Mila turned to leave the breakroom, fresh mug of coffee in her hands, but the second she spun around, Marcus was right behind her. Mila screamed and jumped, the coffee flying out of her mug and splashing all over the front of her white blouse. She looked up at Marcus in a glare, the glare deepening when she saw his clothes perfectly intact. Not even one splash.

"What the hell?" She hissed.

"Hell, exactly," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes. "Did you hear about that rapist on the news?"

"Dude, I'm at work, and you just ruined my fucking clothes," she snapped, turning and setting her half-empty mug down, taking paper towels and carefully cleaning her mother's necklace before working on her shirt.

"Did you hear about the rapist?" Marcus asked again.

"Stop saying that word, it makes me want to turn into the she-hulk and rip everything apart," Mila sighed, staring down at her shirt with a frown.

"Well, did you?"

"Yes, I did, Jesus, what?" She asked, setting her hands on her hips.

"They're saying there's not enough evidence to convict him of anything despite three survivors stepping forward," Marcus said. "Sounds like we may need to take justice into our own hands. Give me his name."

"Okay, you know what? It's really not cool of you to use something like that to get to me," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Obviously I want him dead."

"Good, so do I, then I can torture his pathetic ass in hell," Marucs shrugged. "Give me his name."

Mila chewed on her lip and seriously considered it for a moment. Then the braided bracelet Stella made her out of embroidery floss caught her eye. She ran her finger along the bracelet and then looked up at Marcus. "No," she clipped, grabbing what was left of her coffee and heading out of the breakroom. "It's either me, or no one."

"So you have no problem with a shitty person going free and probably hurting even more people?" Marcus asked, following after her.

Mila took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pang of guilt in her chest. Of course she wasn't okay with it but that wasn't the problem. "I like how you're trying to make his actions and our shitty justice system something that's my fault."

"Who are you talking to?" Lindsay asked, clutching a stack of folders to her chest.

"I'm..." she trailed off, glaring back at Marcus who seemed quite amused someone thought she was talking to herself. "I was thinking out loud," she said, smiling sheepishly at Lindsay.

"Oh girl, what happened?" Lindsay frowned at Mila's coffee-stained shirt.

"Accident with the coffee," Mila sighed. "I don't suppose you have any spare clothes here?"

"I don't," she said, chewing on her lip. "You could ask Kayla if you could go..." she trailed off, glancing back at Kayla's office. She didn't even bother finishing her sentence and Mila knew why. No one wanted to ask Kayla for anything. She seemed to permanently be in a bad mood. Mila might've disliked her like so many people did, except she looked up to her too much. Kayla came off as cold, but she was a damn good lawyer who'd helped a lot of people and for Mila, that earned her plenty of respect.

"Yeah, no, I'm good," Mila said, making her way to her desk. If she sat strategically, most people probably wouldn't notice her shirt since the monitor would block the view. At least, that's what Mila hoped for.

"I bet your friend would do the right thing and send me after this guy," Marcus said, crossing his arms and leaning against Mila's desk.

"Stop trying to guilt me," Mila snapped. Lindsay looking at her curiously reminded her not everyone could see Marcus. Mila smiled weakly and swiveled on her chair, away from Marcus and towards Lindsay. "Did you need something from me?"

"Oh, no, I just was looking for you to let you know lawyer hottie is coming in today," she said, a blush forming as her lips tugged upwards.

"Callum is coming in today?" Mila asked, her shoulders slumping. Normally, she'd love to see Callum, but she wasn't exactly looking her best. Standing over six feet with dark hair and a body that left half the people in the office drooling, everyone was excited when Callum came in. He was one of the partners of the firm but rarely spent time in the office.

"He should be here any minute," Lindsay nodded. Her eyes drifted to the door and widened. The blush took over more of her face and she lifted the files in her arms to hide it. "As in this minute, actually," she whispered.

Mila followed Lindsay's line of sight, her heart speeding up when she saw Callum walk in the doors. He paused at someone's desk and leaned back against their cubicle, laughing. The laugh made both Mila and Lindsay sigh dreamily as they stared at him.

"I'm just going to... Go to my office..." Lindsay said, slowing making her way towards her office which was conveniently close to where Callum was.

"Seriously? Him?" Marcus scoffed. Mila rotated her chair, giving Marcus a dirty look. "What?" He asked innocently. "He's average."

"Average," Mila wheezed, bending over as she tried to catch her breath from laughing. "Nothing about that man is average."

"You're being influenced by your friend who clearly wants to fuck him," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes.

"You're right about the wanting to fuck him thing," Mila said honestly. "Everyone wants to fuck him. Guys that thought they were straight want to fuck him. The only thing influencing me is that magnificent specimen," she said, glancing back at Callum and biting on her lip.

"You need to raise your standards," Marcus muttered.

"They can't get higher than Callum Mitchell," Mila shrugged. "He's so hot, I'd have his babies, and I don't even want babies."

"So if he walked over here and said he wanted you, you'd just fuck him?" Marcus asked, crossing his arms. "What do you even know about him?"

"If Callum Mitchell came up to me and said he wanted to fuck me, I'd push everything off my desk then ask him if he wanted me spread out or bent over. Then I'd drop my panties and let him fuck me however he wanted, in front of everyone, right now, I wouldn't even care if they all watched. That's how hot he is."

"You wouldn't," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, yes I would," Mila said with a decisive nod. "Now keep your annoying trap shut, he's on his way over here," Mila said, crossing her legs, letting her skirt ride up a little. She put on her best smile as Callum approached her desk. "Hi Mr. Mitchell."

"Hi Mila," he said, frowning at her shirt. "What happened?"

Mila blinked a couple times, her gaze slowly dropping to her blouse. Right. She started fantasizing about Callum and completely forgot her shirt had a giant coffee stain on it. She put her hands over her chest and laughed nervously. "Coffee incident. I don't have any spare clothes here."

"Well, you can't sit like that all day," he said, shrugging off his suit jacket before he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Mila's eyes widened and for once, she had time forming words. "What-what are you doing?"

"I have an undershirt on underneath," he explained. "And I'm done at court for the day, I only stopped by to pick up a file but then I'll be heading home. You need the shirt more than I do."

"You don't have to do that," Mila said.

"I don't mind, Mila," he said, bringing his blue eyes to hers with a smile that had her panties growing damp.

"Close your mouth," Marcus snapped.

Mila hadn't realized her mouth was open but quickly snapped it shut as Callum got his shirt off. He stood in front of her in a thin, white tank that showed off his nice arms and broad chest. The giggle that came out of Mila when he handed the shirt over didn't even sound like her. "Thank you, Mr. Mitchell, are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'll get it back next time I see you," he said with a wink. "Have a nice day, Mila."

"You-you too," she said, holding the shirt to her chest and leaning over her desk to watch him walk away. "Damn," she whispered. He had a nice ass too.

"Oh give me a break, he's not that impressive," Marcus grumbled.

"Why are you being so ridiculous?" Mila asked, rolling her eyes. She brought the shirt up and inhaled the scent, letting out a small groan. "God, he smells so good. I'm going to live in this shirt."

"It's going to be way too big for you," Marcus pointed out.

"I don't give a shit," Mila shrugged, standing with the shirt clutched in her hands.

Mila walked into the bathroom and unbuttoned her shirt. She slipped it off and tossed it on the counter, her eyes landing on the pendant that rested between her breasts. She took it in her hand, looking down at the giant, smooth opal stone. The chain and setting were both rose gold and held the one-inch diameter opal. The opal was framed by small chocolate and nude diamonds in an almost floral pattern. The necklace belonged to her mother but her mother gave it to her before she died, shortly after she was diagnosed with dementia. Mila remembered that day vividly.

"It's been in my mother's family for generations and I want you to have it," her mom said, placing the necklace in Mila's hand and closing her hands around it. "Take care of it."

"Are you sure you want me to have this?" Mila asked, her heart pounding as the heavy necklace felt even weightier than she remembered. "You never take it off."

"And I hope you don't either," her mother said, setting her hand on Mila's face. "It was always going to be yours. I want you to have it before my mind makes me forget to give it to you. It's yours, Mila, take good care of it and pass it on to your daughter."

"I don't want kids," Mila reminded her.

"Then pass it onto Estella," her mother said. "Either way, it's yours now. When you look at it, I hope you think of me. Turn around," she said, gesturing for Mila to turn. "Let me put it on you."

Mila hesitated but handed her mother the necklace and turned. She gathered her hair back, watching in the mirror from her mother's vanity as her mother brought the necklace around her neck, the pendant heavy against her chest. Her mother fastened the necklace and Mila let her hair down, setting her hand under the necklace, brushing the edges with her fingertips as she stared at it through the mirror.

"It suits you," her mother whispered, wrapping her arms around Mila's shoulders. "I love you for always. Please don't forget that, especially when my mind betrays me. Don't forget I love you. When you look at this necklace, remember me as me. Can you do that?"

"Of course, mama," Mila said, swallowing back the tears. "I love you for always."

Mila blinked a few times, snapping out of the memory and clutching that necklace tighter. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to stave off the tears. When she opened her eyes again, she wasn't alone.

She screamed but Marcus put his hand over her mouth to muffle it. "Stop screaming every time you see me or someone is going to call a mental hospital for you."

"Well stop just popping up without warning," Mila hissed, shoving his hand away and turning to glare at him.

The problem with glaring at him was his eyes weren't even on her face to see it. They were on her breasts, where only a lace bra kept her naked torso from him. Mila cleared her throat and his eyes snapped to hers. He licked his lips and shoved a shirt into her hand. Mila frowned, glancing down at the shirt. It was one of hers.

"Where did you get this?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your apartment."

"Breaking and entering, real nice," she said sarcastically. "It was weirdly kind of you but I have Callum's shirt."

Mila set down the shirt Marcus brought and reached for Callum's but it turned to flames in front of her eyes. Mila squeaked, withdrawing her hand and watching in horror as the entire thing burned up, leaving only a pile of ash as evidence.

"Dude, what the hell was that for?" She snapped, smacking Marcus's arm. "What am I going to tell him when he asks for his shirt back?"

"Tell him you lost it," Marcus shrugged.

"Lost it?? You ass," she hissed, smacking his arm again, then his chest, then his other arm. "He did something nice and it was a good excuse to approach him and ask him out and you ruined it!"

"Ask him out?" Marcus repeated, frowning.

"Yes, ask him out, what else do you do with someone so hot they make you turned on just by existing?"

"Plenty of people could have that effect on you, it's not a good enough reason," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I could have that effect on you, for fuck's sake."

"Oh sure you could," Mila said, rolling her eyes.

Marcus pressed Mila back against the counter before she even registered the movement. Her palms were flat against the cool counter and not going anywhere, as Marcus's hands were locked around her wrist, his body pressed against hers, the hair from his trimmed beard tickling against her jaw and making her heartrate accelerate.

"I smell a liar," Marcus whispered against her ear.

"You can't smell that," Mila breathed, looking over at him. Turning her head brought her lips closer to his and Marcus focused on breathing evenly.

"Oh yes I can," he said with a low rumble in his chest that sounded suspiciously like a growl. His eyes flashed red and Mila sucked in a breath. "Get dressed and rethink your name choice, or a guilty person will be walking free."

He disappeared before Mila could respond. She stood there, staring straight ahead with wide eyes, an annoying pulse between her legs as she slowly released the breath that had been caught the moment he had his hands around her wrists while she whispered, "fuck."