Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (easy readers .txt) 📗

an animal passion, our bodies convulsing with pleasure. Finally, I collapse beside her, out of breath.

We lie there for a moment, catching our breath. She runs her hands over my legs to my ass.

“That was incredible,” I say with a grin. “As always.”

Mia rolls toward me, and together we fall asleep.

Chapter 13

Mia

At breakfast the next morning, Axel and Jeremy goof around and tease each other—so unlike the way I grew up. With William and Francis Couture, we dressed for breakfast, and we were never permitted to make much noise. My father didn’t have the patience for people who were loud or interrupted his train of thought. He’s important and has a lot going on between his office and his clients. I like breakfast with the guys much more.

I need to go to Marci’s office in time for us to head over to the Federal Building together, and I still need to shower and prepare.

“What do you have going on tonight?” Axel asks as I gather my things.

“I’m meeting with the government today about my ex-friend I mentioned to you. I don’t know how long it’s going to be, but I’m assuming I’ll be too tired to do too much tonight,” I tell him.

For a moment I think he’s going to ask a question, but then he just nods and wishes me luck. Jeremy looks away as I kiss Axel goodbye, but he gives me a wave on my way out.

After Peter runs me home, I take a quick shower, dry my hair, and put it in a high ponytail. I dress and look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a classic—a navy blue sleeveless pencil dress with white zig-zag edging around the hem and a high neck. It has a slender white belt at the waist, and I’ve paired it with nude Gucci stiletto pumps. My makeup is subtle, but I look fresh and professional. I take a breath. I can do this.

My phone buzzes, letting me know Peter’s around back and waiting. I walk out, and Jim, who is sitting in the front seat, steps out and opens the rear door for me. I slide into the rear passenger seat and see Jennifer Talbot, another member of Jim’s team, seated in the driver’s side rear.

“Wow. I didn’t know I was going to a party,” I say.

Jim turns around. “Marci called this morning, and there’s press waiting for you outside her office. She’d like us to meet her and her team at the Federal Building instead. They’ve agreed to give you a private room to conference in before your meeting. I have a jammer so you’ll be safe to talk.

“What does the press care? I’m being interviewed. This isn’t even the court case yet, and it’s no surprise that I’m being interviewed—we were friends.”

Jim shrugs. “Good question. Our plan is to drop you at the back entrance. Bash is already onsite, and he’ll take this car once we arrive. The three of us will escort you in and through security.”

My stomach rolls. They think I may need three highly trained guards? I wish I had only eaten toast this morning. “Jim, is Marci not telling me something? Do I need to find other counsel since she’s representing so many of my friends?”

Jim gives me a half-smile, and there’s a softness in his eyes. “You can certainly hire someone else, but I think you’re fine with Marci. There’s going to be a growing interest in the case. Remember how many people adored Cecelia. This chaos is rooted in people who want to see her killer come to justice.”

I nod. “Add me to that list.”

The city streets are packed with people on their way to their offices. Sirens wail. As we stop at a stoplight, a homeless man approaches the vehicle, and Peter shoos him away. Suddenly flash bulbs are popping, and it’s crazy. Peter lurches into the cross traffic despite the red light, and we escape an oncoming car by only a hair. Jim is talking into his sleeve as we come to a hard stop, and we hurry out of the car while Bash jumps in the driver’s seat and tears off.

Jim leads the way into the Federal Building, and I follow.

We walk into the front room and beyond reach of the crush of press, which still baffles me.

The receptionist greets us. “US Attorney Clifton has provided us with all of your information. Please hand me a driver’s license, and I will verify that I have everyone, and then you’re free to go upstairs. Your attorney has already arrived.”

We walk through metal detectors and are escorted to the fourth floor.

Walker is there to greet us when the elevator doors open. “Quite the party outside.” I give him the side-eye, and he grins. “They’re anxious for the case to start.”

I nod. “Me too.”

He leads me down to a waiting room. “Marci’s going to tell you this, but today is only a formality. The case will start in early January in Portland. You will most likely be one of the first witnesses about six months from now.”

Walker holds the door open, and Marci cuts him a nasty look. For a half-second, I imagine that their sex life must be explosive. They grew up together and got married earlier last year. He has his eye on political office and even made arrangements for our poker group to meet at the White House to play.

“I hope you’re not talking to my client without me present,” she says as she urges me into the utilitarian, government conference room.

“Believe it or not, I’ve had many conversations with Mia over the years without your presence, dear wife.”

“Here, you can address me as Ms. Peterson. I’m Ms. Couture’s counsel, and I suggest you remember that.”

Yep, explosive.

I look at Walker, and the corner of