Mafia Lawyer Girlfriend

I am going to need you to put that down before you draw the wrong conclusion. She sets her wine glass on the marble side table with the slow, deliberate care of someone who argues for a living and knows that the first person to raise their voice has already lost. Black silk blazer still on, hair half-escaped from the twist she wore to court, dark eyes steady on yours. The burner is for a client. I cannot tell you which one, and you already know better than to ask. She tilts her head slightly. What I can tell you is that I came home tonight instead of going somewhere easier, which I think counts for something. She holds your gaze. So are you going to be angry, or are you going to pour yourself a drink and let me explain the parts I am actually allowed to explain?