#vincent renzi x original female character

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter One

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: None (as of now)

A/N: I have eleven chapters of this written so far but a slew of changes to make and things to add. In order to not burn myself out, I won’t be posting this on any sort of schedule. None of this has been beta’d and I’m posting in the midst of a covid fever dream so if there’s any mistakes, simply ignore them.

The morning fog hung low over Paris, a delicate shroud that veiled the city in mystery and whispered of stories untold. Among the ancient streets and grand boulevards, a tale was about to unfold—one that would intertwine the lives of two distinctly different souls.

In the heart of the city, Vincent Renzi stood before the towering edifice of the Palais de Justice. His silhouette, a solitary figure against the sprawling architecture, was a testament to the weight he carried. At forty, Vincent had the kind of presence that commanded attention—not just for his refined appearance, but for the intensity that simmered beneath his calm exterior. Today, that intensity was sharper, fueled by the stakes of the case that awaited him inside.

Vincent was not merely a lawyer; he was a defender of justice, a role he embraced with unwavering dedication. The case he was about to undertake was personal, representing his friend Sandra, who had been caught in a nightmare she claimed was a fabrication. Accused of a crime as sensational as it was tragic—pushing her husband out of a window—Sandra's innocence was a truth Vincent held unshakeable.

As he made his way through the corridors of justice, Vincent's thoughts were on the battle ahead. The case was complex, tangled in a web of evidence and emotion, and it demanded not just legal expertise but a deep understanding of human nature. It was a challenge Vincent was ready to face, driven by a conviction that the law, in its purest form, was about protecting the innocent and uncovering the truth.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, an ambitious American lawyer was preparing for a journey that would change the course of her career. With a keen interest in international law and a hunger for experience beyond the confines of American courtrooms, she viewed the opportunity to shadow a French lawyer as a doorway to a new world. Little did she know, her path would lead her to Vincent Renzi, and together, they would embark on a journey that would blur the lines between professional collaboration and personal connection.

Paris awaited her with its charm and challenges, a city ripe with history and alive with the promise of adventure. As she packed her bags, she imagined the streets she would walk, the cases she would explore, and the people she would meet. Among those imagined faces was Vincent's, a partner in law she had yet to meet but whose reputation had preceded him.

The stage was set, the players drawn to their marks by fate and ambition. As the American lawyer's plane touched down on French soil, the first chapter of their story began to write itself, against the backdrop of Paris and the looming majesty of the French Alps. Little did they know, their encounter would be a confluence of minds and hearts, a trial of their beliefs and convictions, and a testament to the unexpected paths life can take.

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The chambers of Vincent Renzi were a world apart from the skyscrapers and modern glass facades that the American lawyer, Leah Bardin, was accustomed to. Nestled in a historic building whose stones whispered tales of centuries past, the office was a reflection of Paris itself—timeless, elegant, and steeped in stories waiting to be told.

Leah stepped inside, her senses immediately enveloped by the rich aroma of aged books and the subtle hint of espresso—a stark contrast to the sterile bustle of her New York firm. She was greeted by walls lined with volumes of legal tomes, certificates of commendation, and an array of photographs capturing moments of triumph and camaraderie.

At the heart of this sanctuary stood Vincent, his back to the door, engrossed in a mountain of case files that sprawled across his desk. The morning light streamed through the window, casting him in a silhouette that accentuated the deliberation in his posture.

Hearing the soft click of the door, Vincent turned, his gaze meeting Leah’s for the first time. In that moment, an unspoken assessment passed between them—a lawyer's instinctive evaluation of an opponent, colleague, and unknown entity all at once.

"Mademoiselle Bardin, I presume?" Vincent's voice broke the silence, his English tinged with the melodious accent of his homeland.

Leah extended her hand, the firmness of her grip belying the flutter of anticipation she felt. "Leah Bardin. It's an honor to meet you, Monsieur Renzi."

Vincent's study of Leah was brief but thorough. Despite his initial reservations about allowing an American lawyer to shadow him, he couldn't deny the determination that shone in her eyes. It was a look he recognized—a reflection of his own passion for the law.

"Please, call me Vincent. 'Monsieur Renzi' makes me feel like one of those ancient tomes on the shelf," he said, a hint of humor softening his features. "I understand you're here to learn about international law, but I must warn you, the case we're embarking on is not for the faint of heart."

Leah’s response was immediate, her resolve clear. "I didn't come all this way for an easy lesson. I'm here to learn, to contribute in any way I can."

Vincent regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded, the initial barrier of formality giving way to a burgeoning respect. "Very well. Let's get to work."

As they delved into the details of Sandra's case, Vincent was surprised by Leah’s insightful questions and her quick grasp of the complexities involved. Leah, in turn, was captivated by Vincent's depth of knowledge and his passionate advocacy for his friend.

Their first meeting, initially marked by caution, evolved into a dynamic exchange of ideas and theories. It was clear that despite their different backgrounds, they shared a common dedication to justice. As the day wore on, the foundation of an unexpected alliance was laid, their mutual respect a testament to the potential of their collaboration.

As Leah left Vincent's office that evening, the streets of Paris bathed in the golden hue of sunset, she felt an exhilarating sense of purpose. And for Vincent, watching her silhouette disappear into the maze of the city, there was an acknowledgment, however grudging, that Leah Bardin might just be the ally he needed in the battle ahead.

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 1. Consolations, S. 172: No. 3 Lento placido

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Life is full of unexplainable chances, turns and vicissitudes, which are leading to the mind-blowing conclusions. By these forces people can meet again after years apart, when they promised to never see each other. And it happened to me.

It was the regular cold winter morning in Paris, when I left my apartment, listening to classic’s music playlist in my headphones, while heading to the bureau where I work, reading a book while in the crowded underground. Paris was slowly waking up for the last day before the weekend, streets were busy with people hurrying to their working places, but I made my trip to the bureau fast as I usually do, and I opened the door to the lawyers' office when Franz Liszt’s composition was finishing its tune in my headphones.

“Good morning, Madeleine”, I said to my colleague, entering the bureau.

“Morning, Camille”, she replied, checking her makeup in the small mirror, “I hope you didn’t forget that we’re celebrating your solved case tonight at Brasserie Lipp”, she said, before I disappeared in my cabinet, “I’m not giving up my plans to find you a handsome boyfriend there”, I rolled my eyes when I heard the ending of her sentence but thankfully, she didn’t see it.

“How could I forget about this evening, especially after that hard case, we deserve the celebration”, I turned to Madeleine and smiled, “But I’m working just fine without boyfriend, but thanks for your consideration” I finished, and closed the door behind me, when she replied: “I won’t give up, Camille, you know me” which put a smile on my face.

I didn’t like to discuss my private life with anyone, not with my friends nor, of course, with my colleagues. Besides, I had my own love secrets which never led to anything and after which I decided to give up finding someone for me. Probably I wasn’t designed for love and I was full of hard job as a lawyer, trying to find balance between work and my life, and enjoyed every minute of my free time. I didn’t need no one. Or I thought I didn’t.

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During her teenage years, my mother read the play Camille by Alexandre Dumas and was so impressed by the name that she decided to name her future daughter the same way. So, when she married my father and when I was born, I got that name. Camille Cadieux. My parents were successful and very important lawyers and both of them came from lawyers’ dynasties: English and French. And since my childhood I spent summer vacations both in countryside in Cambridgeshire and in Provence, where my grandparents live. My childhood was full of literature and old films, I loved to get lost in stories that they were telling me through pages of a book or film frames. As a grown-up woman I continued to enjoy these hobbies of mine, they helped me not only to relax after hard long working day, but also to forget my thoughts.

I always knew that I would be a lawyer, just like my parents. For a 27-year-old lawyer I’ve achieved great heights in a short time, taking a couple of factors in mind: I’ve known a lot about law since I was a teenager, with the help of my parents of course, and I didn’t want and had no right to let them down.

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My computer was turned on, I poured fresh coffee in my cup and started to check e-mails. Regular morning routine. But suddenly my eyes caught an e-mail with painfully familiar name and surname, which I wanted to forget and thought that I succeeded in it:

“Hello, Camille,

You are probably surprised to see this e-mail from me, after a long time since we’ve spoken for the last time. But I recalled how good you were at your studies in my class and I’ve heard about your successful cases at court in the past year, so I’m asking you to help me with one case on which I’m currently starting to work. I will understand if you decline it, and I will be happy if you agree.

Please, reply to this message as soon as possible. I will be glad to hear from you again.

Best regards,

Vincent”

I reread this message a couple of times trying to process what was written there. I knew only one person named Vincent. Vincent Renzi. Maître Vincent Renzi, who was my tutor when I was studying MA at law school, whom I wanted to forget and never meet again. But at the same time deep inside me I wanted to meet him once again, even though it’d probably be hard, but couldn’t resist.

After tapping the reply to my ex-tutor, I took a sip from my coffee, stood up from the desk and looked at the streets of Paris from the window, opening it slightly to have a smoke. Funny how our paths connected again in the strangest way possible. But it wasn’t so strange, because we work in the same sphere, solving cases and being presented during courts. We never met in courts before nor worked together. Maybe it was the right time to start.

The reply came fast. We agreed to meet each other the next day, on Saturday, at the small bistro to discuss the case and after we confirmed the meeting my heart started to beat a little faster, so quiet, like hidden and almost forgotten feelings which I have towards Vincent started to wake up. I wish I couldn’t feel anything, but it just won’t stop easily, all that I needed to do was to be professional, just how I always was at first during my studies and now during my work.

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Office hours finished fast and the computer with lamp on the table were switched off, and I stood up from my chair, taking the coat and tying scarf around my neck, brushed my long dark brown hair a little with right hand and exited my cabinet agreeing to meet Madeleine before the Brasserie Lipp’s entrance at 20:00.

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Brasserie Lipp was crowded and loud as always, with a big queue of people waiting outside to have a seat at the famous bistro. The atmosphere at our table was busy: me and Madeleine were discussing solved cases, thinking about future ones, when my thoughts were interrupted by the memories and anxiety to meet Vincent the next day. The ideas about the case on which he wanted to ask me to work on together with him combined together with bubbles from champagne which I was drinking at Brasserie Lipp’s and this strange mixture was circling around, trying to build the right narrative and thick line of evidence even though I had no idea what the case was going to be like and how it’d turn everything upside down.

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The taxi drove me away from the noise of working Friday and evening at Brasserie Lipp as I was heading back home, with the only aim to get inside my bed and have a good sleep, which I didn’t have for a long period of time and thought that wouldn’t have if I’d agree to help Vincent with the case. But one thought still couldn’t leave me: why did Vincent write me after all these years of silence and why even me? It wasn’t a lie when he said that I was very good and very successful lawyer, I was flattered when he said in this letter that I was one of the best in the class, because it was true, not only because he wanted to satisfy my ego. Leos are all the same, we need to please ourselves and our egos.

I took a quick shower, put on my pajamas and after I finished my evening skincare routine, I looked at myself in the mirror while brushing my long brown hair: gray-green eyes which looked a little tired after a hard-working week, a scar on my right cheek, which I got as a child. My scar especially was my highlight which I loved, together with my short height. I sighed and walked into my bedroom, turning off the main light leaving one lamp on bedside table on.

The bedside table was occupied with everything: a book which I was reading at that time, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, lip balm for my dry lips, small photo frame with a picture of me when I was a child and the clock which was showing almost 1 o’clock in midnight. I turned off the vinyl player which was playing beautiful jazz compositions and finally jumped inside the warm blanket hoping that I’d fall asleep very fast as I was afraid to drown in endless thoughts and memories about my past with Vincent and anxiety about meeting him the very next day, acting that nothing never happened between us.

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La Vérité masterlist

[bethecliche]

my love mine all mine l vincent renzi x f!original character

summary: after seeing her for the first time, he just fell (deeply) in love word count: 3.7k content: female reader (no description of genitalia), mention of sex, mention of stretch marks, description of hair and eye color (but not texture or skin color), french laws and locations being misinterpreted, use of tv shows and books I didn't watch or read, non canon note: english is not my first langague! I wrote this in portuguese and then translated to english myself, there's a chance you'll find an error or something. I'm sorry sorry! I highly recommend you to listen to the song while reading.

you can check the aesthetic references for this oneshot here but take note that none of the people actual faces on this reflects on the character identity that I wrote, so don't base all of the details on the references for the characters in story.

The first time he noticed her, she was sitting on one of the wooden benches outside the courtrooms. She seemed nervous, shaking her legs and glancing restlessly between the watch on her wrist and the clock on the hallway wall, as if it made much difference. Regardless of her worried expression and furrowed brow, Vincent felt that he had never seen such an attractive woman in his life. From her brown hair to her brown boots, looked like she stepped out of one of those '70s fashion advertisements he'd seen in vintage magazines as a kid. He didn't had time to notice much more than that, as he crossed the hallway and headed to his session. At the end of the day, of course, she was no longer there.

What seemed to have been one of those street crushes that you see when crossing an avenue and never think about again, stayed in Vincent's head for a few days. Every time he passed by the corridor, he waited to see if the brunette would be there. He tried to guess what she was doing there that day and whether there was a possibility of bumping into her again, a question to which the universe answered “yes”.

Two weeks later, this time leaving work, he looked down buttoning his blue coat, distracted in his thoughts when he noticed the same brown boots a few steps in front of him. The stranger held a cigarette between her fingers and had her arms pressed against her body. Although it was snowing lightly, it was extremely cold for an autumn day. Her look was different, probably due to the weather, with a coat with a puffed collar and puffed sleeves, once again looking like she belonged to a previous decade. The wind ruffled her hair a little and the moonlight illuminated her posture, a scene Vincent believed could have come from a movie.

All his past relationships were comfortable. Someone he knew in high school, someone he knew in college, someone who was introduced by friends or someone his friends encouraged him to talk during an outing. He didn't consider himself an introvert, but he never needed to pursue someone who was interested. Things just happened for him. It wasn't his comfort zone just to approach a stranger like that, much less at the door of his work, but something that day said it was the right thing to do.

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and approached the girl asking to borrow a lighter. His sudden plan only went so far.

As soon as she turned to face him, she gave a friendly and inviting smile, taking the object out of her pocket and activating the flame in front of his face. Vincent stood still, staring into her eyes throughout the action, mesmerized by her and her sparkling brown eyes.

“Will I ever meet a lawyer who doesn’t smoke?” She asked as she extinguished the flame, placing the lighter and her free hand back in her pocket. Too cold to let it out.

His response took a few agonizing seconds, as his mind was far away and still lost in her gaze. He composed himself, running a hand through his hair and looking away.

“The day this happens, let me know. I want to be there.” Vincent laughed awkwardly, causing the girl to laugh as well. At that moment, he felt that he wanted to provoke more of this reaction, he wanted to see more of her smile and so the conversation flowed.

His first question was how she guessed he was a lawyer and not a passerby to which she replied, "You stand like a lawyer." He shared how being a lawyer was boring and tedious, but it did have its dramatic moments in court when she asked if the career was challenging like its portrait on TV. He also discovered that she was there to pay a car ticket caused by her younger brother, hence the great nervousness when he first saw her a few weeks ago.

“When my parents told me that my 20th birthday present was a baby brother, I already felt within myself that I would be the best sister in the world. That I would try to make his life as easy as possible. 18 years later, he asks to borrow my car to visit his girlfriend - which I don't hesitate to do, after all I support young love. And the little shit-head makes sure on parking in front of a fire hydrant.” The girl blew smoke to her right side, not taking her eyes off him. “Would you be my lawyer if I try to choke him?”

Vincent could only laugh at her spontaneity, easy way of talking about life and easy way of making conversation.

“Just threaten him, it will be an easier case for me to win.”

They talked about Metz and how her family decided to move to Paris when she was a teenager because they knew the city needed more beautiful people, a fact Vincent agreed with. In order not to dismiss him, in a very charming way, she praised his Parisian accent and said that such a comment did not apply to him and only God knows how Vincent felt inside after that.

The two shared their tastes, such as reading romances and watching Dix pour cent every night before bed. It was as if they knew each other much more than the 1 hour they spent together under the snow. They shared maybe two more cigarettes before realizing it was getting a little too late to chat like that on the street.

He doesn't even know how he got out of that situation alive and managed to get home with her number.

Their first date was at a local cinema on a Friday night for a re-showing of Buffet Froid, a film Anne had never seen.

He didn't remember the last time he felt butterflies in his stomach, although it was guaranteed that nothing could compare to this time. As he got ready and tried to match his best t-shirts with his beige pants (which he eventually changed out of, finding them too tacky), Vincent remained nervous thinking that she might not show up or that this would be the first and last time they would meet in this circumstance.

In the end, all the “first time” flutter went out the window when he saw her smiling and waving on the other side of the street, already with the tickets in her hand. “I'm glad you came.” She said, holding his arm as they walked through the door of the establishment.

“I wouldn't miss it.” he replied.

The two took watching films very seriously, so it was only during the ending credits, after a lot of laughter, small comments and bumping hands on the popcorn bucket, that the two kissed.

He felt the softness of her skin on his hand and her sweet scent of perfume, in addition, of course, to the hot and saccharine kiss. It was slow, serene, just as they both wanted, being able to feel each other in that moment. It was also Anne's desire to slowly run her fingers through his hair and she didn't hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity.

After throwing their trash away, the two walked out of the cinema, now closer to each other, hand in hand. The weather wasn't as cold as when they first met and they were free to enjoy the warmth of their bodies without so many layers covering them.

“For a great 70's mind, you never having watched Buffet Froid is an insult.” He pointed at her with his free hand, wanting to tease her.

Anne rolled her eyes. Even though she liked the film, she didn't want to give a taste. “Obviously you would like action movies like that. It suits you.”

“I’ll make you like it too.” He stated, trying to imply that he wanted them to meet again, to which she responded by kissing his cheek and saying, “Next time, let's watch a romcom.”

Once, twice, three, four and a few more times, all being unusual dates. Sometimes she would call during his workday and say she would pick him up for an adventure. She drove aimlessly, just the two of them talking about their days and observing the city lights. These were Vincent's favorite “dates”, as they all ended with the two of them making out like two teenagers parked in the driveway of his apartment.

The more he got to know about her, the more he wanted to constantly be a part of her life. Anne owned a clothing store downtown, something he never tired of saying was the “most suitable job her”. On the last date they had, she took him to the closed store and put on a fashion montage for him, with improvised note cards on paper left on the counter and all. But she knew that the judge had been bought when he only gave her 10s. She also took the opportunity to get Vincent to do the same, putting him once again out of his comfort zone to find out that bell bottom jeans don't really suit him.

They even got to watch a car race - something that not even Anne had done, she had just decided that it was an experience they needed to have. They both entended up hating it, but the important thing was that the company was great.

That was one of the nights Anne slept at his house.

They ate some junk food from the fridge and watched a silly but captivating show on TV while they chatted more. When she realized she could sleep at any moment, Anne got up to brush her teeth and change her clothes, putting on her uniform for whenever she was there: a Vincent t-shirt.

Vincent found it charming how she captivated his gaze regardless of what she was doing. He loved her unique and sophisticated style, but he also loved seeing her like this, casually wearing his clothes, in his home, as if she were his. And lastly, he loved seeing her with nothing on.

Every detail of her body, her birthmarks on her shoulder and that one next to her beautiful eyes or her stretch marks on her back, everything about her seemed to have been chosen down to the millimeter. When they made love, his hands went everywhere, trying to reach as much of her as he could, to feel the warmth she exuded.

And the best way to love her was by looking into her eyes, admiring her beauty, running his lips up and down her body, being grateful for the privileged position it was to be able to love her.

Mornings were like nights, with him waking up earlier and being able, once again, to admire the woman beside her.

“You are even more beautiful in the morning.”

The two walked through the streets of Paris, both tipsy, looking for an available taxi in the dead of night. With their relationship now more established and their schedules aligned, they made it a challenge to come up with these unusual date only once a month so it wouldn't lose its fun. Today had been the day to go to the opera and due to their lack of sobriety, they didn't seem to have left anywhere other than the shabbiest bar on the corner.

The event was boring as fuck and they left halfway through to drink somewhere more enjoyable. They found an open bar showing a PSG versus Marseille match. Neither of them supported the teams or understood about football rules, but this seemed like a new opportunity for them to have another different experience that day.

One laughter after another, some passionate kisses between drinks and the two were celebrating PSG's victory at the bar with some strangers whom they befriended.

“My mother wants to meet you. My brother too. I said I might have a lawyer for the next time he's up to no good. Do you think it’s too early?”

When drunk, Anne tended to speak fast and slurred, but Vincent understood perfectly. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the tip of her nose. “I will love meeting your family.”

They never actually asked each other to go steady, but it was clear that they already belonged to each other at that point.

Vincent was on his cell phone writing a text to his mother about the shopping list for Christmas dinner and their desire to participate in decorating the tree (Anne's request to spend more time with her mother-in-law) while his girlfriend was lying on his lap reading his copy of Around the World in 80 Days (and she was loving it, for sure).

It was a lazy day for both of them at Vincent's place. A year into their relationship, the two of them loved sharing these moments together doing different activities.

“She said she misses you a lot and looks forward to seeing you on Christmas, but that you're banned from being near the kitchen when it is time to prepare desserts. Everything you touch that’s sweet ends up burning for some reason.”

Her smile, excited by her mother-in-law's affection, turned into a face indignant at the rule she imposed. "What?" She looked up from the book and pulled Vincent's hand to check if the message was real and it was. “This is so unfair!”

“Sorry, Anne, you’re just really bad at this.”

She lightly pushed his arm and pretended to be uncomfortable, although she knew it was true and wasn't really upset. Before she could return to her book, Vincent placed his cell phone on the table and began talking.

“One more thing, huh,” he cleared his throat, “I made one more space on the rack for you. I don't want certain clothes to get wrinkled in the drawer. I’ll make room in one more drawer too.”

Anne put the book aside and knelt on the sofa, facing her boyfriend. “Won’t it bother you? I already have space in my bedroom drawer, bathroom… In fact, there are a lot of my things scattered around the house. I don’t want to impose my space here.”

This was a subject that she had also been waiting to comment on for some time. By working her own hours at the store and having an employee to take her place wherever needed, Anne had a more flexible schedule than Vincent and it was easier to stay at his house, helping to keep everything on track and cooking for both of them. He would arrive just before dinner time and they could enjoy together without rushing to do the chores.

Because of this, the few clothes she wore just to sleep there became a drawer full, her makeup in the bathroom sink and her shoes near the door.

The gray-haired man hugged her around the waist, kissing her forehead and assuring her of his action. “You are not imposing anything, mon chéri. I want you to use this space. I want to have more and more of you here.”

For him, having her scent permeate the rooms was a gift wrapped in the best bow. Knowing that every day he would come home to see her welcoming smile and welcome kiss was the biggest work incentive.

“It feels like my home.” She whined.

“It’s your home. Our home.” He insisted.

In his favorite action, he cupped her face and looked warmly into her eyes, admiring her features trying to associate with what he was trying to say. They both smiled at each other realizing where the topic was going.

“Are you…”

“I want you to move in with me.”

The beautiful smile that filled his heart appeared on her face and Vincent, who was sure of her choice, but a little afraid of her accepting it, smiled too at her positive reaction.

In conclusion, he ended up needing to make more closet space for her countless boots, but he was happy that she could call the space her own (and she looks great in those boots, he would never complain about making room for them).

The snack table was almost empty and that made Anne happy. She might not be good at desserts, but her food was always praised and she almost never had leftovers when she cooked for her friends.

“This sandwich is delicious, aunt Anne!” Daniel stated, taking another one from the table and sitting on the sofa next to her. “Can I take some home?”

“Of course you can! There’s more stored in the kitchen, I’ll put it on the side for you to take.” She continued, now coming closer to whisper. “You can give Snoop a bite, I won’t tell your mom.”

“Hey, I’m watching you two!” Sandra said towards the back of the sofa, pointing at the two jokingly. She was talking to Vincent leaning against the wall in the hallway, looking anxious.

There was approximately 10 people spread throughout the room at this gathering. The couple chose to host a celebration for the launch of Sandra's new book, a dear friend of both, and tried to make room for everyone present. She was very delighted with the honor, although unaccustomed to the positive attention she was receiving.

Even though they weren't glued to each other at the party, Anne and Vincent always stopped for a moment to exchange a kiss and ask if everything was okay. He, even more so, couldn't stop admiring his girlfriend from afar. Parties like this always made him happy to be able to share the love he had for her and also show others that this was his girl.

It was around 6pm that they said their goodbyes and thanked their friends for being there. After closing the door, Anne took a deep breath and leaned against it with Vincent kissing her neck and hugging her waist.

“Had fun today?” He asked against her neck, kissing slowly until he reached her face. Hugging him back, she just nodded yes, pulling him into a longing and passionate kiss.

Vincent pressed his body against hers and tightened his grip, placing his free hand against the wall for support. Everything was going well, until Vincent suddenly stopped, as if he couldn't give in to temptation yet.

He also took a deep breath, with a shy smile as he looked at her.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, still leaning against the door and resting her hands on his shoulder.

"What?" He retorted.

“During the party, you kept looking at me like that, with those heart-eyes, that fool in love face of yours. And now you're doing it again. It seems... different.”

Vincent laughed awkwardly, as if he was unprepared to respond that quickly. “In my defense, I always look like a fool in love when I’m with you.”

Before anything else, Vincent took a red velvet box out of his pocket and opened it, showing a silver ring made especially for her. With the hand that was on her waist, he slipped into her hand and intertwined their fingers.

“Kneeling isn’t your style, nor are long speeches in front of our friends, but I can’t just leave the ring in your hand without saying anything. The day I saw you for the first time, I was intrigued. The second time, that feeling I had of needing to talk to you urgently, of not letting the opportunity pass, I think, somehow, I knew we were going to get to this moment right now. By the third time - I was already in love. Head over heels, worshiping the ground you pass, heart-eyes, whatever you want to call it. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel those butterflies in my stomach before seeing you, that I don't feel the eager to be by your side. If you do me the honor of marrying me, I can promise that you will have a man who wakes up in love with you every day. Forever.”

Anne's eyes were already full of tears as soon as she saw the box and she couldn't help but shed them when she heard the proposal.

The last 4 years of their lives were instinctive, passionate, in a way she never thought she would experience. All her last lovers didn't last long, they couldn't handle her personality or couldn't love her right, so she was left with no hope that it would change. But Vincent's speech was something that she not only believed, she felt. Every day, she felt his love, his affection and his care. Wave of action speaks louder than words and she trusted her man.

There was no other answer than yes.

The same word was repeated by the two of them at the registry office a few months later. The idea was never a big party, it didn't suit either of their personalities, but Anne always wanted a dress and a veil, so they were both there, in their wedding clothes just before lunch time in the registry office next to Vincent's work place.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

With that sentence, the two shared a classic wedding kiss, with Vincent holding her around the waist and Anne throwing her leg up. They could live that moment over and over again, but they needed to go out for a little celebration party with their friends before they left for their honeymoon (and Anne was more than eager to have her friends around so she could toss the bouquet).

Outside, in another snowy day, Anne reached through the car window and took a black bag from the glove compartment, handing it to her now husband.

“What is it?” He held on, swinging by the loop to feel the weight so he could find out what it could be.

“It's your wedding gift.” She cheerfully replied.

He stole one more kiss from his wife before opening the bag, already imagining what could be inside.

“It has our initials and today’s date on it,” she pointed to the bottom where the details were, “so no other girl coming out of court will need to offer you the lighter.”

Vincent took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it with his newest gift, but without inhaling, just lighting it for the sake of it.

“No one will have my love. Only you, mon chéri."

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict

(Sneak Peek)

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

A/N: okay, so, I have eleven chapters written so far but a lot of editing to do for this whole sha-bang. Here’s a cute little snippet for the Hot Lawyer Army. I told a white lie when I said the whole work in its entirety would be posted this week. (I am literally hot out of a writing work shop and legitimately whipped out a thesaurus and dictionary for this bad boy, like, who am I?)

In the quiet isolation where the Maleski family had sought refuge from the world, the tragic fall of Samuel Maleski unfolded into a legal and emotional labyrinth. Vincent Renzi, armed with the facts and facing the daunting task of defending Sandra, found himself navigating a case where the line between truth and perception blurred with every revelation.

Sandra, with her resolve wavering under the weight of public scrutiny, recounted the harrowing details to Vincent. Their conversations, often fraught with tension, revealed the complexities of her marriage to Samuel—a relationship marred by jealousy, ambition, and the tragic accident that had left their son, Daniel, blind.

As the case progressed, the absence of witnesses in their secluded life became a double-edged sword. Daniel's discovery of his father's fall, with no eyes to witness the tragedy and only the cold silence of the snow as his guide, painted a poignant picture of a family unraveled by misfortune.

During a brief respite from the intensity of legal preparations, Leah stepped outside for a breath of fresh Alpine air. The cold bit at her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the indoors. She was soon joined by Sandra, who, in a rare moment of vulnerability, offered Leah a cigarette. The two women, standing side by side against the backdrop of snow and solitude, shared a silence that spoke volumes.

It was Sandra who broke the quiet, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and defiance. "You remind me of a cat, you know. A black cat—slinky, chic, and a bit intimidating. But ultimately harmless." Her comparison, unexpected yet oddly accurate, drew a surprised laugh from Leah, the tension between them easing for the first time.

Leah took a slow drag, considering Sandra's words. "A black cat, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose. They're survivors, after all."

Sandra's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, a glimmer of the woman she might have been before tragedy had taken its toll. "Survivors, yes. But they're also misunderstood. Feared for no reason other than superstition."

The conversation, meandering between confessions and observations, offered Leah a glimpse into Sandra's soul—her fears, her regrets, and her defiant hope for vindication. For Sandra, the moment provided a rare connection, a sense of being seen beyond the accusations and the public persona crafted by the media and the court.

As they stamped out their cigarettes and turned to head back inside, the brief camaraderie forged in the Alpine chill left an indelible mark. For Leah, the case had transformed from a professional challenge into a personal crusade, not just for justice, but for understanding the complex tapestry of human relationships that the law so often sought to untangle.

And for Sandra, the encounter with Leah—a woman as out of place in the snow as a black cat, yet standing her ground—offered a flicker of hope. In the face of overwhelming odds, perhaps there were still those willing to look beyond the surface, to see the truth hidden in the shadows.

————————————————————————

As Vincent navigated the winding roads back to Paris, the fading light of the Alpine sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. Beside him, Leah sat wrapped in thought, the case of Sandra Maleski haunting her mind. The silence between them was comfortable, reflective of the trust and understanding that had developed over the course of their investigation.

Vincent broke the silence first, his voice steady against the hum of the engine. "Today was... revealing. Sandra's story, Daniel's perspective—it's like we're peeling back layers of truth hidden beneath layers of pain."

Leah nodded, turning to look at him. "It's more than just a legal battle; it's a fight for a family's soul. What struck me was Sandra's resilience, her ability to stand strong in the face of everything crumbling around her."

The conversation shifted naturally, as if the case had opened a door to more personal reflections. "You know," Vincent began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "working on cases like these, it makes me wonder about the choices we make... the lives we lead outside the courtroom."

Leah caught the introspective tone in his voice, sensing an invitation into a part of Vincent's world that had remained closed off. "I've been thinking about that too. Back in New York, my life was all about the next case, the next win. But being here, working with you—it's made me realize there's so much more to life than just winning cases."

Vincent glanced at Leah, her profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. "And yet, here you are, far from home, diving headfirst into a complex case in a foreign country. What drove you to take this leap?"

Leah smiled, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Adventure? Escape? Maybe a bit of both. I guess I was looking for something different... something meaningful. And I've found it, not just in the case, but in the connections we've made... with Sandra, with Daniel, and with you."

The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to the journey they had shared. Vincent felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of kinship with Leah that went beyond professional respect. "You know, Leah, I've spent so much of my life focused on the law, on being the best lawyer I can be. But meeting you, seeing your passion, your empathy... it's reminded me that being a great lawyer is also about understanding the human heart."

As the lights of Paris began to twinkle in the distance, marking their return to the city's vibrant energy, Vincent and Leah found themselves at a crossroads. The case that had brought them together was also quietly weaving their lives into shared experiences and newfound discoveries.

"Whatever happens with the case," Leah said, her gaze fixed on the approaching cityscape, "I'm grateful for this journey. For the chance to make a difference and for the friendship we've built along the way."

Vincent nodded, the city's familiar streets welcoming them back. "And I, for one, am grateful for the black cat that crossed my path," he added with a smile, acknowledging Sandra's earlier comparison and the unexpected luck it had brought into his life.

As they drove into the heart of Paris, the case awaiting them, Vincent and Leah knew they were no longer just colleagues. They were allies in the pursuit of justice, bound by the shared belief that beyond the legal battles lay the stories of real people, deserving of empathy, understanding, and a chance at redemption.

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Five

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, NSFW‼️

A/N: I heard your pleas and decided not to leave everyone hanging for days on end with the cliff hanger from the last chapter. Also there’s been some requests for an angry French/American/Leah/Vincent baby and though that’s not the direction I planned on going in, it’s very enticing.

Their first kiss was deep and passionate, a stark contrast to the urgency with which he helped her remove her jeans and underwear, maintaining contact with her skin. Trailing his lips down her collarbones and the valley between her breasts, he nipped at her tank top while his skilled fingers danced across her mound.

"Let me in," he whispered against her cheek, then captured her lips in a deep kiss. "Spread your legs and let me in."

With those words, she opened herself up, allowing him to run a finger through her silken folds.

"You're soaked," he observed, meeting her gaze as he licked her slick off his finger.

"Fuck me," Leah exhaled, her voice filled with desire. "Bed."

Vincent shook his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"Right here," he declared, swiftly removing his shirt as Leah fumbled with his belt. "Bed later.”

"Yeah?" Leah murmured, her breath hitching. "Later?"

“Later,” Vincent hiked her up against the wall by the backs of her thighs, “Tomorrow. The next day after that.”

In the narrow corridor between the bathroom and the bedroom, a newfound intensity surged between them, igniting a raw passion. He swiftly tugged down her tank top, exposing her breasts to him like a pair of precious offerings.

His control slipped away in the most delicious manner, his hands grasping and pulling at her, the taste of heavenly honey lingering on his fingertips and tongue.

With deliberate slowness, he pressed into her, her cunt enveloping him like a velvety vice, drawing him in gradually. Rolling his hips against hers, he pressed her against the wall, savoring the moment. He moaned against the soft skin of her neck, his body devoid of movement.

She had envisioned this scenario countless times, but the reality surpassed all expectations. Despite the inviting comfort of his bed only a few feet away bathed in gentle downy linens, their passion unfolded against the wall in a torrential downpour of desire, unlike anything Leah had ever imagined.

When he finally moved, fucking into Leah with form and precision, primal sounds escaped them both, echoing within the small space, encircling them. Their connection mingled unbridled passion with tender surrender. It wasn't until Leah followed his gaze downward, watching closely as he moved in and out of her cunt like a forbidden symphony, that she began to lose herself.

Locked in a gaze, Leah let out wanton moan. Vincent captured it with his mouth, his tongue entwining with hers.

"I'm going to cum," Leah managed to gasp, but Vincent persisted with unwavering intensity, his deep, firm strokes driving her towards release. As she surrendered, her head bowed, but Vincent swiftly lifted it with a gentle touch, his finger tracing the curve of her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. He watched her with reverence, as if she were a sacred relic, as if he could kneel in worship at her feet at that very moment.

"Beautiful," he murmured as Leah met his gaze.

He pressed against her in a staccato rhythm, his breathing growing ragged. Leah tilted her head to the side, observing him as he rutted against her neck. His eyes searched hers with a wild intensity before closing in ecstasy, his face scrunching, a grunt falling from his lips. She felt his release, a smile playing on his lips as his hips stilled.

Silently, Vincent carried her to the bed, gently lowering her as he positioned himself above her.

He chuckled, prompting her to playfully bury her face in her hands. As she attempted to shift position, he halted her movement.

"I, for one, am grateful for the black cat that crossed my path," he remarked with a smile, a nod to Sandra's earlier comparison and the unexpected turn of fortune she had brought into his life.

_________________________________________

Leah, wrapped in a robe and fresh from the shower, rejoined Vincent in the bedroom. He sat there, shirtless, leaning against the headboard, savoring the aftermath of their intimacy.

"I didn’t manipulate you into revealing your truths through sex, Vincent," Leah stated as she settled at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs. "I never expected our conversation to lead to... that."

"Are you saying that for my sake or yours?" Vincent teased, flashing Leah a playful smirk.

"Let me be honest," Leah paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't regret what happened between us. I regret that it followed my jealousy taking control."

"So, you were jealous," Vincent observed, raising an eyebrow as he stubbed his cigarette in the nearby ashtray on the bedside table.

Leah shook her head. "I felt lied to, entangled in a messy love triangle involving you, Sandra, and a dead man."

"You felt jealous," Vincent insisted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Maybe," Leah sighed. "But there's something here, isn't there?" She gestured between them. Awkward yet honest, Leah never shied away from expressing her thoughts, even if it took her a while to articulate them.

"There's something here," Vincent confirmed, easing Leah's uncertainties about the unspoken connection they shared—be it physical, emotional, or both.

"But there's also something between you and Sandra," Leah pressed, prompting Vincent to recount their history.

Vincent delved into his past with Sandra, recounting their chance meeting and subsequent encounters at a nearby café before her relationship with Samuel.

"Wait a second," Leah interjected, her brow furrowed in disbelief. "A few chance meetings at a café and you fell in love?"

Vincent paused, his gaze thoughtful. "It's not so simple. I became a part of her life. The café, late nights at bars, quiet corners of restaurants."

"Sandra brought Samuel into our café meetings one day," Vincent continued, recalling their growing bond and Sandra’s subsequent move to London. "Her communication was here and there once they moved, reaching out on her own terms."

Leah shook her head in reflection. "Now he's gone, and she's returned. And to add to the chaos, there's an intrusive American stirring the pot in your life."

"A welcome, jealous distraction," Vincent joked, his smile warm and teasing.

Leah shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "A black cat, a distraction. What will I be called next? A harbinger of death?"

Vincent chuckled, his hand reaching out to draw her closer. "I've been distracted since the day you stepped into my office. You could distract the sun from shining, you know?"

Leah's smile softened as she gazed at him, a flicker of uncertainty mingling with curiosity in her eyes, pondering the sincerity behind his words.

_________________________________________

"You not only manipulated this man into fucking you, but you let him get off in you?!" Kate's voice pierced through the phone, prompting Leah to quickly lower the volume in case any passerby overheard the heated conversation.

"It wasn't manipulation, Kate. I simply expressed what I had observed and felt," Leah defended herself, her tone resolute.

"No," Kate countered sharply, "you used your work and your supposed fear of 'unprofessionalism' to lure this man into bed."

"It was in the hallway, Kate," Leah clarified.

"Like it even fucking matters!" Kate's frustration rang out.

"You wanted me to fuck him, and I did. Now you're fixating on the details," Leah chuckled wryly as she turned onto the sidewalk, scanning for the pharmacy she sought. Stepping inside cautiously, she surveyed the store.

"Excusez-moi," Leah placed her phone on the counter in front of her, conversing with the pharmacist in hesitant French.

"I'm back," Leah announced to Kate, who picked up on the muffled voices and changing surroundings as Leah navigated her way back along the sidewalk towards Vincent's apartment.

"You suddenly speak French?" Kate's skepticism was evident in her voice.

"No," Leah laughed, "I rehearsed that in front of the mirror for two hours earlier. It's quite humbling to ask for Plan B in a language I don't know."

"The plot thickens. You'll be pregnant by the end of the month," Kate sighed.

Leah chuckled dryly, "Doubt it. Dr. Stevens is sending a prescription for the pill, which I can pick up next week."

"I suppose you'll be having Plan Bs for breakfast for the next week then, huh?" Kate's sarcasm crept into her question.

As Leah arrived at the apartment, she found Vincent poring over a legal folder at the kitchen table. With a quick goodbye to Kate, she ended the call.

"I was surprised you weren't here when I got back," Vincent remarked, looking up at Leah as she stood at the counter and opened the box.

"Sorry, I had to make a quick run to the pharmacy," she confessed, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. Swallowing the pill, she turned to find Vincent watching her intently from across the counter.

He picked up the box's torn packaging, his expression troubled. "I wouldn't have... you know, if I had known the risk." Vincent's gaze met Leah's, a hint of apology in his eyes.

Leah shook her head vigorously. "Let me be frank—I wanted you nowhere else but inside me." A mischievous smirk played on her lips as she met his gaze.

"Well, let me be frank— the thought of being there again has been on my mind all day," Vincent admitted, running his hand through his hair.

Leah chuckled softly. "Instead of being frank, how about you be Vincent and I'll be Leah?" Vincent approached her, pulling her closer. "Let's see where that takes us."

Vincent nodded, looking down at her, struck by the mystery of her presence in his life and grateful for the chance to have crossed paths with her.

Taglist: @weakling-grace

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Four

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of parental death, mentions of suicide, sexual themes.

A/N: happy Saturday! I have nothing to say except thank you to everyone who reached out with praise for this fic and urged me to continue. Big shout out to @luxlisbons who is constantly feeding me inspiration and listening to my neurotic ass. If you want to be added to my taglist, just let me know.

The arrangement that had begun as a matter of convenience had quickly transformed the dynamic between Leah and Vincent. Sharing Vincent's apartment brought them into a proximity that neither had anticipated, a closeness that underscored their days with an undercurrent of unspoken tension and unacknowledged attraction.

The mornings found them navigating the small kitchen together, a dance of shared spaces and quiet exchanges over coffee. These moments, charged with a palpable tension, were filled with lingering glances and the brush of fingers that neither could completely dismiss as accidental. The air between them was thick with something more than just the steam from the kettle—a budding desire that neither had yet dared to voice.

The first week bled into the second with ease as Leah and Vincent became acclimated as roommates. Leah, in the constant pursuit of finding a new temporary home, found herself discouraged each time she showed Vincent a listing.

“Bad neighborhood,” he would say, or “I don’t think that place suits you.”

Leah eventually gave up, falling asleep on the couch most nights when Vincent decided to work late in a quiet attempt to give him back his bedroom. Without failure, though, she would wake with Vincent asleep across from her on the chaise lounge. A testament to both their stubbornness.

As they delved deeper into the case, their evenings often stretched into late nights, with legal documents and books scattered across the living room table. The professional masks they wore during the day gradually slipped away in the privacy of their apartment, giving rise to laughter, shared stories, and the occasional bottle of wine that led their conversations from work to personal revelations.

"I've noticed the way you look at Daniel sometimes," Vincent broached the topic cautiously. "Do you have kids I don't know about?"

Leah shook her head, chuckling. "No, I just empathize with him. My mom... she committed suicide when I was a teenager. It's hard not to see his pain and not relate it back to my own."

Vincent nodded, his expression somber. "I'm sorry."

Leah waved off his apology with a smile. "Don't be sorry. I hate talking about it. I'm sorry I even brought it up."

Vincent shook his head. "It's okay. I appreciate glimpses into your world."

"What about you?" Leah inquired. "Any kids? Deceased parents? Any skeletons you want to share?"

"No kids that I know of. My mother is a publisher and very much alive. At least she was an hour ago," Vincent quipped.

"So that's who you were talking to. Sounded intense," Leah teased, referring to Vincent's animated phone call earlier.

Vincent chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Do you suddenly speak French?"

Leah shook her head, grinning. "Her tone was very motherly. She's quite loud."

"She can be nosy, but I always answer her calls. She keeps her distance," Vincent explained, blinking and clearing his throat.

"And your dad?" Leah probed. "Is he as nosy as your mom?"

"I wouldn't know," Vincent shrugged, meeting her gaze. "I've never met him."

Leah, suddenly embarrassed, felt the smallness and intimacy of the space they shared, shook her head, a tumble of apologies fell from her lips.

“It’s fine. Really.” Vincent reassured her, his hand reached out to pat her hand.

“Really put my foot in my mouth with that one.” She admitted with a nervous laugh.

“Is your dad alive?” Vincent asked, opening up the space to dive deeper.

“Unfortunately so,” Leah sighed, “at least he was the last time I checked.”

Leah grabbed her glass of wine sitting between the heap of legal papers on the coffee table, sipping generously from it.

“Long story.” Leah sighed and looked away from Vincent.

“I have time.” He said with a gentle smile.

_________________________________________

“Is it still awkward?” Kate's voice echoed from the phone resting on the kitchen table as Leah paced around the empty kitchen.

“No,” Leah admitted, “I mean, there have been a few incidents, but overall, it's not awkward.”

“Ooooh,” Kate quipped, “tell me more.”

Leah, her cheeks growing warmer with each passing moment as the memory replayed in her mind, sighed, “He was supposed to be out late for dinner with mom, so I decided to relax in the tub. The apartment was eerily quiet, and he just walked right into the bathroom while I was sprawled out like a stranded orca in the tub. We both just stared at each other, frozen in place, until he slammed the door and bolted. I wanted to waterboard myself!”

Kate burst into laughter as Leah covered her eyes.

“He kept apologizing profusely, and I begged him to pretend it never happened!” Leah rubbed her face and let out a sigh.

“There was also the time I peeled off my sweatshirt in the middle of the night and dozed off with a flimsy tank top on. I'm sure he got an eyeful then, but he was respectful about it. Unlike the time I woke up to find him in the kitchen, in his briefs, frying eggs, and it was staring at me, and I was staring at it. I had to step outside onto the balcony and pretend to admire the weather while I regained control.”

Kate, once again amused, cackled from her end of the call.

“Jesus Christ, Leah,” she exclaimed, “just fuck him already!”

Leah huffed and shook her head, “I highly doubt that will happen, Kate.”

“Nice people fuck every day, Leah,” Kate persisted.

“Maybe so, but not in this house,” Leah remained resolute. “Besides, he's kind. He went out and bought some apples when I mentioned that I like to snack on them in the middle of the night. I woke up one morning, and there was a bowl of them on the kitchen table.”

“You like him,” Kate remarked, her smile evident in her voice.

“As a roommate, yes,” Leah replied.

“I can picture you standing there, nervously biting your cuticles, pacing back and forth. You must be blushing like a dozen different shades of pink,” Kate teased, sensing Leah's inner turmoil.

“I told him about my mom last night,” Leah confessed softly, “and my dad and Charlotte.”

“Ah, yes, daddy and step-mother dearest,” Kate joked, “Eddie and Betty Machete. That's quite a load of baggage to unload on him.”

Leah shrugged, “He asked, and I told him. I'm pretty sure Charlotte isn't the first person to fuck and marry her best friend's husband. Ex-husband? It's still unsettling to me after all these years.”

“Did he share any juicy details with you?” Kate inquired.

“His mom had a fling in Ireland in the eighties and came back with him as a souvenir. He's never met his father,” Leah revealed.

“See, you've trauma bonded. Just make a move on him already!” Kate laughed.

“You're crazy. I have to go,” Leah playfully rolled her eyes.

“Don't call me back until you've fucked him!” Kate yelled out as Leah hung up.

_________________________________________

Leah was certain that Vincent was in love with Sandra. She had sensed it the first time she saw them together in Sandra's chalet kitchen. Vincent was making pasta, soothing her with soft coos as she cried over the triviality of Parmesan cheese. The day's drama had reached its peak as she sobbed into the open refrigerator door. It had seemed puzzling at that moment, but after spending so much time with Vincent and picking up on his little nuances, Leah was convinced. This realization became even clearer as she watched Sandra recount her meeting with Samuel through the camcorder's flipped screen.

"He was... he was one of the few people I knew who could change the atmosphere in a room just by walking in. I suppose that's what charm is, isn't it? I fell in love with his charm," Sandra said, reflecting on her feelings.

She spoke of not feeling understood by her family or friends growing up, of feeling truly seen only when Samuel came into her life. She longed for a time when that connection still existed, reminiscing on what was lost. Leah felt a deep resonance with Sandra's words, hanging on to every syllable as if Sandra was guiding her on a precarious tightrope, with the ground beneath widening, threatening to swallow her whole.

Vincent's lighter pinged from his seat near the window. Leah observed him lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out the open window.

"Don't say it's gone," Vincent urged Sandra, prompting her to share how she and Samuel first met. She briefly recounted how he had landed a job at a London university and how they had moved there together. She praised his teaching skills and his ability to make everything vibrant and accessible. However, despite all this, Samuel longed for more, as people naturally do. It seemed as though he had chased his dreams straight out the window. Sandra contrasted her own ease with writing to his struggles with time management when working on his novel. Then, she recounted Daniel's accident in vivid detail.

Nour nodded along as Vincent offered suggestions, while Leah sat motionless, pondering whether everyone had a defining crisis in their life that altered them forever.

During a brief respite, Leah stepped outside for a breath of fresh Alpine air. The cold bit at her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the indoors. She was soon joined by Sandra, who, in a rare moment of vulnerability outside of what Vincent had requested from her for the sake of the case, offered Leah a cigarette. The two women, standing side by side against the backdrop of snow and solitude, shared a silence that spoke volumes.

It was Sandra who broke the quiet, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and defiance. "You remind me of a cat, you know. A black cat—slinky, chic, and a bit intimidating. But ultimately harmless." Her comparison, unexpected yet oddly accurate, drew a surprised laugh from Leah, the tension between them easing.

Leah took a slow drag, considering Sandra's words. "A black cat, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose. They're survivors, after all."

Sandra's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, a glimmer of the woman she might have been before tragedy had taken its toll. "Survivors, yes. But they're also misunderstood. Feared for no reason other than superstition."

The conversation, meandering between confessions and observations, offered Leah a glimpse into Sandra's soul—her fears, her regrets, and her defiant hope for vindication. For Sandra, the moment provided a rare connection, a sense of being seen beyond the accusations and the public persona crafted by the media and the court.

As they stamped out their cigarettes and turned to head back inside, the brief camaraderie forged in the Alpine chill left a mark on both of them.

_________________________________________

It was Vincent who suggested that Leah ride back to Paris with Nour before it got too late. He wanted to have a private conversation with Sandra, and although Leah felt a tug in her chest and her internal monologue firing on all cylinders, she didn't resist much. "Attorney-client privileges," she told herself, even though she couldn't recall ever sharing a drink or personal history with the people she had represented.

Nour chattered about the case for most of the journey back, while Leah tried her best to engage in the conversation. However, it was evident that something was amiss. Leah couldn't quite pinpoint what it was or why she felt the way she did.

The apartment was dimly lit when Leah returned, with only a few rays of light streaming through the kitchen window, casting a stripe across the living room. She quickly shed the day away by washing her face and changing into an old collegiate sweatshirt before settling on the couch with a glass of Chablis to unwind. As she slowly drained the bottle of Chablis, she reflected on the weeks spent with Vincent and Sandra. Their dynamic became increasingly clear in her mind, stirring a jealousy within Leah that she had only experienced as a teenager caught in the turmoil of an unfaithful father and an emotionally unstable mother years ago.

"Ancient history," Vincent's words echoed in Leah's thoughts.

As she drifted off to sleep, the last thought on Leah's mind was what was truly unfolding in Sandra's home and why it was affecting her so deeply.

________________________________________

Leah, never a heavy sleeper, was immediately awoken by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Despite Vincent's attempts to be quiet, his efforts were useless. Slowly sitting up on the couch, she switched on the tableside lamp as the bathroom sink began to run. A few moments later, Vincent emerged in the living room, offering her an apologetic smile as he observed her rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" Leah asked, to which Vincent nodded in response.

"What's the dynamic between you and Sandra?" Leah shifted on the couch, observing as Vincent's eyebrows arched upwards in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" Vincent questioned, tilting his head. "I'm her lawyer."

"I'm not stupid, Vincent." For some reason, Leah felt compelled to delve deeper. "You paid her for bail."

Vincent, confused by Leah's sudden change in tone and line of questioning, gave her a quizzical look. "Only a portion of it."

Displeased with his response, Leah shook her head. "I wouldn't go to such lengths for a client."

"She's a friend," Vincent explained.

"‘Ancient history,’” Leah echoed his words back at him. “You don’t describe a friend as ‘ancient history.’”

��What's the matter? Why does it concern you?” Vincent inquired, slightly puzzled, moving closer to where she was seated on the couch.

"It just struck me earlier as I reflected on the past few weeks that something hasn't felt right, like I'm on the outside looking in. But then I saw the way you looked at her earlier. And then it hit me," Leah said, casting a heavy glance at Vincent.

"What hit you? What are you trying to say?" Vincent asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you defending her because you genuinely believe she's innocent, or because your feelings for her have clouded your judgment?" Leah questioned.

"I'm standing up for her because she's my friend, Leah. Because I believe in her innocence," Vincent explained.

A bitter laugh escaped Leah. "Friendship can blind us, Vincent. We're trained to read people as lawyers, but sometimes the truth is staring us in the face."

Leah shook her head incredulously. "And you sent me down the mountain with Nour. Usually, you want me right there with you, just to have another perspective."

Vincent's eyes widened in disbelief. "Leah, what is this really about?"

Leah's tone turned sharp. “If there's something between you and her, I need to know. I want to trust your judgment, not your feelings."

Vincent shook his head, frustration evident. He pushed his hair back, a mix of emotions crossing his face.

Leah's voice softened, yet held a steely edge. "Did you fuck her tonight? Was that why you sent me home early?"

"What if I did?" Vincent retorted, noticing the jealousy etched on Leah's face. "How would that concern you?"

Leah stood up abruptly, tossing aside the blanket on the couch as she stormed past Vincent and into the bedroom.

"Enough of this," Leah exclaimed as she rummaged through her suitcase. "I refuse to be a part of this. It's unprofessional, and I want no part in it. You can do as you please, but I'm leaving."

She hastily slipped into a pair of jeans while Vincent observed her from the hallway. Brushing past him again, she retrieved her belongings from the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Vincent inquired, looking puzzled.

"I'm leaving," she replied, stuffing her suitcase full.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"To a hotel, maybe a hostel," Leah replied, pulling the sweatshirt over her head and tossing it into the suitcase, leaving her in a thin tank top. "I don't know."

Vincent approached her as she struggled to close and zip her overflowing suitcase, its contents spilling out haphazardly as she packed in a frenzy.

"What's gotten into you?" he questioned. "What's all this about?"

"I don't know, I just—" Leah paused, meeting his gaze, her eyes searching his face. "It hit me today that you're so blindly in love with her that if she had pushed Samuel out the window in front of you, you'd defend her to the end."

He grasped her shoulders, drawing her closer as he looked into her eyes intently.

"Do you want me to fuck you? Is that what this is about?" he asked, his expression serious despite the taboo nature of his question.

"That's exactly it," Vincent shook his head as he spoke. With nimble fingers, he swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans.

"Say it," he paused, looking up at her. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to look at me like that," Leah confessed. Despite her uncertainty, she let her emotions guide her, baring her soul to the man before her.

"I do," Vincent murmured, drawing her closer. "I have. I am."

Taglist: @weakling-grace

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Two

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of death, awkward OC, it’s pretty mild at this point. if you’ve seen Anatomy of a Fall, you basically know what’s about to happen.

A/N: if you’re back for chapter two, welcome back. Swann Arlaud at the Oscars actually recoded my DNA. imagine writing 11 whole chapters and then literally going back and completely re-writing them- that’s what I’ve been doing with this story. I won’t be following along word for word with the plot of the movie, nor will I be recounting everything perfectly. I tried that (I’ve watched Anatomy literally 4 times to the point that I actually dreamt in French one night) also huge shoutout to my friend @luxlisbons for her support and a huge shoutout to the dictionary and thesaurus that have basically become my Bible. also if you want to be tagged when I post the upcoming chapters, just let me know.

Vincent glanced across the office space to find Leah seated on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic array of case files. She appeared lost in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're quiet," Vincent remarked, making his way over to her.

Leah looked up, a hint of frustration evident in her eyes. "Would be nice if I could speak French. It's taking double the time when I have to translate all this."

Vincent reached out and took the report from her hands, flipping it over to reveal a series of photos on the back. "There are pictures on the back, you know?" he pointed out. "This autopsy report is inconclusive at this point. He supposedly fell from the third floor window."

Leah, feeling a glimmer of hope, asked, "Have you interviewed her yet?"

Vincent nodded. "I went to see her the day before you arrived."

"And?" Leah inquired, hoping for a breakthrough.

Vincent's expression remained somber. "A man is dead," he stated matter-of-factly. "Was that lost in translation?"

Leah shook her head, the weight of the case pressing down on her shoulders. She returned to the pile of files before her, determined to unravel the mystery that lay within.

________________________________________

“Do you eat?” Vincent’s voice rang out, startling Leah from her place on the floor. She chuckled, her concentration finally broken after hours of sifting through each piece of evidence Vincent had presented her with.

“Sometimes I do,” she joked, standing to stretch, her shirt riding up enough for Vincent to see a stripe of her stomach.

“Do you plan on eating today?” Vincent asked, perplexed by how she must be running on fumes considering the time she had spent unmoving.

Leah’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “Probably should,” she sighed. “I’m starving.”

With a grin, Vincent guided her to a cafe across the road and down the street. Over a course of croque monsieur and a few cups of coffee, the two lawyers exchanged glances and subtle smiles.

“You’re quiet again,” Vincent's voice broke through the silence, his eyes studying Leah's thoughtful expression as she gazed out the window.

Leah’s lips curved into a small smile. “Sorry,” she said, her fingers absently tapping on the table.

“Lost in translation again?” he joked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Leah shook her head, her gaze returning to meet his. “No, just lost in general. Jet-lagged,” she admitted with a tired laugh.

“So, you passed the Bar on your first try?” Vincent asked, leaning back in his chair, his curiosity evident.

Leah nodded, a proud glint in her eyes. “I did, yeah,” she replied, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “How does that work here? What’s the process of becoming a lawyer?”

“Law students sit for the Bar exam at the end of a Master's degree,” Vincent explained, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point.

Leah nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. “So we’re not that different,” she mused, a small smile playing on her lips.

Vincent chuckled softly. “As far as having things in common, you and I have both passed the Bar exam, yes,” he agreed.

Leah shifted in her seat, fidgeting with a napkin. “I’m not good at this,” she gestured between the two of them, “talking about myself.”

Vincent’s laughter filled the air between them. “That’s okay,” he reassured her with a nod.

Suddenly, the cafe grew busier, the hum of conversation surrounding them. Vincent noticed the change and turned his attention back to Leah.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, his tone gentle and curious.

Leah met his gaze, a hint of gratitude in her eyes. “Uh, Saint Germain?” she replied, blushing embarrassingly at her American way of pronouncing the name.

Vincent nodded, his expression unchanging. “Do you want me to walk you home so you can get some sleep?” he offered, his sincerity evident.

Leah's eyes widened in surprise, touched by his kindness. “You don’t mind?” she asked, a softness in her voice.

Vincent shook his head, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with warmth and understanding.

________________________________________

Leah glanced at the phone resting on the bed amidst a pile of discarded shirts, her brow furrowed. "It’s awkward," she began, her voice tinged with uncertainty, "I mean, it's not a language barrier issue because he speaks English well. But yesterday at lunch, he was trying to make conversation, and I was completely lost in my own thoughts. The whole interaction felt off, and now I have to endure hours in a car with him to go meet the defendant and her son in the middle of nowhere."

A voice emanated from the phone, cutting through Leah's musings. "Maybe it's just your awkward charm," it teased, provoking a scoff from Leah. "I'm not awkward, Kate. I'm just observant. There's a lot to be learned by listening, you know?"

As Leah slipped into a long-sleeved top and checked her reflection in the mirror behind the bedroom door, she heard Kate's next question. "Is he good looking?" Leah chuckled softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yes, he is."

Kate's curiosity didn't stop there. "Do you think she's guilty?" Leah pondered the question, her gaze drifting to the phone in her hand as she mulled over the case details. "I'm not certain," she replied thoughtfully, "but given my track record with men, it's hard to distinguish between genuine intentions and hidden motives."

The abrupt sound of the doorbell pierced through the apartment, causing Leah to startle. "And now he's here to pick me up," she muttered, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling in her gut. "I'll fill you in on everything tomorrow," she promised before ending the call.

_________________________________________

The journey from the vibrant heart of Paris to the serene, imposing presence of the French Alps served as a physical and metaphorical transition for Vincent and Leah. As they navigated the winding mountain roads, Leah's gaze was drawn to the changing landscape, her mind a whirlwind of anticipation and uncertainty about the case and her role in it.

Vincent, for his part, found his attention intermittently captured by Leah when he allowed himself to take the seat of the neutral observer—her dark brown hair reflecting the sunlight, her compact, curvy figure a stark contrast to the sprawling, rugged beauty outside the car window. It was an awareness he couldn't quite shake, an acknowledgment of her beauty and the energy she brought into his carefully structured world. Leah, for her part, glanced at Vincent as her eyes roamed across the changing scenery around them, letting them dart across his side profile, the slope of his nose, the lines etched around his distinctive eyes.

The time they had spent together had been consumed by meticulous details regarding the case and its sordid details, not allowing any time for pleasantries outside of what Leah’s resume held, and what little information she was able to gather about Vincent from a rigorous google search. Besides the conversation the day prior in the cafe, they were still relatively strangers to one another.

Arriving at Sandra's secluded home, they were greeted by a scene of tranquil isolation, the peace of the valley juxtaposed with the storm brewing within its inhabitants. Sandra, with her guarded demeanor and measured greetings, presented a figure of resilience, her German accent marking her words with precision as she navigated the conversation in her adopted language.

Leah's interaction with Daniel, Sandra's son, and the family dog, Snoop, was most shocking to Vincent. Leah's gentle, unassuming approach won Daniel over, her laughter and warmth cutting through the reserve that had initially greeted them. Vincent observed these interactions with a growing appreciation for Leah's natural empathy and the ease with which she connected with Sandra and Daniel, despite the shadows that hung over the household.

The discussion of the case took on a new dimension as Leah's presence seemed to soften the edges of the tense atmosphere. Her insights into the case brought fresh perspectives that even Vincent had to acknowledge were invaluable. Yet, it wasn't just her professional contributions that caught his attention; it was the way the alpine light danced in her hazel eyes, the genuine concern etched on her porcelain skin, and the graceful way she moved through space.

As the day wore on, Vincent found himself increasingly aware of Leah—not just as a colleague but as a woman who intrigued him.

The visit to Sandra's home, intended to deepen their understanding of the case, ended up opening up a dialogue into one another’s thought processes. The sum of which came to fruition as the moonlight illuminated sharply against the car’s hood.

Vincent's voice cut through the silence inside the car, breaking the rhythm of the road beneath them. "Who are you exactly?" he inquired, stealing a quick glance in her direction before refocusing on the winding path ahead. A puzzled expression settled upon her face as she met his gaze, her features momentarily frozen in confusion.

A soft, genuine laugh bubbled from her lips. "What?" she responded, the musical lilt of her voice betraying her confusion at his question.

"They were hanging on your every word back there," Vincent remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Sandra's a tough nut to crack, but you seemed to have opened her up a little."

"I could barely get a word out of you yesterday," Vincent added with a chuckle, his eyes back on the road.

"Sandra," Leah began, her voice taking on a more serious tone as she turned to face him, "How do you know her?"

Vincent's reply was brief, a pause punctuating his words. "Old friends. Ancient history."

A thoughtful expression crossed Leah’s face as she considered his response. "You know what they say about history?" she mused, her gaze steady as Vincent fell silent.

Vincent's brows furrowed slightly. "What do you know about ancient history?" he countered, a smirk playing on his lips.

"That it has a way of repeating itself," Leah responded cryptically, her words hanging in the air like a lingering mystery.

Vincent's laughter filled the car, mingling with the hum of the engine. "For someone who's usually so quiet, you seem to have a lot of insight into things you claim not to know," he observed, his eyes glinting with a newfound curiosity.

As doubt crept into Leah’s mind, she pondered the implications of her words and the connection between ancient history and the present moment. Little did she know that the echoes of the past were about to resurface in ways she could never have foreseen.

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Six

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, NSFW‼️, mentions of religion, see prev. tags.

A/N: we’re taking a brief hiatus from Sandra and her drama in The Alps to focus on Leah and Vincent. I’m playing with the timeline at this point, but who really cares? I have a cutesy little playlist I’m cultivating for these two so if anyone has a suggestion or a song that reminds you of our two love birds, please send it my way. As always, I love your comments, the anons, the unhinged way you guys have responded to this fic. I’m humbled and love each and every one of you! And a huge thanks to @luxlisbons for giving this her stamp of approval. This fic would have never happened if it wasn’t for her and the horny lawyer anon.

Leah moaned softly, her hands tightly gripping the headboard, urging him on. Starting initially with her cheek pressed against his pillow and her ass arched ungracefully in the air, Vincent’s assault had caused her to flee, taking purchase against the headboard. She clutched the wood grain with intensity as his nose parted her from behind, eating her as if he were famished.

“Don't stop," she pleaded, her legs trembling as he continued his assault, kneading the tender flesh of her ass as he dipped a finger into her, working the sensitive spot with his long, arched finger.

"Gonna cum," she gasped, and he responded with a satisfied hum against her soaked cunt as she arched her head back, her long hair cascading down her back and brushing against Vincent's forehead. As she released, he eagerly accepted her offering, savoring her taste and the intensity of it all.

Feeling the steady rhythm of Vincent working himself against the back of her thigh, she reached behind and gently stroked his ash-gray hair.

"Come here," she beckoned, rolling over so he could slot himself between her legs. His flushed cheeks and hitched breath betrayed his desire as he gazed down at her.

"Inside," she whispered, guiding his pulsating cock towards her cunt.

He hesitated briefly, his hardened length brushing against her thigh. "Leah," he cautioned, but she shook her head determinedly.

Reaching for the discarded packet on the nightstand, she shook it in reassurance. "It's been five days. We're safe," she declared, tossing the pill packet back casually.

As he reflected on a three weeks filled with shared moments of intimacy, of finger fucking her on the couch, eating her until she cried on the kitchen counter, mutually pleasuring one another in the shower, the nastiest blow job he had ever received when they were alone in his office, he yearned for more than just fleeting encounters. With a silent prayer, he slowly entered her, hoping that five days would be sufficient protection.

As they both sighed in unison, Vincent wrapped a loose hand around her neck, drawing her close for a tender kiss to anchor them together.

"Can you cum again?" he inquired, seeking her confirmation.

"I don't think I've ever stopped," she replied with a hint of amusement.

Nodding, he resumed his movements, each deliberate thrust eliciting a pleasurable response. With a final deep thrust, he stilled, his expression contorted in ecstasy as a soft grunt escaped his lips.

Resting against Leah, he nestled his face against her neck and shoulder. She ran her hands through his hair, savoring the closeness as they lay intertwined, basking in each other's presence without the need for words.

________________________________________

“You’re quiet,” Vincent observed, his gaze drifting over the laptop screen that separated him from Leah as he lounged on the chaise across from her. Engrossed in a stack of case files, he had taken to reviewing a matter one of his associates was handling, offering advice and guidance as needed. With the lack of new evidence and the legal proceedings at a standstill for close to a month in Sandra’s case, he kept his hands occupied, often finding solace in Leah’s presence.

Leah popped an AirPod out and flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, one of my friends is going through a divorce and wanted me to review their custody agreement.”

“I forget you have a life outside of this,” Vincent quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Believe it or not, I do exist outside of this. I have a job, friends, and family,” Leah teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll have to return to the real world eventually, you know?”

“International law, huh? Why the sudden interest?” Vincent inquired, choosing to focus on her career shift rather than delve into the aspect of her eventual departure from France.

“I guess I just needed a change of scenery. Besides, with the current state of women’s rights in America, I can't see myself staying there for long,” Leah confessed, her tone tinged with determination.

“Perhaps France would be a nice place to settle,” Vincent suggested with a playful raise of his eyebrow.

Leah countered with a grin, “I was leaning more towards Italy. The termites and bed bugs here are not quite my cup of tea.”

“Not to mention the French being a bit... prickly,” she added, earning a chuckle from Vincent.

“À bon chat, bon rat,” Vincent quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It took Leah a moment to decipher the French phrase before she rolled her eyes at his playful banter. To a good cat, a good rat indeed.

“What’s with the French and their obsession with cats?” Leah inquired, genuinely curious.

Vincent’s smile widened as he confessed, “My black cat, perhaps.”

Leah blushed, playfully retorting, “So, are you the rat in this scenario?”

“More like Master Splinter,” Vincent joked, dodging the throw pillow she aimed at him with a laugh.

__________________________________________

"Do you have anything suitable for a dinner party?" Vincent inquired as Leah emerged from around the corner, her hair still damp from a recent shower.

"Maybe?" Leah responded, a hint of confusion in her expression. "Why do you ask?"

Running a hand through his hair, Vincent explained, "My mom is throwing a party for her retirement and has invited us."

"Us?" Leah raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain she meant both of us?"

Vincent nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "She's eager to meet my roommate."

Leah shot him a knowing look. "I'm sure that's exactly what she said."

"Something along those lines," Vincent admitted with a chuckle.

An hour later, Leah made her way into the kitchen where Vincent was seated at the bar. She had opted for a simple black off-the-shoulder dress that fell gracefully just below her knees, paired with ankle boots. Her long hair was elegantly styled in a low bun, with a few loose curls framing her face. Her makeup was understated yet chic, exuding effortless elegance.

Vincent rose from his seat, his gaze appreciative. "You look stunning."

Leah teased, "And you, Mr. Turtleneck. Slacks too? This must be a fancy affair."

"It's always a guessing game with my mother," Vincent remarked, leading Leah out the door as they embarked on their journey into the heart of Paris.

___________________________________________

"This painting used to terrify me when I was a child," Vincent remarked, pointing to the gauche artwork in the foyer as they entered his mother's apartment.

Leah studied the painting, tilting her head in contemplation, trying to decipher its meaning.

"Is this a metaphor for something?" she inquired, and Vincent simply shrugged in response.

On a plain canvas, a woman was depicted writhing in ecstasy while a heavily tentacled squid devoured her body.

"It's a metaphor for my mother's eccentricity," Vincent half-jokingly remarked as he guided Leah further into the apartment.

The opulent apartment buzzed with conversation, guests mingling from one group to the next. The windows were all wide open, allowing the sweet spring breeze to dance through the sheer curtains. The space was a blend of eclectic decor yet exuded the charm of old Parisian elegance.

A meticulously arranged table in the center of the room displayed the books that Vincent's mother had helped edit and publish, surrounded by various awards placed with care.

Vincent handed Leah a glass of champagne, and she took a generous sip. Suddenly, a man appeared, clapping Vincent on the shoulder. They embraced, and Leah discreetly stepped back, observing the moment unfold. As the man extended his hand to Leah, she looked to Vincent, puzzled.

"This is Tim, my stepfather," Vincent introduced.

Tim gallantly kissed Leah's hand, and she stifled a chuckle.

"The American," Tim remarked.

"The German," Leah retorted playfully.

Tim chuckled. "There was a war fought between us once."

"We can take this outside, if you’d like," Leah quipped with a grin.

Vincent redirected the conversation, inquiring, "Where is the guest of honor?"

"I'm not sure," Tim admitted, and Leah detected the scent of vodka on his breath as she subtly stepped back.

"Actually," Tim interjected, leading Vincent away, "come have a look at this." Vincent turned back, throwing Leah an apologetic look which she waved off.

As she made her way through the crowd, stepping out onto one of the balconies, she sighed.

A voice emerged from the shadows behind Leah, speaking quietly in French.

Startled, Leah turned around. "I didn't mean to startle you," the voice apologized.

As she stepped into the light spilling from the party, the woman before her offered an appraising smile. She appeared to be in her sixties, with reddish-tinted hair and a chic wrap dress.

"Is Tim singing yet?" The lady inquired.

"Is he supposed to?" Leah responded.

"He will start. He always does," the lady informed her. "If he's had vodka, he will sing."

Extending her hand, she introduced herself, "Joan Renzi."

Leah shook her hand firmly. "Leah Bardin."

"Funny," Joan remarked as she lit a cigarette, "I pictured you as a blonde."

"Sorry to disappoint," Leah chuckled.

"No, no," Joan replied, handing Leah a cigarette and lighting it for her, "not disappointed in the slightest."

The conversation between the two women flowed effortlessly. An hour had passed as they bantered back and forth, exchanging sarcastic remarks and jokes. Champagne continued to flow, with an unknown lady bringing glass after glass to Leah and Joan. Leah appeared visibly tipsy, while Joan stood firmly at the railing.

"Are you a Virgo?" Joan asked suddenly, squinting at Leah.

"God, no," Leah scoffed, "I'm a Capricorn."

"Ah," Joan nodded, "you know Jesus was a Capricorn. Or an Aries, depending on how you look at it."

Leah shook her head. "You must forgive me, I'm not big on fiction."

"I'm not big on fiction either," Joan remarked, laughing at Leah’s bold response, "or Virgos. Though I've never been into astrology, I do know I don't like Virgos."

"That's fair," Leah replied. "How do you feel about cats?" Leah inquired, eager to share the running joke with Joan.

Joan nodded, taking a sip of her champagne. "I got a cat when Vincent was around six. She was as black as the night sky with piercing green eyes. He carried her everywhere, even attempting to take her to school one day. He cherished her deeply."

"She died after he left for university. She was quite old, maybe fifteen or sixteen," Joan recounted, offering Leah another cigarette, which she accepted with a smile. "He skipped a week's worth of classes to come home and give her a proper burial at our country house."

Leah, taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation after an hour of light-hearted banter, spoke up, "He refers to me as a black cat. The comparison being that I'm chic, slinky, intimidating, yet ultimately harmless like a black cat."

Joan appeared both puzzled and entertained, "I'd take that as the highest compliment, especially coming from the boy who adored a black cat throughout his adolescence."

Leaning against the railing, mirroring Leah's posture, Joan added, "He is quite smitten with you, you know?"

Leah fell silent, contemplating her response, as Joan smiled knowingly into the Parisian night.

As the singing commenced, Joan rolled her eyes and disappeared between the sheer curtains, making her way towards Tim's swaying figure.

Just then, Vincent appeared in front of Leah. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright and slightly glazed.

"Hi," Leah greeted him with a smile.

"Are you ready to go?" he inquired, "Tim's singing signals that the party is over. My mother will wrangle him to bed and disappear."

Leah chuckled softly. "They're an odd couple."

Vincent nodded in agreement.

"Do you want to walk home? It's a beautiful night," Vincent suggested as he guided Leah towards the door.

"Aren't we going to say goodbye?" Leah glanced back as Joan and Tim twirled away from the prying eyes of their guests.

"I'll call her tomorrow," Vincent assured Leah.

With slightly unsteady steps, Leah walked beside Vincent towards his apartment.

"My feet are always the dead giveaway that I'm drunk," Leah confessed, and Vincent flashed a warm smile at her.

"Yours are your cheeks. They turn the cutest shade of pink," Leah reached over and gently brushed her thumb across his cheek.

He caught her wrist, halting in his tracks. Tenderly, he pressed a kiss on her pulse point, pulling her closer as he leaned against a brick retaining wall. Cupping her face, he traced his thumbs across the curve of her cheeks.

"You just don't see it, do you?" he whispered, his voice filled with emotion, his eyes mirroring the intensity as they locked with hers.

Leah swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

Then, without another word, Vincent stood up, grasping her hand and leading her back to his apartment, the unspoken words lingering in the air between them.

The atmosphere shifted as they stepped into the apartment. Vincent, typically one to tread lightly, to cater to Leah's needs and desires, seized control. He gently pressed her against the closed door, locking eyes with her, intertwining their hands and holding them against his chest.

In a heartbeat, they found themselves on the bed, Leah lying on her back. Vincent, with tenderness, slid one boot off and then the other, caressing her foot with care, planting kisses on her ankle and shin. Leah observed him intently, admiring his carefulness and the admiration he undertook when touching her.

As Leah reached to undo his belt buckle, Vincent delicately redirected her hands, placing them on her chest. "We have all the time in the world," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with affection.

His gentle fingers traced under her dress, skimming along her thighs, deftly removing her thong in one fluid motion, his lips trailing the path where the lace had been. With swift movements, her dress was off her shoulders, revealing her vulnerability to him. Feeling a sudden wave of shyness, she closed her eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded gently as he removed his shirt.

Following his lead, Leah watched as he undid his belt, shedding his slacks and briefs in a single motion.

He was hard, painfully so, his pink tip leaking.

Leah's hips involuntarily arched as he positioned himself above her on the bed, planting a trail of kisses and nibbles along her skin. She anticipated his destination; he had been a constant presence between her legs for nearly three weeks by then.

"No," Leah croaked, her hands bracing against Vincent's shoulders. "I want you. I don't want your hands or your mouth. I need you inside me," she spoke with newfound boldness, fueled by the champagne.

Vincent, taken aback yet pleased by her admission, returned to hover over her, meeting her gaze filled with longing for connection and intimacy.

"You never have to beg," he whispered, tenderly kissing her lips, a gesture she eagerly reciprocated.

Rising to his knees, Vincent gazed down at her before drawing her legs towards him. Methodically, he positioned them over his shoulders, relishing the anticipation reflected in her widened eyes and sly smile.

Leaning in close, his lips brushing hers, he entered her slowly, fully, their bodies merging in a dance of passion and desire. As their rhythm intensified, pleasure and a hint of pain intertwined, pushing them to the brink of ecstasy.

After a fervent exchange, Leah, consumed by a mix of pleasure and tension, released a breathless moan through clenched teeth as she came hard.

Vincent, attuned to her unspoken desires and sensing the tension in her muscles, gently unwound her legs and intertwined them around his waist.

His hand tenderly encircled her throat, a familiar gesture she recognized as his own, as he drew her in for a deep, passionate kiss. Moving with deliberate slowness, he entered her, his hips moving in a mesmerizing rhythm that stroked the sweet spot deep within her.

"Deep," she moaned, guiding his hand to rest atop her lower stomach. "You fill me completely. You make me whole."

In that moment, she surrendered, cumming effortlessly as if she were drifting on a sea of clouds. Witnessing her vulnerability and hearing her heartfelt words, Vincent felt a surge of emotion, pulling her close and letting out a low groan as he reached his peak, spilling deeply inside of her.

They lay entwined, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle as moonlight painted their features in a soft, ethereal glow.

Leah's touch was feather-light as she reached out to caress his cheek, her voice a mere whisper in the stillness. "How am I ever going to leave you?”

Vincent's smile was tender as he reached out to stroke her cheek, “You won’t.”

Taglist: @weakling-grace

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Three

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, parental death, BUGS: termites & bedbugs (never thought I’d type that but here we are)

A/N: I’d like to state that I’m sure AOAF happened in Grenoble but I’m a dumb American with no sense of direction or geography so Vincent lives in Paris. If you want to be added to my tag-list, just let me know. The slow burn is almost over!

The next day dawned with a sense of urgency as Leah and Vincent pulled up to Sandra's home where the reenactment was already underway. They were greeted by a scene of controlled chaos, with a dummy resembling Samuel being repeatedly tossed from the third-story window, its impact splattering crimson onto the pristine snow below. A meticulous spatter analyst, handpicked by Vincent, observed each drop with a focused intensity, recording her observations in a worn legal notebook.

Leah couldn't help but shudder at the display. "This is morbid," she whispered to Vincent as they navigated through the maze of investigators.

As the investigation unfolded, accompanied by the unrelenting drone of a repetitive tune, Vincent's frustration mounted at the treatment of his client and her son. Leah, feeling a mix of curiosity and confusion, observed the shifting dynamics with a growing sense of unease.

When Daniel's testimony suddenly veered off course upon the discovery of misplaced gaffer's tape, a ripple of anticipation swept through the room. Judge Janvier's satisfaction was palpable, but a shared glance between Vincent and Leah hinted at a deeper understanding of the looming challenges ahead.

The remainder of the day unfolded in a haze of disappointment, leaving Leah grappling with unresolved questions as she sought solace in a bottle of wine at home. The silence that had enveloped their car ride back was a comforting reassurance, a shared space where thoughts intermingled and strategies took shape in the quiet hum of contemplation.

_________________________________________

"And you're doing okay given the circumstances?" Leah's therapist's calming voice resonated from the laptop on the dining room table the next morning.

"The circumstances?" Leah called out from the kitchen, taking a sip of her freshly brewed coffee before padding back into the room to settle into the high back chair. Thankfully, both of their cameras were off, shielding June from seeing Leah's unfocused demeanor.

"The circumstances of the case," June clarified.

"I'm fine. My mom killed herself and that’s all there is to say about it. She left a detailed note. I've found closure. This man was either thrown out of a window or jumped, so it's a bit different. Not everything hits close to home, you know?" Leah replied, trying to downplay the emotional weight of the situation.

"It's important to acknowledge and respect your trauma, understand your limits, and be mindful of triggers that may affect you," June advised, her tone carrying a hint of foreboding, as if hinting at an impending breakdown.

"Sure thing. If I ever feel like taking a leap out the window, I'll give you a call. Otherwise, I'll touch base next week. Thanks, June!" Leah swiftly closed the laptop before June could interject, her attention abruptly diverted by a sharp knock on the front door.

"Can I help you?" Leah questioned as she opened the door to find a mysterious man standing there, who promptly handed her an envelope before hurriedly departing.

Perplexed, Leah shut the door and tore open the envelope, revealing “NOTICE TO VACATE" stamped on the legal document inside.

Just as she processed the unexpected notice, the doorbell chimed once more. Annoyed, Leah swung the door open, ready to confront the messenger of the unwelcome letter, only to be met by a puzzled Vincent.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Vincent inquired, his expression tinged with mild exasperation.

Confused, Leah ushered him inside and checked her phone, noticing three missed calls she had overlooked.

"I'm sorry, I thought we weren't meeting until eleven?" Leah apologized, adjusting her silk robe as she led Vincent to the kitchen table.

"Sandra was indicted an hour ago," Vincent revealed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table's surface. "Get dressed, and I'll brief you."

As Leah disappeared into the bedroom, Vincent glanced at the document she had left behind and discovered the reason for the sudden eviction: termites.

"They're kicking you out because of termites," Vincent called out, prompting a bewildered response from Leah in the other room.

"They're offering a full refund if you vacate within thirty days," Vincent continued, scanning the letter's contents.

"I'll never find a new place in my budget in such a short time," Leah lamented from the bedroom.

"You probably got a great deal on this place because of the termite issue," Vincent remarked with a chuckle.

"I figured it would have been bedbugs, honestly," Leah joked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she reappeared in the living room, fully dressed and ready to take on the day.

_________________________________________

The ride to the cafe was swift as Vincent explained the details to Leah. "The public prosecutor’s statement contained three elements in particular," he said, his voice tinged with urgency. "Analyses of Samuel’s blood spatter found at the home indicate that he may have received a blunt force blow to the head before he fell from the window. The reenactment brought to light a number of discrepancies, which you are fully aware of, and there was a USB file discovered belonging to Samuel containing a recording made a couple of days before his death."

"A USB file? Have you listened to it?" Leah questioned, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Yes, and it’s…" Vincent's voice trailed off, his gaze distant. "damning."

Leah let out a measured sigh as Vincent parked the car, the weight of their conversation settling between them.

As they walked to a cafe by the water, Leah followed Vincent cautiously, her thoughts swirling with the gravity of the situation. Vincent motioned for her to sit across from him, his demeanor serious as he lit a cigarette and sorted through papers from a folder he had been carrying.

Leah placed their order, her mind distracted as she tried to recall their previous cafe visit and what Vincent had ordered specifically. Vincent sipped his coffee contentedly, multitasking with his phone pressed to his ear and papers spread out in front of him.

When Nour, Vincent's partner, arrived, she brought hopeful news. "The judge this afternoon is not Da Silva, it’s Bollène."

"I’m off to the bank. They will only do fifty thousand," Vincent explained, slipping on his coat. "Money issues and such," he added, finishing his coffee in quick gulps.

The bail hearing was tense and sterile, with the prosecuting team arguing against Sandra's release, citing concerns of potential influence on Daniel's testimony. Nour's quick thinking and persuasive arguments swayed the decision in Sandra's favor, emphasizing her role as Daniel's caregiver and the restrictions in place to prevent any tampering with his account of events.

Sandra's temporary freedom hinged on the supervision of Marge Berger, appointed to monitor her interactions with Daniel and ensure the integrity of his statements. As Sandra and Vincent drove back to the chateau, Leah faced the choice of staying in Paris or returning to the alps with Nour and Marge. Opting for the former, Leah watched as the car disappeared into the distance, knowing that the twists and turns of the case were far from over.

_________________________________________

“About your living situation,” Vincent started and glanced over at her. His arrival at her apartment later that evening was a welcomed surprise. Vincent had given Leah a clipped version of his tense ride back to the alps with Sandra over two cups of black coffee at the kitchen’s bar.

Leah sighed, “Ugh, don’t even remind me about that.”

The idea of Leah staying in a hotel, especially under such stressful conditions, didn't sit well with Vincent. An idea formed in his mind, one he hesitated to voice, unsure of how she would receive it. After a moment of internal debate, he spoke, “I have a couch bed in my apartment. It's not much, but it's comfortable and doesn’t have termites. You're welcome to stay there until you find a new place."

Leah was taken aback, her eyes widening at the offer. "Vincent, I couldn't impose. We're colleagues, and that's—"

"—Exactly why you should accept," Vincent interjected gently. The sincerity in his voice and the genuine concern in his eyes made it hard for Leah to refuse. The thought of a pest-free place to stay, even temporarily, was too comforting to pass up. "Thank you, Vincent. I... I really appreciate it. Just until I find somewhere else, I promise."

He nodded, happy to help her in her time of need.

Vincent and Leah made their way to his apartment, the weight of the day's revelations and the unexpected turn of events hanging between them. Leah, still processing Vincent's generous offer, followed him up the steps to a charming, older building nestled in a quieter part of the city.

Vincent unlocked the door and ushered Leah inside, a hint of hesitancy in his movements. "It's not much," he began, "but it's home."

Leah stepped into the apartment and was immediately struck by its warmth. The space was a reflection of Vincent himself—understated, organized, and infused with a sense of calm. A spacious living room greeted them, its walls adorned with an eclectic mix of art that hinted at Vincent's travels and interests.

"This is lovely, Vincent," Leah said, her voice genuine. "You have a beautiful home."

Vincent gave a modest shrug, leading her through to the bedroom. "Here's where you'll be staying," he said, opening the door to a cozy room bathed in the soft light of a bedside lamp. The bed was haphazardly made, and the shelves were lined with books, a testament to Vincent's love for literature.

“This is your bedroom?” Leah questioned.

“Yes,” he nodded, "I'll take the couch for a bit to give you privacy.”

“Absolutely not,” Leah interjected, “I’m the guest, so I’ll take the couch.”

“I insist,” Vincent offered and Leah let out a measured sigh. “I’ll be here for a week, tops.”

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, divorce. see prev. tags.

A/N: I am a woman of the people and with the reaction from last chapter, you guys can have this one early. I’ll be in NYC all week, so I’m not sure I’ll have the next chapter written until late next week. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and I look forward to your reactions! (Someone make new Swann gifs, please, with Vincent’s hair)

Leah's arrival at JFK at noon left her feeling disheveled. Boarding the flight from Paris at around eight PM, she landed at JFK at two PM, with jet lag immediately taking its toll due to the time change. Craving a quick dinner, a speedy shower, and the comfort of a warm bed, Leah knew she had no time to waste as duty called. She promptly arranged for a car to take her to Brooklyn Heights.

Living just a few blocks away, Brooke's apartment was a convenient stop for Leah. With two toddlers and a six-year-old, she understood that asking Brooke to meet her for coffee was out of the question.

“Mommy, Auntie Leah is here!” The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud as a snaggle-toothed girl rushed into Leah’s arms. “Hi, sweet girl.” Balancing the girl as she entered, Leah closed the door behind her. Once the girl wriggled free, she beamed up at Leah.

“Aria, don’t wake your brother and sister,” Brooke scolded as she appeared from around the corner. Opening her arms, she warmly embraced Leah, her old friend.

“France suits you,” Brooke remarked, eyeing Leah playfully.

“I brewed the strongest coffee I had, knowing you must be exhausted,” Brooke said, leading Leah into the kitchen and seating her at the bar. “Not just from the time change, but from the hot lawyer you've been hanging around with.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Kate and her big mouth strike again.”

Accepting the coffee Brooke handed her, Leah leaned back, her chin resting on her hands.

“Tell me all about him. Distract me from this ridiculous divorce,” Brooke said, a twinkle in her eye.

Leah decided to cut to the chase. She briefly recounted the details of the case to Brooke, who seemed disinterested, before delving into her move-in with Vincent and the ensuing events. Speaking about it out loud felt surreal, as if she was observing herself from a distance, noting the absurdity of it all.

"It's... crazy," Leah confessed, taking a sip of her coffee.

"It's real," Brooke reassured her. "The way you light up when you talk about it says it all. You're practically glowing."

Leah buried her face in her hands, letting out an embarrassed groan.

"Are you going back to France?" Brooke inquired.

"Yeah," Leah confirmed. "I only came back to assist you with the custody agreement. I intend to see the case in France through to its conclusion."

"Ever the resilient one," Brooke chuckled. "Stepping out of your comfort zone at last."

"Took you long enough," Brooke teased.

They spent the following hour poring over Brooke's divorce settlement and custody arrangements, discussing her entitlements following the dissolution of her marriage and what she would be left with.

"So, you'll be there tomorrow, right?" Brooke asked anxiously.

"Yes, of course. It's normal for lawyers to attend mediation sessions. I just need to catch a flight at noon," Leah replied.

"My little jet setter," Brooke teased, eliciting a playful response from Leah in the form of her raised middle finger.

________________________________________

After ordering enough takeout for a family of five, Leah indulged in a quick shower, trying to reacclimate to life in her apartment. She felt like a ghost, haunting the familiar spaces she once occupied. The bed felt foreign, lacking the softness and comfort she had grown accustomed to in Vincent's bed. Thoughts of him consumed her, wondering if he was thinking of her too. Memories of their time together played on a loop in her mind, only to bring her back to reality, picturing him peacefully asleep. She questioned her longing for his arms and wondered why she had been denying the truth of her feelings for so long. She welcomed the embrace of sleep gratefully as it finally enveloped her.

At five in the morning, Leah found herself facing the day with weariness in both body and mind as she rose from her bed. Swiftly preparing for the day, she reached for the pre-selected outfit hanging in her closet. Satisfied with how she looked in the high-waisted slacks and neatly-pressed silk shirt, she effortlessly slipped into her red bottoms. Fashion had taken a backseat during the intense involvement in Sandra's case in France, but then, as she admired her reflection, she felt a sense of familiarity wash over her, reconnecting with her old self after a long time.

Stopping at a midtown coffee shop just before seven, Leah placed her usual order and waited patiently as the barista worked their magic. Suddenly, a wave of nausea swept over her, causing her to break out in a cold sweat. Her palms turned clammy, and she felt the color drain from her face as a tingling sensation spread. Pushing through the crowd of waiting patrons, she hurried to the bathroom, slamming the door shut just in time to drop to her knees and empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. After the ordeal passed, she rose unsteadily to her feet, wiping a cold paper towel across her neck to soothe herself. Her complexion was devoid of any color, while the tips of her ears blazed a scarlet red, a stark contrast to her drained face. Shaking off the episode, she emerged from the bathroom with a facade of composure, determined to carry on as if nothing had occurred. "Out of sight, out of mind," she reminded herself as she grabbed her order and briskly made her way towards the meeting place a few blocks away.

"You don’t look so good," Brooke observed as Leah joined her in the lobby.

"I had bad takeout last night," Leah explained, falling into step with Brooke as they entered the elevator.

"Was it Ming’s?" Brooke inquired, sharing her own unfortunate experience, "They nearly killed me with the worst food poisoning last year."

Leah shook her head in response, and Brooke fell silent. As the elevator doors slid open, they were greeted by an army of lawyers and Brooke's soon-to-be ex-husband, the epitome of an asshole. Leah couldn't help but wish she had managed to hold in the urge to vomit a little longer, just so she could unleash it on the whole group.

_______________________________________

As Leah swiftly tidied her apartment, preparing it for her return, she called for a car to take her to the airport. During the journey, her thoughts raced. Brooke's shattered marriage, torn apart by an unfaithful spouse, and the collateral damage inflicted upon her children, weighed heavily on Leah's mind. She pondered the cruel twist of fate where love, once a beacon of hope and joy, could spiral into darkness.

Vincent also occupied her thoughts, a figure of quiet strength and unwavering kindness. His gentle demeanor nurtured the connection between them with each touch, each embrace, each glance.

She mulled over what she knew of Vincent, what remained a mystery, and the things that seemed to divide them. Yet, in the midst of this contemplation, a spark of hope flickered within her, a tiny flame fueled by the warmth of his presence and the thought of being back in France with him.

Leah hurried towards the designated gate, her mind racing with thoughts. Despite her intelligence, she often found comfort in the saying "ignorance is bliss" and lived by the mantra of "out of sight, out of mind." As she deftly entered the corresponding number/letter combination into the CVS vending machine, she swiftly grabbed her selection and made a beeline for her gate.

Leah suddenly felt a wave of regret wash over her. She regretted moving in with him, getting involved romantically, and losing focus on her original purpose for being in France. The weight of her failures weighed heavily on her as she navigated through the airport and boarded the plane, almost like a zombie in a daze.

In the tiniest lavatory imaginable, Leah's hands shook as she ripped open the box, a sudden turbulence tossing her around like a forewarning as she gazed at the stick in her grasp. Completing her task, a sense of humility washing over her, she hurriedly washed her hands and concealed the evidence within her bag. Back at her seat, she drew a deep breath, preparing herself for what lay ahead. Nestled within her bag was her destiny—a small, blue plus sign, a souvenir from her time in France.

________________________________________

It was nearly seven PM when Leah landed in Paris and headed to Vincent's apartment. She expected him to be alone, so she was surprised when Joan answered the door.

"Bonsoir," Joan greeted Leah, opening the door wider for her to enter with her bag.

"Salut," Leah replied, glancing around the empty kitchen and living room.

"Where's Vincent?" she inquired.

"He's gone with Tim to the country house," Joan explained. "They're clearing trees from the main drive due to bad weather."

"Ah, I see," Leah nodded, walking into the space and heading towards the bedroom to drop off her carry-on and slip out of her shoes.

"You look nice," Joan complimented. "Did you win your case?"

"It was just a mediation," Leah clarified. "Divorce arrangements, custody agreements... all the unpleasant stuff."

"I'm glad I never got married," Joan admitted, motioning for Leah to join her at the table.

Leah poured herself a cup of tea and sat across from Joan.

"I understand," Leah acknowledged.

"My Vincent was always a stoic child. I don't think he ever truly needed a father," Joan reflected. "Maybe he did, but that ship has long sailed."

Leah listened attentively, chiming in, "I witnessed quite a battle during that mediation.”

"And you're scared, aren't you?" Joan asked, smiling knowingly at Leah.

"Of what's happening between you and Vincent," Joan elaborated.

"I'm not sure if it's fear or logic guiding me right now," Leah confessed. "Nothing seems to make sense."

"When I got pregnant with Vincent, by a worthless man, I had nowhere to turn. I was deported from Ireland and returned here. I had my parents, well, my mother briefly, but that's another tale. Despite being conceived in such dire circumstances and raised with all my quirks, he turned out to be a good man. I couldn't be prouder of him," Joan proudly stated.

Leah smiled at Joan's openness, slightly taken aback until Joan added, "But you're not pregnant by a worthless man, are you, Leah?"

Before Leah could respond, Vincent arrived, greeting her warmly as he removed his jacket and boots.

Joan hugged Vincent, giving Leah a knowing look before seeing herself out.

"What was that about?" Vincent asked, brushing Leah's cheek.

"Nothing," Leah replied. "Did you know your mother is psychic?"

Vincent chuckled, "Don't tell her that, or her ego will inflate even more."

_______________________________________

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Eight

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of suicide, basically summarizing the trial from the movie, allusions to abortion, foul language, sexual content.

A/N: y’all wanted the drama, you’re getting the drama. this chapter was weird for me to write, ngl. thanks to @melancholicmelanin for beta’ing for me last minute. as always, I love your comments and all the anons- they seriously make this worth it. I didn’t intend on taking this fic in this direction at all, but here we go. (And, as always, thanks to @luxlisbons for being on the receiving end of my neuroses)

In the quiet of Vincent’s room, Leah remained in bed for an entire day, shifting only when discomfort set in or when Vincent appeared at the doorway to check on her. At one point, she stirred as the mattress dipped, catching a glimpse of Vincent holding a plate of orange slices and a cup of water. A pang of guilt washed over her, realizing the burden her melancholy was placing on him, invading his space and life. She wondered if he was growing tired of her current state.

"Eat something," Vincent urged, nudging the plate towards her. Reluctantly, she sat up and popped an orange slice into her mouth.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, displaying numerous missed calls from her father and her therapist, but he decided against mentioning it.

"What happened in New York?" he inquired softly.

"Nothing important," she replied, swallowing the orange and taking a sip of water. "I think my friend's kid got me sick."

"Right," he nodded, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes despite his understanding nod.

He observed in silence as she finished the last orange slice and drained the remaining water.

"We go to trial on Monday," he informed her, to which she nodded.

"I'll be better by then," Leah assured him. "I promise."

Throughout the rest of the week, Leah avoided Vincent, mastering the art of vomiting quietly or simply moving food around on her plate to create the illusion that she had eaten. Frequently dozing off on the couch, she felt anxious around him, harboring a fear that he might possess the same keen perception or foresight that his eccentric mother had displayed. The fear lingered in Leah's mind that Vincent could touch her and instantly know the truth, as if he possessed some uncanny ability to see through her facade with a mere contact.

"You're cold," he observed as he entered the living room where she was engrossed in reading Sandra's case files.

"No, it's actually quite warm in here," she replied as he shook his head.

"No, you're cold, distant," he insisted.

"I've been sick, and the exhausting flight and difficult mediation have left me drained," Leah explained, hoping to deflect his suspicions.

Unconvinced, Vincent pressed on, "Why haven't you been sleeping in bed with me?"

Rather than making up an excuse, She sighed and confronted the underlying issue, "What are we, Vincent? Are we friends, a fling? Where is this relationship headed?"

Vincent looked puzzled, "Where is all this coming from?"

"You once said we have all the time in the world, but do we really?" She questioned.

"That was when you told me I made you whole," He countered.

"Context matters," She pointed out.

"What's the context of this argument, then?" He challenged.

Leah, stubborn as the day is long, shook her head.

“What happened in New York that changed you?” He asked softly.

"How long have we known each other, Vincent?" She asked, already aware of the answer.

"I think just over a month," He replied honestly, “Maybe closer to two?”

"Then how can you say I've changed when you barely know me?" She snapped, looking at him intently, her entire body engaged for a fight she hadn't planned on having.

"How do you know this isn't the real me?" She added, sounding frustrated. "You can't presume to understand who I am."

"All I see is your missed calls, lack of appetite…you won’t let me touch you.” He admitted nervously.

"Do you just want to fuck me, Vincent?" She stood up, hands on her hips, challenging him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," He replied, standing his ground.

"Let me work in peace and stop analyzing me," She said firmly, returning to her seat on the couch.

Vincent, feeling sheepish, sat on the chaise opposite her, trying to figure out what had gone wrong between them.

______________________________________

"I’m pregnant," Leah spoke quietly into the phone as she poured a cup of tea.

Kate emitted a sound that was a mix of a scream and a gasp on the other end of the call. "I fucking knew it," she said.

"Yeah, well, I don’t know what to do," Leah admitted as she sat at the table with her teacup.

"His mom knows because apparently she’s fucking psychic," Leah continued. "I walked in, and she took one look at me, and she fucking knew."

Kate sighed heavily on the other end. "Does he know?"

"No," Leah said. "I can’t tell him right before the trial and mess with his headspace. I think I've already shaken up his life enough."

"Come home and take care of it," Kate advised. "Quick and simple."

Leah sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s not that easy. I can’t leave during the case without raising his suspicion. Besides, I barely let him touch me now. I let him eat me out and fuck me yesterday because he cornered me against the kitchen counter, and he said I tasted different. The whole vibe was off after."

"Well, yeah," Kate agreed. "Your whole-body changes when you’re pregnant."

"Now I think he’s convinced I slept with someone else or have someone at home waiting for me, and I’m just bamboozling him," Leah said with a saddened tone.

"I finally climbed into bed with him last night after sleeping on the couch for close to a week, and he immediately rolled over and scooted close to me. His hand found its way to my belly, and it took everything in me not to blurt it out then and there," Leah admitted.

"What?" Kate asked. "That you’re pregnant?"

"No," Leah laughed sardonically. "That I’m in love with him."

Somehow, that revelation shocked Kate more than the news of the pregnancy.

________________________________________

"Are you going to answer that?" Vincent gestured towards Leah's vibrating phone, but she shook her head. They sat together at the kitchen table, poking at bits of scrambled eggs and fresh strawberries on their plates.

"He wants me to come home and join his firm," Leah stated firmly. "I have no desire to work with him or anyone in his firm."

"Your dad is a lawyer?" Vincent inquired, sipping his tea.

"You really don’t know much about me, do you?" Leah asked seriously. "That’s the only thing I inherited from him," she added with a hint of bitterness. "I come from a long line of deceitful, conniving, bald-faced lying lawyers. All on his side."

"And your therapist," Vincent tapped the back of her phone, "You’re not going to answer their calls either?"

"Why would I?" Leah chuckled. "She's just going to tell me to stop messing around with you and go home. Besides, why are you worried about this?" she asked. "I’ve had a therapist since I was sixteen; I'm not going to throw myself from the balcony or anything. I’m just in a slump.”

"I don’t want you to isolate yourself while you're here," Vincent said, offering her a kind smile.

"Well, ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?" Leah half-joked.

Vincent laughed and nodded in agreement.

"You know this trial is going to be tough, right?" he questioned.

"I know," Leah replied, taking a sip of her tea and nodding at him. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm built for war."

_______________________________________

Leah found the trial fascinating and bizarre, a stark contrast to the sterile courtrooms she was used to back home. The architectural setup, with the judges raised above the room and Sandra seated far away from her own counsel, spoke volumes. The trial itself felt like a free-for-all, and when Vincent walked out in his robes with the frilly collar, Leah had to stifle visible awe and a wave of humor. The awkward moment of listening to Zoë and Sandra’s recorded conversation made Leah's skin crawl. It felt like an invasion of privacy, adding to the overall invasion already present. The recording painted Sandra as a sexual deviant, merely a bisexual woman ready to prey on Zoë. The avocat general, or ‘the bald bastard’ as Leah later dubbed him, tore poor Zoë apart. She held her ground, but he exuded an accusatory nature that even Leah, seated among the gallery, felt.

By some stroke of luck, Vincent had arranged for a translator to feed a translation into an earpiece for Leah. This delayed her reactions, but she noticed Vincent checking on her every few minutes. When Vincent spoke without any objection thrown out, Leah was taken aback. That kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated in America, she thought.

“That’s beside the point,” the translator's voice came in Leah’s ear, half a second after Vincent's words, “and sexist.”

Leah felt her stomach drop in the best way as she looked at him. A reality dawned on her—one she had ignored for long over a week, only showing itself in random bouts of nausea and aversion to her longtime perfume—that she was carrying his child. The realization nearly drove her crazy as she watched him lean against the banister, witnessing the same awkward interview she had seen with Daniel unfold in court. The Présidente du tribunal interrogated Daniel, questioning his change of heart regarding the gaffer tape, and Vincent was quick to mention a psychiatrist's observation of shock as a possible reason for his altered memories.

Sandra watched like a hawk as her son was interrogated, and Leah sensed her strong desire to shield him, to envelop him in grace, even from her spot in the vacant spectator’s section. She was permitted to stay there because she was privy to the case's confidential details—a fact that even surprised her. Vincent swiftly intervened, coming to the boy's defense and engaging in a heated argument with the avocat.

From then on, everything blurred. The splatter analyst presented their testimony, offering a hypothesis that faced multiple challenges. The reenactment of the incident, the whole shebang, unfolded before the entire court.

The switch to English at Sandra's request was a welcomed relief for Leah. The speculation about Samuel's suicide attempt and his argument with the therapist felt all too familiar to her. A woman being blamed and scorned for a man's failings— a tale as old as time. Vincent intervened, arguing that the burden was shared by both Samuel and Sandra. However, Leah couldn't focus on his words. All she could see were his eyes, his emotions, the way he expressed himself, his beautiful and unique features.

After court adjourned, Leah joined Sandra and Vincent in the main lobby. The trio walked out together in silence, each grappling with the intensity of the morning. When Vincent suggested driving Sandra home, Leah declined the offer to join, deciding to walk the short distance to Vincent’s apartment to clear her head, feeling too exhausted and overwhelmed by the emotional dynamics at play. In the ensuing hours, she found herself entwined both emotionally and physically in Vincent's bed sheets, until sleep mercifully claimed her.

_________________________________________

In the quiet hours of the morning, Vincent slipped into bed, wrapping his arms around her, drawing comfort from her warmth. She sighed softly from his embrace as he molded himself around her form.

"What did you guys talk about tonight?" her sleepy voice inquired, though her mind had conjured numerous scenarios before she drifted off.

"We talked," Vincent whispered by her ear, "about life, about you, about everything."

"Mhm," Leah mumbled drowsily, "I wanted to punch that bald prosecutor in the throat."

"We didn't discuss the case," Vincent said, planting a kiss on her shoulder blade.

"You talked about me," Leah rolled over, opening her eyes. "Gossipers."

Vincent smiled, his eyes crinkling. "No gossip. I reserve that for my mother."

"You're not being honest," Leah stated matter-of-factly. "You didn't hear her call me a black cat weeks ago, yet you use the same term now. That's not a coincidence. You're a gossip."

"No," he shook his head. "The night you accused me of being with her, I was trying to understand why I feel the way I do about you. I was hoping she would have some advice to make sense of all this.”

"And?" Leah inquired. "What did you conclude?"

"Witchcraft," Vincent chuckled, making Leah laugh. "We didn't reach a conclusion. I just came back to you, and it all fell into place."

"And then you returned home," Vincent began, his words measured, "and you're closed off.”

"This isn't my home, Vincent," Leah corrected him, observing the sadness in his eyes.

"But it could be," he suggested. "You're here, in my bed, in my thoughts, in my heart."

"It's not that easy," Leah replied. "Let's get some rest, okay?"

Vincent's tired eyes silently agreed as she turned away, shutting her eyes tightly to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

_________________________________________

Seated in the gallery, Leah pressed her palms firmly under her thighs, a wave of sickness washing over her. The sound of Samuel's voice, engaged in a heated argument with Sandra, stirred a deep-seated rage within Leah, aimed at her manipulative and despicable father. The echoes of the fights from her childhood amplified her anger, intensifying it twofold. Glancing at Vincent, his arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead, Leah finally understood why he had kept the file from her until now. The conversation, particularly about language and speaking English as a middle ground, painted a picture of confusion and struggles for their potential future children, such as the one Leah secretly carried, under the shadow of their distinctly American mother.

Resentment. Manipulation.

Those were the only words Leah registered.

The realization terrified her, sending shivers down her spine. As she and Vincent locked eyes, she sensed that he comprehended the turmoil swirling in her mind. With a trembling hand, she reached to her right and clasped Daniel's hand, feeling his tremors mirroring her own. From that moment on, Leah tuned out everything else, focusing solely on the boy beside her, a reflection of her own struggles and fears.

_______________________________________

In the days that followed, social media buzzed with chatter about Sandra, while Leah and Vincent lingered in Paris, Sandra and Daniel retreated to their chalet.

As the court session resumed two days later, Daniel's testimony was set to unfold in an empty gallery, and Leah opted to wait outside the chamber, avoiding the potentially twisted details that Samuel Maleski might have implanted in the young boy's mind. While Sandra was far from perfect, Samuel's darker side seemed doubly sinister and oblivious. Sandra, on the other hand, acknowledged her imperfections as a mother, a woman, and a human being—a trait that Leah found admirable.

As the chamber doors finally swung open, Vincent's reassuring smile conveyed all Leah needed to know. They hailed a car and squeezed in, with Sandra phoning to check on Daniel, who graciously approved of her belated dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. In the back seat, Vincent kept a watchful eye on Leah, who observed their surroundings as the car navigated the streets, eventually arriving at the restaurant.

“That’s the first fucking time in our life we win!” Vincent proclaimed amidst laughter at the table, responding to Sandra's inquiry about their celebratory customs. A waitress arrived with more sushi and a round of sake, which Leah politely declined, opting for a simple bowl of rice and water.

When Leah's phone rang, she excused herself and stepped outside, where she found Nour and a few other colleagues enjoying a smoke break.

"Evan proposed," Kate's voice crackled through the earpiece.

"Congratulations... I think?" Leah chuckled.

"I turned him down, as I always do," Kate replied matter-of-factly.

"Maybe next time," Leah teased.

However, as she glanced back through the window, her stomach churned at the scene unfolding inside—Vincent's hand lightly tracing Sandra's cheekbone, drawing her close into his embrace, where he ran his fingers through her hair. Sandra reciprocated, tenderly touching his face as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Leah abruptly ended the call with Kate and stood frozen, her gaze fixed through the glass. Catching Vincent's eye, he swiftly rose from his seat, Leah’s strides purposeful and swift as she made her way down the uneven sidewalk, tapping away on her phone to order an Uber. With the car mere moments away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eventually, Vincent caught up to her just as she was about to step into the waiting car.

"Leah—," he began, but she cut him off with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Don't. You can fucking have her," she retorted sharply.

Slamming the car door shut, she drove off without a backward glance.

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Nine

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: familial trauma, abortion, medical procedures, medical terminology, discussions of birth control, protesting.

A/N: this chapter is extremely dark and heavy. if you have any trauma regarding abortion or subjects tied to it, please message me and i will give you a TLDR. i swore i would never, ever write anything like this but you guys asked for drama, and now you’re getting it. Also huge shoutout to @melancholicmelanin for being my beta. My elite employee.

Grumbling quietly in the back of the Uber, Leah, with all the politeness she could muster, requested the driver to keep driving. She recognized the neighborhood's landmarks, recalling specific apartments and details from her recent walks with Vincent to and from her current destination. The driver, growing increasingly impatient with Leah's distracted directions, muttered frustrations in French, navigating the streets aimlessly as Leah anxiously scanned her surroundings, hoping for a familiar sight.

"Stop!" Leah's sudden command made the driver slam on the brakes.

Quickly exiting the vehicle, Leah made sure to proceed towards her due diligence of tipping the poor man. Tapping away at her phone in a hurry, she overpaid the driver before giving a forced smile through gritted teeth.

"Thank you," she called out while crossing the street, "Uh, merci!"

Spotting a familiar figure smoking on the terrace above, beckoning her like an old friend, Leah hastened towards the door. Joan, draped in a silk robe, welcomed her inside with an understanding gaze.

"I had nowhere else to go," Leah confessed.

"Come inside," Joan ushered Leah through the foyer and into a cozy sitting room that Leah hadn't noticed during the party.

"What happened?" Joan asked, her concern evident. "Is Vincent okay? Are you okay?"

She sat down, gesturing for Leah to take a seat.

"Yeah," Leah shook her head, "No, I don't know?"

She sighed, "I, uh, left the restaurant in a rush after I saw, uh, well, Vincent and Sandra clearly having a moment. I left my bag with all its contents, and I didn't have anywhere else to go," she explained. "I'm sorry for ambushing you."

“A moment?,” Joan questioned, “What do you mean?”

Leah sighed heavily again. “He was holding her and caressing her,” Leah, visibly upset, said while wringing her hands, “And she touched his face, caressing his cheeks, and they just stared at one another.”

Leah’s voice cracked as she continued, “And I know that type of look,” Leah stopped long enough to wipe her tear stained cheeks, “I’ve been on the receiving end of that look.”

"I feared this would happen," Joan paused to grab a cigarette from the case on the coffee table and lit it. "History repeating itself."

Leah shrugged and sank back into the couch. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Joan nonchalantly flicked her ashes into a chic ashtray on the side table. "Do you want some tea?"

Confused by the sudden change of topic, Leah nodded.

"How do you take it?" Joan inquired.

Leah chuckled wryly. "I never drank tea until I came here, so however Vincent makes it is how I've been taking it."

“Black tea with honey and milk, I think?” Leah suggested, “That’s how he taught me.”

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An hour passed as Leah and Joan delved into discussions about what Leah should have done, could have done, and would do.

"You kept Vincent from his father, and yet, you're telling me that I should be honest with Vincent, disregarding everything I saw back at the restaurant," Leah sighed, closing her eyes. "Are you telling me to be honest with him because you have an emotional stake in this or because you think it's the right thing to do?"

"Vincent's father was a pickpocket by trade and a drunk by hobby," Joan explained. "I was twenty when I had Vincent, and I went back to Ireland to tell him about Vincent a year or so later, only to find out he'd knocked up the bartender at the local bar." Joan continued, "For months, we robbed, partied, and lived off Guinness until we were finally caught. I was arrested, deported, and found to be pregnant at the very last minute."

Joan lit a cigarette and pointed a finger at Leah. "So don't draw comparisons from me."

"But it's hard not to when you're telling me all these things," Leah said. "The only difference is I'm thirty-two, Vincent is forty-two, and I live on an entirely different continent," Leah stated, continuing, "We're old enough and established enough to have a child, but that doesn't necessarily mean we should."

"It's your right to choose," Joan said, “Even Vincent will tell you that.”

Joan lit another cigarette and pointed at Leah. "It's not my place to tell him about the child, nor is it my burden to bear," she continued. "But keep in mind that he is not some fly-by-night, piece of shit who's going to move on and pick up the pieces when you fly out of here." She ashed the cigarette, and Leah made a mental note that this is where Vincent must have inherited his chain-smoking gene. "He is going to be right where you left him, loving you all the same."

"See, the thing is," Joan inhaled sharply. "Sandra never loved Vincent back," she explained. "Maybe platonically, sure, but he fell hard, and I think he is now seeing what he lost but also what he has gained. You love him back. That’s the difference."

Leah shook her head, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "But is that enough?"

Joan smiled sadly at her. "Is anything ever enough, lovely Leah?"

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For an hour, Vincent walked around Paris with an overpriced Prada bag in his grip. Leah had felt guilty the day she bought it, telling him about the people starving and the wars being fought around them. She expressed how selfish and materialistic she felt, but she didn't plan on being the richest person in the cemetery when she died. She intended to spend what she could while she still had a pulse. Vincent liked the way she rationalized the purchase and stood happily behind her with his hands clasped behind his back as the attendant took her on a guided trip through the store.

On this particular night, Vincent longed for the simplicity of those first few weeks they'd spent together. As he searched the streets of Paris as if she might jump out and surprise him around any corner, like the entire thing was one big joke, he wished he had never met her. Quickly banishing that thought from his mind, he realized it was a blatant lie. Convinced she had moved on in New York City, perhaps with the old flame she had mentioned weeks ago in a wine-fueled confession during one of their many midnight chats, he wondered why he continued to want her the way he did.

Then, as his phone vibrated and he squinted to read the brightened screen, a text from his mother read, "She's with me. Go home."

“Why is she there?” He texted back, walking aimlessly in the direction he had been going.

His phone vibrated again and he quickly opened the chat, “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

Vincent scoffed, forever humbled by his mother, and headed in the direction of her apartment.

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"Vincent, don't come in here to start an argument," his mother warned as she opened the door and gestured for him to enter. "And wipe that smirk off your face."

He complied silently, knowing well that his mother was not one to be swayed in an argument.

She closed the door behind him, tightening her robe around her before pointing a finger at his chest. "Do not wake her up."

He took a step back, raising his eyebrows. "She's at my mother's house."

Joan nodded firmly. "My house, my rules." With that, she turned and walked away, throwing a final warning over her shoulder. "You better not wake me or Tim."

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as his mother disappeared from view.

Taking a deep breath, he navigated through the dimly lit apartment, finally reaching the sitting room where Leah lay curled up on the couch. He let her bag slip out of his grip, the sound of it hitting the floor breaking the silence. Leah jolted awake, gasping, her eyes darting around the room in a panic as she struggled to orient herself.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one mad here," she remarked, sitting up and pulling a throw blanket around her shoulders.

"You chose to come here?" He inquired, a mix of confusion and frustration in his voice. "Why?"

Leah shrugged, a hint of defiance in her demeanor as she shook her head. "Where else was I supposed to go?" she retorted, her tone sharp.

"Leah, you should have gone home," He ran a flustered hand through his hair, turning to face her. "You shouldn't have run away from me," he chastised.

"Home is over three thousand miles away, Vincent," she retorted sharply. "What did you expect me to do?" Her voice cracked with emotion. "Stay and watch that? Put yourself in my shoes for once."

He shook his head, starting to pace. "What you witnessed was two people closing a chapter and moving on."

She scoffed, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, call it that," she said, rolling her eyes as she locked eyes with him. "Maybe next week I'll walk into your apartment and find you fucking her, and we can label it as 'grief therapy.'"

He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. "What happened to you in New York?" He inquired once more.

She abruptly rose from the couch, pulling the throw tighter around her shoulders.

"I finally came to my senses," she declared, her eyes fixed on the Parisian street beyond the sliding glass door.

"Do you mind sharing, because I can't read your mind?" he asked, moving to stand beside her, both looking out onto the same street.

Leah met his gaze, tears welling up in her eyes. "That you're in love with her," she confessed, her voice trembling. "And I'm in love with you." Wiping away the tears hastily, she continued, "I came here to explore international law, to step out of my comfort zone, but I can't even tell you a single thing about French law because all I've been is a puppet on a string. I've played second fiddle to the ice queen of the Alps because you're so deeply in love with her, Vincent." A sob escaped her, and she quickly muffled it, torn between shame and fear of waking Vincent's mother.

"I don't even know you," she shook her head, a sense of resignation washing over her. "This should never have gone this far," she admitted, closing her eyes. "And I don't share. I refuse to play second fiddle to anyone," she declared.

Vincent chuckled incredulously. "There it is, that American brashness, always rearing its head when things don't go your way."

She let out a sarcastic laugh. "It seems to be a recurring theme, doesn't it? You never miss a chance to remind me of my Americanness." She tilted her head and met his gaze. "You'll eventually scold me for not learning French, one of us will jump out of a window, and history will repeat itself."

"What are you even talking about?" Vincent's face registered bewilderment as he spoke softly, mindful not to disturb his sleeping mother. "Have you thought this through? What's gotten into you?" he inquired.

"It's hard not to dwell on it after what I heard during the case," she sniffled, her voice tinged with distress. "That USB file is haunting me in the most unsettling ways."

"I may be many things," he reached out to touch Leah's shoulder, gently turning her to face him, "But I am not Samuel, and you are not Sandra," he reassured her. "You could speak an alien language, and I would still be in love with you just the same."

She nodded, resting her heavy head in the space between Vincent's shoulder and neck, surrendering, if only for one night.

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Leah had made up her mind before she had actually made up her mind. It was a familiar pattern, reminiscent of her second year of law school when she found herself with two different guys, rotating between them over a span of six months. She walked quietly into the Joan Malin Health Center, the same place that had been the center of protests the week before, causing chaos in the already bustling streets of Brooklyn. With Kate beside her, she completed the necessary paperwork, underwent an exam and ultrasound that they both averted their gazes from, and with a swift IV placement, she drifted off into unconsciousness. Sometime later, she awoke in a sterile, brightly lit room with Kate faithfully by her side. On the way home, Kate grabbed some pizza for both of them, a decision they both wholeheartedly agreed was the best choice, including the one Leah had made earlier in the day. Maybe it had been more emotionally charged that day, Leah couldn’t recall in the moment. Had it been that easy? Had she not felt anything?

It had been about eight years since that day, Leah estimated, as the Uber dropped her off in the sixth arrondissement, her former residence before moving in with Vincent. She pondered whether she would have even made the trip to Paris if she had become a mother back then. Would she have pursued a career in law? Pushing aside these thoughts, she relied on Google Maps to navigate the streets, drawing closer to the address provided by an associate of Le Planning Familial. The associate had promptly responded to her email late at night, providing her with a list of names and locations, allowing her the autonomy to choose where she wished to seek treatment.

Upon her arrival, she took a deep breath before entering the multilevel practice. After riding the elevator to the correct floor, she promptly checked in, grateful that the receptionist spoke English. She didn't want any additional challenges that morning, so she chose a seat far away from the other women waiting to be seen.

It seemed like hours had passed before her name was called, and she was ushered into what appeared to be a doctor's office. They meticulously reviewed her medical history, discussed the procedure, and outlined the pre- and post-procedure protocols. He recommended contraceptive devices to her, to which Leah declined for obvious reasons, not thinking of any sort of future outside of this building, this room. Adoption, she explained, wasn’t even an option to put on the table. Dr. Shah, as he introduced himself, noticed Leah's nervousness as he sighed and leaned on both elbows, studying her.

"It's not too late to change your mind," he offered sympathetically.

"It's not that," Leah shook her head. "I'm just trying not to vomit all over your desk." She placed her shaking hands under her thighs.

“Here,” he stood up and guided Leah out into the hallway, leading her to an exam room down the hall. Opening the door and flicking on the lights, Leah blinked a few times at their harshness.

“Get on the table and make yourself comfortable,” he requested.

Feeling cautious, Leah followed his instructions and settled onto the table, accepting the blanket he offered her.

As he exited the room, Leah took a moment to observe her surroundings. She glanced out the window, taking in the view of the city, and noticed the various pieces of art adorning the walls. Among them, she spotted delicate peonies painted to blend in with the earth-toned decor. If they were placed there for relaxation purposes, they most definitely were not working in Leah’s favor.

Leah picked up her phone and quickly FaceTimed Kate, whose blurred face came into focus after a few rings.

"Was I normal the day I had my abortion?" Leah asked without preamble.

"Leah," Kate began, looking around, "No warning at all?"

Looking past Leah, she asked, "Where are you?"

Leah sighed, "I'm at a clinic in France."

Leah watched as she walked into her office, sighing heavily as Kate sat at her desk, her numerous accolades and photos scattered on the shelves behind her. "What the fuck? I told you to come home, and we would take care of it."

"Was I normal that day?" Leah asked again.

"No," Kate shook her head. "You were shaking like a leaf the entire time, throwing up multiple times, and could barely sit still in that dirty waiting room."

"And those protesters," Kate rolled her eyes, "Their pamphlets were everywhere in the lobby."

Leah let out a shaky breath. "Why don't I remember any of that?"

"Because memory is tricky," Kate offered. "Come home, sissy cat, and we will take care of this."

A nurse knocked on the door and entered the room, carrying materials and a tablet. Leah motioned for Kate to wait, placing the phone beside her. The nurse offered Leah a kind smile, urging her to sit up as she tied a tourniquet around her arm. Nervously, Leah pulled back. "I'm not ready for the procedure, and I don't want general anesthesia. I have no one that can be here with me to take me home.”

"Not yet," the nurse comforted her. "I'm just going to start an IV filled with saline, give you some nausea medication, and medication for anxiety."

"I'll take it all," Leah relaxed and allowed the nurse to do her job. Within minutes, she felt calmer, a little lighter than she had in weeks. Following the nurse's instructions to undress from the waist down, a challenging task that Leah managed one-handed due to the IV placement.

"Are you okay?" Kate questioned as Leah picked up the phone again.

Leah shook her head. "Yes, no, maybe?" She closed her eyes. "I messed up big time, Kate."

"I gotta go, I can hear them discussing my case outside the door," Leah rushed out.

"I love you, sissy cat, and I'll love any little baby you have." Kate blew her a kiss and hung up the phone.

The doctor entered a few minutes later, wheeling an ultrasound cart in behind him. “Feeling better?” He asked, and Leah nodded. “As best as I can, given the situation.”

A few quiet moments passed between them as he set up the machine and had Leah lie back. The same song and dance as before: feet in the stirrups, the cold probe, warm gel, deep pressure. Leah wanted to make a joke about the French being prickly, about how kind and attentive they had been to her, but she quickly realized that was expected of people in their field.

"Once again, an IUD would be a great choice for you. I just want you to know all your options," Dr. Shah said, glancing up at Leah before turning back to the monitor.

"I know it looks like I'm a dumbass American who came to France for fun and got more than she bargained for," Leah sat up and locked eyes with the doctor, "but I took a Plan B and started birth control and still ended up in this situation."

The nurse placed a reassuring hand on Leah's shoulder. "We don't judge here."

“Mesure environ six semaines et cinq jours,” The doctor spoke to the nurse, who tapped on the tablet, nodding as he continued the exam.

And there it was: the steady beat of a drum, the galloping of horse hooves, the steady ticking of a wristwatch under a pillow. Leah thrummed her fingers along the exam table, keeping time with the rhythm, finding comfort in it as she closed her eyes, immersing herself in it.

The doctor looked up at her, his eyes on her dancing fingers, then back to her face. “Are you sure you want to proceed?”

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 8. Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor: IV. Adagietto. Sehr langsam

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Startled from a dream in which my body seemed to be falling, I opened my eyes, trying to breathe normally as my heart was beating faster.

The TV in the hotel room was turned on: I didn’t realize that I fell asleep after that conversation with Vincent when he tried to reach me, making pathetic try to explain the relationship between him and Sandra. I didn’t even change into pajamas.

Crimson Rivers was on air. I liked that film but wasn’t ready to rewatch it especially when it was 3 o’clock in the morning and busy day for both Renzi and me was waiting for us: the last hearing was scheduled in a few days and we needed to be ready for it. I turned the TV off, put pajamas on, but couldn’t go to sleep again without the help of my sleeping medication and putting socks on: my feet were too cold.

Of course, I knew that there needed to be a serious talk with Vincent, because I couldn’t take it, that uncertainty between us: either we could stay friends or colleagues, if it could be possible at all, I wasn’t sure about it, or we were about to break all the strings which were connecting us. Our common romantic past needed to be in the past. It was clear for me that he found someone else.

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We were in a team, so, of course, we needed to spend the days which were left before the final hearing together: looking through documents, writing speeches and checking the evidence. He invited me to his hotel room and from early in the morning until late evening we were working, even forgetting to have lunch.

Somehow both of us began to believe that we would win the case: I always had that particular feeling which I couldn’t explain but when I knew that the case was going to be successful – I always felt it. And that particular feeling started to appear in my head.

“Well, I think we’re done for tonight. And for this case. We can finally relax before the hearing, and we have time until the day after tomorrow to make sure that everything is ready”, Vincent closed his folder with documents and notebook and looked at me, “I think we deserve a bottle of nice wine and good dinner, don’t you think?”, he looked at his watches, checking the time, “And we definitely need the fresh air”

“There is a good place near my hotel”, I said, “We can sit there”

I put my documents inside my bag and looked at watches as well. It felt so strange to talk to him after that evening, the pressure was floating in the air, and it felt like if we didn’t go outside – the eruption was about to begin.

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Of course, one bottle of wine at the restaurant wasn’t enough for us, and since both of us knew that we needed to talk, no matter how drunk we could be, we decided to spend the rest of the evening at my hotel room, talking and drinking wine.

“What are you planning to do after this work?”, the conversation at my hotel room started with a very ordinary, when Vincent asked me this question.

Finishing twirling the lighter on the table and putting the leftovers of my cigarette in the ashtray, I replied, without looking at him:

“I’d love to have some days off – it was one of the most dreadful cases that I’ve ever had before.”

“Honestly, mine as well”, Renzi replied, and poured more wine in our glasses, “But on the other hand, it was very nice experience to work with you, Camille, I’ve heard about your work and I can see why you’ve been recommended as one of the best”

I just smirked, but he caught it

“Why are you smirking? It’s the truth”

“Oh, please, Renzi, just stop sugar coating yourself.”, I finally looked at him, trying to find the courage to tell him everything that I was keeping inside me. Vincent looked at me with frown, “I will never forget how did you trample on our relationships, and now you’re trying to shove it off with pleasing me, it’s so pathetic”

“Camille”, Vincent moved closer to me, trying to take my hand, but I shoved it off and stood up, moving back, and stood near the sofa. The rage was growing inside of me. I was angry at him and his attempts to keep me calm.

“Why the fuck are you acting like you are an innocent person?”, my voice started to break into a scream, “I can’t believe that you forgot that it was you who decided to break up with me saying that it was a mistake to begin relationship with me because I’m a lot younger than you and you didn’t know that it would go that far?”, I paused, catching my breath, when Vincent raised from his seat and moved closer to me, placing his hand on a sofa which was separating us:

“Because I had no idea that it would be so hard not to think about you and not to care about you. It was I who was afraid scared of the responsibility, of other people’s opinion about us.”

“Now you sound ridiculous.”, I smirked crookedly, I couldn’t believe that he was talking like that and was taken aback, “You’re acting like a young adult and now you’re playing with my feelings. You could at least tell me that you and Sandra are a thing and I would understand it”, my voice broke down, when Vincent made the last attempt to catch my hand when I moved back again, and this time he was successful, when I tried to pull it out, he squeezed it harder, talking loudly:

“Sandra and I are NOT a thing, Camille!”, it felt like the walls shook after his words and I finally gave up trying to pull out my hand, “We were never a thing”, Vincent finally released my hand and stood behind the window, looking outside, and I accurately sat on the sofa.

“I know that I was a child. I understood it long time ago, how wrong I was, but was trying to defend myself. Funny how I couldn’t do it, because, believe it or not, I was looking for our meeting but was avoiding it at the same time. I was thinking about you. Sometimes too much”, he looked at me with certainty, “When the case came around, I thought that maybe it would be a good time to finally meet you and talk about us. I was trying to deny it, but when I saw you, Camille, when we began to work together…”

Vincent’s voice broke a little when he started to move closer to me, and I stood up, but keeping the distance, “…what we had years ago, of course, was lost, but I understood that I wanted to come back to what we had together”, he finally finished, but I couldn’t move.

My mind was telling me that it was all lies, but my heart, no matter how hard I tried not to hear its voice, was saying that it was true. Tears came from my eyes, when I asked Vincent with my hoarse voice, as if it had disappeared:

“How can I believe you, Vincent? You hurt me, my feelings, how can I possibly believe you?”

He moved closer to me, couple of centimeters were separating us. Suddenly, everything seemed so quiet, even clocks couldn’t be heard.

“What about trust?”, Vincent whispered, looking in my eyes,

“It’s hard to find”, I whispered, but I moved closer to him, I think I heard not only the beat of my heart, but Renzi’s as well

“But can it be gained back again?”

“Can it?”, without realizing it at first, I put my hand in his hand, when my mind was circling.

“We can try... I don��t want to lose you, mademoiselle Cadieux”,

“Neither do I, monsieur Renzi”, I finally breathed out these words and our lips merged into deep kiss, which I didn’t want to break, but dived deeply into it. How long I’ve been waiting for it, how long my mind and my heart were fighting between each other, but finally my heart won the battle.

We fell on the bed, kissing each other madly, Vincent kissed my neck, when I put my hands in his soft hair, trying to catch my breath. The kisses were deeper and deeper when finally, Vincent took off his sweater and I took off mine, unbuttoning my bra. Renzi took off his jeans and layed down on me, when I closed my eyes, diving into the passionate night which was ahead of us.

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La Vérité masterlist

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 6. Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90 - III. Poco allegretto

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With the development of the case and between court hearings I’ve noticed some things in relationships between Vincent and Sandra. It could be seen in their small talks, glances and I was afraid to admit to myself that probably there was something between them that I couldn’t figure out but probably could understand completely. I was hoping that it was all my imagination. Because I didn’t want to admit to myself that I still felt something deep for Vincent, even though I used to cry my eyes out very late at night because of him.

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“What are you thinking about? It seems like you’re somewhere else all the time”, Vincent’s question brought me back to present, when I was lost in my thoughts again, when we were waiting for our cups of coffee early in the morning at one of local cafés in the center of Grenoble.

The distance between us was growing again, even though we spent all of our free time together either in cafes or at hotel room working on case and saying our thoughts and ideas. We never talked about something else. And I felt the growing hate towards him, and how everything collapsed because of him: our relationships, my love, my trust. I kept recalling it and couldn’t believe how did I agree to work with him after he hurt me like that. And now I saw him having little chats with Sandra, when we’re visiting her place, it irritated me even more, I felt like I was in a trap and I couldn’t escape it.

I hided my eyes by putting back my sunglasses on, lighted up my cigarette, inhaling smoke, and replied dryly:

“I don’t know, I just have these thoughts in my head, that’s all”

“What kind of thoughts?”

I gave Vincent a look which he couldn’t see behind my sunglasses:

“You know what kind of”

“No, I don’t. Tell me, Camille…”

I sighed loudly and put cigarette inside the ashtray even though I didn’t finish smoking it:

“I’m not in the mood of talking, monsieur Renzi, especially now and particularly about them. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather sit quietly and wait for my cup of coffee”

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During my studies monsieur Renzi and mademoiselle Cadieux were circling around between us not only when we were inside the university walls but also when we wanted to highlighted something: when we were angry or when we were happy, when we wanted to put extra attention on it.

Our meetings after that Jean-Paul’s birthday evening transformed into an affair: very deep and passionate one. We used to meet each other after classes, spending time together, kissing, hugging, talking about everything that worried us. It felt like I’ve finally met someone who could understand me and who could love me for who I am with all my insecurities, strangeness and my melancholy.

Of course, I didn’t forget about my studies: I had a lack of sleep, but I always came to university prepared to explain additional details about my degree essay and what I was planning to develop later, after the critique and tutorials. That’s how the rest of the autumn passed by. And so did December. We spent Christmas night together; it was my first time when I’ve visited Vincent’s place and it was my first time to spend night together with a man. It was thrilling, it was scary and yet it was significant and unexplainable at the same time.

I didn’t know how long would our affair last, I was living in the moment, afraid to think about the future, despite the fact that sometimes my thoughts let myself to think that it would be a long-lasting one. But it wasn’t. And during springtime, when everyone was falling in love our relationships were falling apart.

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“What do you think about Brahms?”, Vincent turned towards me, making me stop in the middle of the crowded street, when we were heading back to our hotels after one of those exhausted hearings which we had, when all the evidence was against us and neither my nor Vincent’s attempts were successful.

I looked closely at Renzi, figuring out what did he mean. He knew that I loved listening to classic music, and then I saw a poster behind his back, informing the citizens of Grenoble about the upcoming concert, dedicating to the music of Johannes Brahms. And the puzzle sorted out in my head.

“Positively.”

“Maybe he’s music will help us to relax a little, before the final fight”, Vincent smirked, also turning back and looking at the poster, “We honestly need that”

I just sighed, imagining how difficult it was going to be for us as lawyers, how tired I was, and how I wanted it to finally be over and how hard I wanted to get away from this place.

______________________________________________________________

During the whole concert I had a strange feeling that I was listening to the music and I wasn’t there at the same time: for some seconds I thought that I was looking at myself from the side, catching Vincent’s gaze at the same time. Funny how it was irritating me, because of all those glances that I’ve seen between him and Sandra, and it felt like he was playing some kind of the unfunny joke on me: baiting my interest again, forgetting how painful it was for me when we were breaking up.

The concert was almost over, when I heard my most favourite piece from Brahms: Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90 - III. Poco allegretto. It is very beautiful, mesmerizing, sad and cheerful at the same time, the emotions that a person can feel when listening to it are unexplainable. In one moment, I felt something running down my right cheek: it didn’t occur to me that tears were coming down my eyes and I felt embarrassing and angry at myself at the same time: I didn’t want to let Vincent see my tears. I realized that it was all my emotions which was trying to keep inside me were suddenly bursting out: the space inside of me was full.

I glanced at Renzi, when was imperceptibly trying to wipe away the tears with the back of my hand, hoping that he didn’t see them. I didn’t want to leave my seat, even though I felt myself awful and embarrassed, promising myself to cry all of my anger and sadness out in the dark hotel room. Luckily my companion looked at me only when the music finished and my tears were dry. And I was holding on with all my might so as not to run out of the concert hall on that exact moment.

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Of course, I didn’t know what I could possibly do wrong, everything seemed alright and okay when Vincent and I had an affair. Both of us didn’t give each other a second thought or a worry. But suddenly it broke down somewhere.

It was a springtime, when I was finishing my degree essay, getting it ready to be presented during final assessment and exams. Suddenly, he began to be colder and untalkative, I felt it not only during our lessons or tutorials, but also outside the university. He was responding only with one sentence or couple of words, we began to talk only about my essay. My first thought was that he was tired with all of his teaching, and began to blame myself for spending my time with him when he probably wanted to be alone. Clearly something wasn’t right. But when I asked him if something was wrong, Vincent dryly replied that it was all fine and he was just tired.

I left university for Easter holidays and for final weeks of studies and decided to work on my essay in England, at my father’s house: I made a decision to rethink our relationships with Renzi, but it was him who decided to abruptly cut them off.

My phone ranged.

“I’m calling to have a talk with you.”

My heart dropped.

“Don’t get me wrong, and, please, don’t blame yourself. It’s not you, Camille. It’s me. It was all my fault right from the beginning. You’re one of the most wonderful girls that I’ve met and I really like you…”, he made a pause, I heard his breath, “A lot. I honestly think about you all the time. But, I think that you’re too young for me”, he made a pause again, probably trying to find right words, and continued, “It’s all messed up and mixed teacher/student/lover relationships are surreal and feel not right. I think that both of us understand it, even if now we’re pretending that it’s all alright. I know that you understand me, Camille”

I don’t remember what did he say to me after these words. Probably, something like “I hope we’ll stay friends, I don’t want to sound like coward”. But I remembered how I silently closed the door to my room, closed all my studying books, get on the floor and cried uncontrollably for the rest of the evening.

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La Vérité masterlist

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 5. Fantasie in F Minor, Op. 103: D. 940

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“I’m celebrating my birthday this Friday and you’re coming, Camille”, Jean-Louis greeted me the other day in October, when the lecture with Vincent was about to begin.

For that moment my interactions with Renzi were longer and more frequent, and of course, Estella and Loise tried couple unsuccessful attempts to find out what happened between me and Vincent, how close we were and those kinds of things but I cooled their interest down: firstly, because it was none of their business, and secondly, those meetings with him outside the university walls were not romantic at all.

They didn’t leave to something more than just discussions about my degree essay, about films, art and books. We visited museums and cinema but never met in bars or somewhere more private. He kept his distance as I was keeping mine, not knowing what he wanted and what I wanted as well.

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I was always not into relationships, I didn’t really believe in them in general, besides my parents and grandparents got divorced and for a long period of time it was my evidence that all relationships would crack.

Before I met Vincent and before our affair started, I never had close and deep relationships with anyone. Even when I went on a few dates when I thought to consider the idea of having a boyfriend – everything finished with the simple kiss, nothing more. It didn’t bother me, even when all my friends were talking about how great their sex with their boyfriends was and all this kind of stuff, because at least I knew that I was waiting for someone special, even though it sounded very old-fashioned but I was raised in old-fashioned style and was proud of it.

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The first court hearing just finished and all three of us: Sandra, Vincent and I headed back to the woman’s place, discussing what could be done before the next hearing and what could be said during the process. My head was pulsing a little but it was a side effect of my job and I got used to it but with the help of headache pills.

The hearing itself wasn’t in the way of how I thought it would be: just a regular process, without any difficulties. But right when it started, I understood that not only the first one but all the other ones would be harder with every new one. Not only because of the harsh answers and questions from the prosecution, but also because of the evidence which we needed to collect. It would discover all the skeletons in the closet of our defendant.

During the process I pointed out how Renzi was glancing at me from time to time, but these glances were irritating me and I pretended not to see them, concentrating on the process. Even though it was exciting to work with him in the first few minutes – then I pulled myself together and the rest of the hearing ran smoothly. Of course I could still feel his eyes following my actions.

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I checked my black knee-length dress and my loose hair in the mirror near the bar’s entrance and entered the dark room with bright colorful lights and disco ball on the ceiling, holding a present for Jean-Louis in my hand.

The table for our birthday company was in the end of the room, near the bar desk: I recognized some students from our class, Estella and Loise included, and then my gaze dropped on monsieur Renzi, who was sitting in the corner of a big sofa, taking a sip from his drink. He also looked at me, his glance was long and followed me, when I reached Jean-Louis to give him a hug and give a present:

“Happy birthday, Jean-Louis”, I said loudly and hugged my friend, but tried to asked him something on his ear, “You decided to invite all of our teaching staff, am I right?”

He just laughed and winked at me, and tried to reach Vincent, “No, only monsieur Renzi, if you don’t mind”

I glanced at him once again, but shook my shoulders and quickly looked at Jean-Louis again:

“No, I don’t mind at all, it’s your birthday. So let’s celebrate it with a glass of whiskey sour”

It didn’t take much time for me to start dancing on the dancefloor to the beat of old music from 70’s and 80’s: it was a thematical night at the bar. When with every second of the music were carrying me away to feeling of nostalgia that I never had, I couldn’t help myself but was glancing at Vincent, who decided not to dance, but to sit on the sofa. At one point, Estella sat near him and accurately placed her hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear, which made me angry, but during this interaction my tutor was thoughtfully looking directly at me, without paying attention to Estella and she quickly left him, looking pissed.

Slow and beautiful song Domani è un altro giorno by Ornella Vanoni suddenly started to play on the background and I glanced at Vincent again: this was the song we’ve heard in Indian Summer, it was playing at the bar scene, it was romantic and deep at the same time and it was one of my favourite scenes in the film as well and I caught myself in a thought that both Renzi and I were in the almost exact same scene at that moment, especially when Jean-Louis who was dancing near me before the song started moved to me and asked to slow dance with him. I didn’t say no, and I wanted to make Renzi jealous.

Probably it was a successful move, because during the whole song he didn’t move his thoughtful gaze from me, when I looked directly at him as well, the tension between us was in the air, with every second and every move it was becoming stronger and unbearable.

In one moment, almost before the song finished, Jean-Louis looked at Vincent then at me, smirked and whispered in my ear:

“I think monsieur Renzi caught an eye on you, Camille”

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“She’s attractive, right?”, Loise asked Vincent, when he was watching Camille slow-dancing with Jean-Louis on a song from Indian Summer.

He stopped thinking about mademoiselle Cadieux only in terms of student-teacher kind of relationships a couple of days ago, before that evening, when surprisingly Jean-Louis invited him to his birthday. She interested him in everything, but most of all she attracted him as mysterious, attractive young woman with sad thoughtful glance. Renzi tried to take it out of his head at the beginning, but since those brief encounters with Camille outside university began to be more and more frequent – he stopped pretending that he didn’t care.

That evening at the bar must put all the dots on “I”. He was feeling it but he didn’t know how to begin. It was completely opposite than his regular court hearings. It was the matter of love and interest.

“Yes, she is”, Vincent didn’t turn to Loise, continuing following Camille’s moves on the dancefloor.

“But mind you, professor, she’s a tough one. She’s not like any other girl, she has her own secrets and she won’t open to anyone without trusting them completely. And she never did…”, Loise continued, moving closer to him, whispering on his ear, but he just moved forward, keeping distance from her.

“I’m able to figure it out by myself, mademoiselle Bisset.”

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The birthday party slowly moved to Jean-Louis’ apartment. Right when everyone was inside, Jean-Lois turned on the music on his record player when girls helped to serve drinks to everyone. Vincent curiously was walking around the apartment, when I sat on the big sofa, slightly drunk and completely tired from bar’s dances.

“How about watching a film?” – Alain, Jean-Louis’ friend, asked, laying on a couch with his drink in hand.

“Oh, yes! Let’s watch something good and old-fashioned”, Estella agreed, when Jean-Louis looked at me and smiled:

“Let Camille Truffaut decide then, I have a big collection of good classics”

Vincent finally returned from his excursion around the apartment and stood behind me, when I thought for some moments, and said:

“Well, since I’m Truffaut tonight we’re watching Truffaut’s Jules and Jim”

“Just how I thought”, laughed Jean-Louis, and pulled out DVD with Jules and Jim out of his impressive collection of cinematography.

The lights went off. When Vincent finally sat beside me on the sofa, and only millimeters separated us from each other – I felt how my heart started to beat faster with every second. I didn’t move. When the film started, after a couple of seconds, I felt Vincent’s hand was slowly moving towards my hand, I didn’t hesitate and finally my hand was in his. It was such a slow move that we didn’t think that someone would notice it. We didn’t actually think that someone would care anyways.

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“Camille? Are you asleep?”, I’ve heard Vincent’s voice from somewhere deep. Probably I fell asleep on our way back to town, as at some point I lost track of our quiet talks in his car and I didn’t even notice it.

“Had lack of sleep previous night, it happens to me recently”, I replied, looking at snowy road.

“Never noticed it, you was very active at court”

“Well, the hearing was tense and nervous, I didn’t have the opportunity to close my eye for a second”, I replied dryly, “And it won’t be easy for sure, not until the last one”

“And yet it feels like there’re going to be a lot more of them. I wonder how Sandra will handle this, I know that she’s very strong, but she can break under those circumstances”

Again, Renzi was talking about Sandra, and again I felt that strange feeling of jealousy inside me, I wondered if he ever was thinking or talking about me with anyone else, when we had our affair which I believed at some point, would last.

I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to look at him or be around him now. All I wanted was to get out of the car and cool my head by visiting hotel’s lobby bar. At the same time, I was thinking about that difficult case almost 24 hours a day with some pauses for bits of sleep, I wanted to be good and professional, it began to be a huge matter of my personal career. I wanted to beat my tutor. I wanted to beat Vincent.

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The film and the birthday evening were over. It was half past one and everyone began to leave Jean-Louis apartment. Vincent and I were the last ones, the door closed behind us and now we were standing alone in the hall, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Just as the elevator was slowly going up to us, Vincent’s hand was slowly raising up and when the elevator’s doors opened, his right hand was on my shoulder. I couldn’t resist no more. I turned around and we stormed into the elevator, kissing each other deeply.

For a couple of seconds, when the elevator was slowly going down, we were finally alone and we couldn’t hold ourselves back, the feelings that were circling around inside us were finally coming out.

We exited the building, the cold wind of late autumn night greeted us when we reached Vincent’s car. I got inside, and the door of the passengers’ seat closed. No words were spoken between us, it felt like we understood each other just by the way of how we looked at each other, it felt surreal, I couldn’t believe that it was my real life and I wasn’t in the film. The engines started and the car led us to the night full of opened deep feelings and things that couldn’t be said and done in the daylight before that particular evening.

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La Vérité masterlist

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 9 (Final). Suite Bergamasque, L. 75: Clair de Lune

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We talked through almost the whole night, while we were lying in bed. Firstly, it felt surreal: I forgot how it was like to lay on Vincent’s chest, when we used to spend nights together, years ago. Never knew that I’d felt the same thing again, after countless lonely nights.

The night seemed endless, we completely lost our time, talking quietly to each other, opening hearts and minds to each other without realizing how both of us fell asleep, when the winter’s sun began to slowly rise up behind the window.

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It was the last hearing of our case and surprisingly for myself I was calm as never before during the hearings of this case. Maybe it was because of the indications which Daniel, Sandra’s son, gave to the court, which could turn the whole thing in the different direction, but I was sure that it was not only because of it. The idea that Vincent and I finally sorted every confusion and misunderstanding out between us, giving the opportunity to start all over again, when all the mistakes were made and figured out.

My heart was beating fast when it was the time to hear the verdict. I looked at Vincent slightly, when I felt fingers of his hand slightly touching mine, only couple of centimeters were separating us. In that moment all my thoughts narrowed down into one small dot.

I don’t remember what I felt when we heard the acquittal verdict. It felt like it was real and surreal at the same time. But what I remember clearly how the relief covered my whole body and how strongly I was struggling to calm myself down and not to kiss Renzi deeply in his lips and put my hands inside his soft hair right in front of the whole court with judges and the jury.

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“I can’t believe that this whole thing is finally over. Can’t believe that tonight I’ll sleep calmly in my house, knowing that I’m innocent”

We were sitting in the café, celebrating the closed case. It was late at night, and almost all the visitors left the café, except for our small table which consisted of only three of us. This time it didn’t bother me at all, as Vincent’s was around my waist.

“All of us need a very good deep sleep. We deserved it”, Renzi replied, taking a sip from his bottle of beer.

“Agree”, I said, taking a look at the clocks on the wall: it was almost midnight.

“Are you planning to spend some time here in Grenoble?”, Sandra asked, looking at both of us.

“We, actually, got tickets to Paris, we’re leaving the day after tomorrow”, Vincent replied, when I added, placing my bottle of cider on the table:

“All I need now are two weeks off that’s for sure. My head was filled with all those details, I need to clear it off”

“I quite understand that”, Sandra smiled a little, and also looked at the clocks, “Oh, it’s getting too late, I should come home now”, she stood up, taking her bag.

We gave her a hug and said our goodbyes. It was so strange that it was all ending now, when we spent a lot of time together, during hearings. It felt like the part of me was also leaving me. My head was dizzy and I sat back on the chair. I didn’t see how Sandra left the room, when I heard Vincent’s voice:

“Are you okay, Camille?”

I opened my eyes slowly, looking at Renzi’s worried face, as he was holding both of my shoulders, being afraid that I’d fall from my set, but I felt myself well and secured. When he was near me.

“I’m fine, Vincent.”

“Tired?”

“Very.”

“It’s time to go back home”, he said softly, looking at me with that sweet calm look, as he did before. Now that look came back.

I just sighed and he placed his forehead on against mine and kissed it softly after some seconds. I quietly placed my head on his shoulder, when he placed his arm around my waist once again. It felt so calm and quiet. The stress left me and I finally felt myself secured. In that exact moment there were only two of us and no one else in the world. Ex-tutor and ex-student, two lawyers, two lovers and the tangled story that united us again. This time strongly and without turning back.

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Fin

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La Vérité masterlist