with that in mind. He has only lost one trial and it was because the client withheld vital information. It is indestructible in the civil sphere and I have never touched a divorce. I can recognize a failure when I smell what is to come if I don't take action on the matter.

"Then you have to get her out of the way." And how do you plan to do it? "Finding a weak spot, an open wound to stick your finger into." I doubt she'll drop the case by herself. She's not stupid. You will know that if you win it, you will climb positions.

"And do you have any ideas about weak points?"

"None, although... Well, I have a slight suspicion," he commented, narrowing his eyes. I'll have to investigate. And you too. We have two possibilities: cause him to have an inconvenience and have to transfer the case to one of the other murdered men in his firm, or make him despise me enough to not bear to see me and change it for his mental health.

“He likes you? Nick asked.

Marc looked away from his secretary and back to Yuri, who was waiting for the elevator, looking around curiously. In that silent assessment of her surroundings, she caught him looking at her. He didn't pretend he wasn't noticing, getting the result he wanted. She blushed softly, a natural reaction that she found extraordinarily pretty.

Thank God Nick couldn't read minds. still . He imagined her peppering him for having romantic thoughts.

“Can be. But once she gets to know me a little better, she'll decide she's not innocent enough to stay hooked. I don't think the trick of sleeping with her will work. I repeat that it is not stupid.

"I don't think it's made of stone, either." Being able to fuck with you will not care about anything, I'll play anything.

Marc looked at her with a hint of a smile.

"You speak from experience?"

She turned to him flirtatiously.

"Of course, blonde. You know that I die for your bones.

Marc drummed his fingers on the table.

"She might end up going to bed with me, but her reaction wouldn't be to run away, I'm sure." Quite the opposite. It would give him reasons to face me with more desire and destroy me. And I can't afford it. Not from you.

“What difference does it make? You'd know Campbell's dirty laundry by then. She would have told you after the orgasm.

"But he'd know I know because he'd remember, so he'd change tack and get caught." Don't let her sweet eyes fool you, Nick. The pretty ones are the worst.

"Are you telling me, or are you telling me?"

Marc half laughed, as always.

"I highly doubt she would tell me of her plans, even if I managed to bring her to my feet."

"You don't lose anything by trying," she commented, returning to the hard work of improving her unbeatable nails. Or have you suddenly regained consciousness?

Marc followed Yuri with his eyes until the elevator swallowed her. She had no problem remaining glued to his eyes from a distance, waiting with a calmness he could never experience alone, for the doors to close. At the last moment, she said goodbye to him in a very original way: smiling a little, shyly, as if accepting that she was nervous. Also saying something along the lines of: "It doesn't matter that we started off on the wrong foot, I'm willing to get along." A gesture of humanity that he should not have had, because he did not want to show mercy.

Marc held his breath, his eyes fixed on her lips, and waited until he was out of sight before exhaling. Only then did she clear her throat and suppress a small sigh.

“I will think about it.

"You'll have to do a lot more than think about it." It's Campbell, Marc. You've been telling me for years that this is all you want. Now that you have it, don't let anything or anyone take it away from you.

"Don't worry," he resolved instantly. I can assure you that I will do anything to win. Any.

Marc didn't understand the concept of "fixing," perhaps because of the negative implications it carried. It implied that before it was made it was useless, worn out, or useless: that it needed to use some external force or add charms, band”aids, or decorate itself, to make it better. To stop being disgusting; Like a broken down car or bathroom plumbing.

To get ready , he thought, he would need a lot more than his best tie and a designer jacket. He knew well that his appearance was not what needed to be enhanced. The false humility touched his balls too much not to admit that he was a well”planted guy. At least the packaging sparkled. What was underneath maybe should... be fixed . But for now, and if plan A worked out, Yuri Sandoval wouldn't need to know how low he was. He had in mind to find out if his physique interested him enough to take the bait, and for that, thank heavens, he didn't have to fix anything really screwed up.

Marc left home with the reflection formulating behind the normal thoughts of a guy at half past six in the morning, those that he could face in the short term. He went over his schedule, the commitments scheduled for the day, the meetings, even the busy breaks to catch up on work. So I couldn't stop to meditate for a second. The usual routine followed. Activating the alarm in the apartment, counting the floors he was going down in the elevator, measuring the distance between his steps to the entrance and saying "good morning" to his driver, who was waiting with the patience of a saint.

"How are you Yasin?" he asked before opening the rear door.

The man smiled as if he were keeping a secret, and as soon as Marc put his behind on someone else's calves, he understood how excited the Indian was to get into the car.

The bulge under him growled under his breath. Jeans, military boots and a hooded sweatshirt... He recognized him thanks to the Latin exclamation “"ay, dio Natsumi "“. Just in case he had any doubts, his brother turned around like a sardine and faced him with sleepy eyes.

Marc tried not to get irritated by her depressing appearance.

"Yasin," she called to her driver, trying to remain calm, "what is Mr. Ambani doing in the car?"

"I don't know, boss," he said, with his usual thick accent. He gave her an amused glance in the rearview mirror. I just noticed when parking. I don't usually make sure there are no men camouflaged with the upholstery when starting.

He looked at the hooded man, who was rubbing his eyelids trying to show pity.

"Jesse... did you sleep in the Mercedes?"

“I don't have my own house, what do you want me to do? he complained as he sat up. Tori asked me to leave and couldn't think of another place to rest my bones.

“Let's see... There are hotels; motels, if you don't want to spend a lot. Wentworth's house, mine, your mother's in Puerto Rico... And you choose my car. Marc made a face. Is that Jägermeister I smell ? Have you been drinking in here?

He took a deep breath and tried not to get upset, as always based on a lot, a lot of willpower. We don't need to stay on the path of fairness, humanity, and correctness by avoiding pointing out that Marc would sometimes strangle his brother, right? Who has not ever felt the relentless need to end the life of someone with the same last name? Granted, perhaps Marc's passion for drowning was sometimes beyond the ordinary, but it cannot be said that it was not typical, nor that it had been crawling like a social scourge since, for example, the Ottoman Empire. Yasin studied history when he wasn't driving and had told Marc, whether to encourage or appease his bloodshed, he didn't know yet, that the heirs to the crown used to put their brothers to the sword to prevent them from seizing the throne.

There was no throne here, but Marc thought about the stabbing, suspecting that Jesse might have pissed himself. In its black leather upholstery.

"Please come out," he asked with all that politeness that masked a strong homicidal desire. I have to go to work.

Jesse frowned.

“Forgiveness? My wife kicks me out of my house and now my brother kicks me out of the car?

“Getting technical, the house belongs to your wife and the car belongs to me, so we have every right to be free of your scenes.

His brother's jaw dropped and he looked away. She jerked off her hood, an action that revealed a series of wisps of red hair with a life of their own, pointing in all directions. Marc deflated a little when he saw him hunched over, rubbing his stubble impatiently and desperately. He almost forgot that he had thought of knives and slaughter and Ottoman thrones.

He didn't mean to be harsh with him, but he had no other choice if he wanted him to snap out of it. He was covering Victoria on the Campbell case not just because he was particularly interested in destroying his client's husband”and Marc never did anything unless he could benefit a little”but because she wasn't in a position to take on a single case. because of the divorce with his brother.