‘I would think so.’
‘But I saw the top of his bottom.’
‘I have to go.’ Mikael hesitated as Wendy buzzed. ‘Hold on a moment, Layla.’
She would happily hold on, she thought—her show was back on and the couples were lying together and smiling.
‘I really do have to go, Layla.’
‘Just one more question…’ She didn’t get to ask it.
‘Layla, the jury’s returning.’
‘So soon? But—’
Mikael had already hung up.
He met with his client, who was sweating. ‘It’s not good that they’re back so soon, is it?’
‘No,’ he said.
‘A little bit of hope would be nice.’
He did not respond. He had done his very best for the filth that now sat next to him. What hope had he given his victim that night?
Mikael sat, his face impassive, waiting.
‘All rise.’
Mikael did.
* * *
Layla hopped on one leg as she watched the court reporter on the court’s steps and Terrence stood beside her, navigating social media and giving her updates.
‘The verdict’s coming.’
‘Oh,’ Layla said. ‘Do you think he’ll be upset if he loses?’
‘He rarely loses,’ Terrence said. ‘Probably…’ Terrence paused. ‘Okay, here it is…’ He paused for a moment and then read out the verdict. ‘Guilty.’
Layla gasped as pandemonium hit the courtroom.
‘They’re shouting abuse from the public gallery,’ Terrence said, reading from a laptop as Layla watched the news. ‘The judge is thanking the jury.’
‘What are they saying about Mikael?’ Layla demanded.
Nothing the court reporter or Terrence could find gave her a clue as to how he was feeling.
Mikael Romanov, the court reporter said, was, as always, a closed book.
Not even later, as he walked down the court steps and ignored the reporters, did his expression give Layla an inkling as to his thoughts.
‘Send someone to tidy the room,’ Layla said, ‘and I want more fruit and chocolate sauce and champagne…’ Rapid were her orders.
‘Champagne?’ Terrence checked. ‘I don’t think he’ll be in the mood for celebrating.’
‘Now, Terrence, please!’
* * *
Mikael’s expression was unreadable as he walked back to chambers—just as it would have been had his client been found not guilty.
No one could ever guess what went on in his mind.
He de-robed and took a long drink of sparkling water. Then, a short while later, his car gunned from the car park and Mikael left in a puff of smoke, driving straight to the hotel, where he threw his keys at the valet and this time told him to park it. He took the elevator to her door.
‘Enter,’ Layla called, and he took out his swipe card and let himself in.
She was sitting up in bed, still wearing his shirt. There was champagne in a bucket and he hadn’t had a drink in two months, and there was fruit and chocolate sauce. She understood him, Mikael realised, somehow she understood him—or rather she simply let him be.
‘Are you upset?’ Layla asked.
‘No.’
‘Because I thought you could just hide in bed with me. Not for sex. I have always dreamt of it, but today I found out it is really nice to sit in bed and just eat.’
‘Okay…’ Mikael’s voice was a touch wary, but he took off his jacket and tie, shoes and socks, and then opened the champagne. He poured two glasses and joined her, but lay on top of the bed rather than getting in.
‘How do you feel?’ Layla asked, and Mikael thought for a moment before answering.
‘Elated.’ He turned and looked at her. ‘There’s no such thing as a bad day at the office for me, Layla. That bastard is going down for a very long time.’