The Devil You Know by S.J. Coles

General Release Date: 24th May 2024

Word Count: 98,131
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 402

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE,CELEBRITIES,CONTEMPORARY,CRIME,CRIME AND MYSTERY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI,THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

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Book Description

The law is about how you represent the truth. Love is no different.

Reader advisory: This book contains a graphic description of murder and references to suicide, pedophilia, blackmail, pre-marital infidelity, and child pornography.

“And this is your final decision?”

“It is.” Dominic’s voice was even deeper over the telephone.

“Fine. ‘Not guilty’ it is.” Hilary caught his researcher’s eye. Beck grimaced in sympathy. “I’ll see you at the courthouse. Wear a conservative suit and a dark tie. Blue, if you have it.”

“I don’t.”

“Then buy one. Can your wife come?”

A pause. “I was not aware PR was so integral to a murder trial.”

“It’s more important in some cases than others,” Hilary said, earning a smirk from Beck. “There will be a press conference outside the court after the hearing. It would be good if you could be seen to be supported, especially by women.”

“Amelia’s coming, as is Eloise.”

“Good. See you there. Get the tie.” He cut off the speaker phone and shook his head.

“Jesus, sir. I think we’ve hooked a live one here.”

“Think the old man’s testing me?” Hilary said as he handed Beck some files.

“He’s always testing us,” Beck said sagely. “But that’s how we know he needs us.”

“Good to know. Can you start drafting our timeline? And get Simon to check the report dates. I’ll be back after the hearing.”

Beck nodded. “It’s done. Good luck, boss.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

When he arrived at the courthouse, Hilary went straight to the marble-tiled bathroom and surveyed himself critically in the mirror. He made sure that not a strand of his strawberry-blond hair had escaped its short tail and tugged his cuffs down to better conceal the swallows that were tattooed on the insides of his wrists. He was in his dove-gray suit with a tie in a soft green that Jasper said brought out his eyes. He pushed his glasses up his nose and took out his silver studs, putting them in his pocket. Judge Fotheringham was a progressive sort, but even she barred male counsel appearing in court with any more jewelry than a wedding band. He fiddled with his engagement ring a moment, then straightened his back. He left the bathroom, not analyzing why his appearance mattered more to him than usual, and made for the courtroom.

Dominic was approaching along the corridor—Amelia on his arm, Eloise at his shoulder. Hilary was gratified to see that he was wearing a dark suit, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and trim waist. He strode with the fierce confidence of someone who knew where he was going but with the stiffness of someone trying to leave something behind.

Hilary noted with satisfaction that he’d worn a navy tie. The dark tones accented his coloring and, combined with his grim expression, made him look at least somber, if not humble.

His focus landed on Hilary and stayed there as the party approached, despite the small gaggle of press that scurried alongside, firing questions as they held out mics and recording devices.

“What are you pleading today, Mr. Hart-Gosford? Why did you kill Lizzie Wood? Why do you hate women, Mr. Hart-Gosford? Were you abused as a child, sir?”

Hilary sent up a silent prayer then stepped forward, inserting himself between his client and the reporters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are not answering questions at this time. My client will give a brief statement outside as soon as his plea has been entered. Thank you.” He held his arm out in a practiced maneuver that kept the reporters back whilst allowing the Hart-Gosfords to pass into the nearest anteroom.

“Thank you, Mr. Whyte,” said Amelia as soon as they were alone.

“I’m afraid we should prepare for a lot of this sort of thing before this is over.”

“We understand that,” Amelia said, glancing at her stiff-backed husband, who was staring out of the window with his face set in hard lines. “We are prepared. The important thing is proving Dominic’s innocence.”

“I feel you should know, Mr. Whyte,” Eloise Hart said, peering at Hilary from under her starch-stiff sweep of platinum hair, “I have a meeting with Walter Gunnerson this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am. He told me.”

“I thought it only courteous to inform you that I will be asking to have you removed from this case.”

“Mother, you didn’t!”

“Dominic needs the best representation there is,” Eloise said firmly. “I will not accept anything less.”

“I’m sure Mr. Gunnerson will agree with you,” Hilary said with his warmest smile. “Now,” he went on, checking his watch, “we should be taking our places.”

He held the door open, and Amelia and Eloise filed out, but he pushed it to again before Dominic could leave.

“Stand when I stand,” he murmured. “Sit when I sit. No smiling.”

“Why would I smile?”

Hilary held the deep, black gaze for a moment longer than he had to, just to prove that he could, then opened the door again.

The courtroom was already full, the chatter buzzing like an excited swarm of bees in the air, building in volume as they entered. All eyes were on Dominic as he moved to the front of the wood-paneled chamber. Laurette Augustine caught Hilary’s eye from where she sat at the prosecutor’s table as he followed his client down the aisle. She raised her eyebrows minutely and Hilary gave a half-shrug. Augustine shook her head and turned to whisper to her co-counsel as Dominic and Hilary took their seats.

“All stand for the Honorable Mrs. Justice Fotheringham.”

There was the shuffle of fabric and the scrape of chairs as everyone stood. The murmuring hushed as the judge entered and took the bench. She was a small woman, with wiry, graying curls, but her eyes behind her thick-lensed glasses were sharp as knives. She opened her files, peering at the papers as the announcer instructed everyone but the defense and prosecution to sit.

“Plea hearing for Case 367-L CW, The Crown vs. Dominic Marcus Hart-Gosford,” the judge intoned and raised her head, her inscrutable gaze moving from Dominic to Hilary and back again. “Is representation for Mr. Hart-Gosford present?”

“Yes, my lady,” Hilary said. “Mr. Hilary Whyte of Gunnerson and Gains representing Dominic Hart-Gosford.”

“And the plea, Mr. Whyte?”

It seemed like the room held its breath.

“Mr. Hart-Gosford is not guilty, my lady.”

“Very well,” Judge Fotheringham said after a hesitation so brief no one but the counsel seemed to notice. “Parties to file all evidence and witness lists by the end of the month. The trial will commence in six weeks.” She banged the gavel and excited chatter broke out on all sides while she called for the next case.

Six weeks. Hilary cursed silently then ushered the family toward the door. Augustine caught his sleeve before he could follow them out.

“Hilary…a word.”

Hilary gave the Hart-Gosfords a reassuring nod then followed Augustine to an empty office. She shut the door behind them and stood in front of it with her arms crossed.

“He’s really doing this then?”

“He’s innocent.”

Augustine cocked an eyebrow. “You should know a lost cause when you see one, Hilary Whyte.”

“If it were a lost cause, you wouldn’t be here.”

Augustine frowned. “Defending this is madness. Lizzie Wood worked for the guy’s wife. We can prove any number of things that would be worth blackmailing him over, not to mention the stuff we know about but can’t prove. And he has no alibi.”

“You have no murder weapon.”

“We have his DNA at the scene.”

“One hair. It could have come from anywhere.”

“We both know the jury won’t see it that way.”

“The hair is either a coincidence or a lab error,” Hilary said, glancing at his watch.

“You believe that?”

“I can make the jury believe it. That’s all that matters.”

“Hilary,” Augustine said darkly, “the powerful rich guy killed a barely-managing girl after she tried to beat him at his own game, for God knows what sordid reason. He killed her brother, too, just for being there. They’ll throw away the key.”

“I know the prosecution service doesn’t want this to go to trial any more than we do,” Hilary said after a pause. “But the difference between you and the Hart-Gosfords is the family think any amount of bad press is worth him not going to prison. So we fight.”

“This case will make your career, Hilary,” she said softly, “but only if you win. And that’s a big if.”

“So I take it you have an offer?”

Augustine pursed her lips. “We have an offer.”

Hilary listened to her speak, schooled his face to neutrality and rejoined the family in the corridor.

“Mr. Hart-Gosford,” he said, “could we have a word in private?”

“What did she want?” Eloise said.

“It would be best if I discussed this with Dominic alone.”

“Nonsense”—Eloise clutched her handbag strap tighter—“we are in this together. Tell us what the prosecutor said.”

“It was an offer, wasn’t it?” Amelia said, her eyes wary.

“Mr. Hart-Gosford—”

“What was the offer?” Dominic asked.

Hilary glanced at the keen-eyed women, sighed and lowered his voice. “They’re offering manslaughter with diminished responsibility. Seven years. You’ll be out in four. If you change your plea.”

“Out of the question,” Eloise began.

“Dominic is innocent,” Amelia insisted, her eyes bright with anger. “He will not plead guilty.”

Dominic stared at the wall without speaking.

“Mr. Hart-Gosford,” Hilary said, “I really must insist on a word in private.”

Amelia and Eloise launched into protests, but Dominic nodded. “Very well.”

Dominic sat in a chair in the anteroom, crossing his long legs and folding his hands in his lap.

“Go on then,” he said. “Give me the spiel.”

“This is a good offer,” Hilary said. “Better than I thought we’d get. And accepting it is the only way to guarantee you don’t go to prison for the rest of your life.”

“You’ve never lost a case. Why start with mine?”

“I’ve never let a case with this little chance of winning get to trial in the first place.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes. “You think I did it, don’t you?”

Hilary hesitated. “I strongly advise you to take this offer.”

Dominic eyed him for a long time. “I thought you said you wouldn’t let your personal feelings affect your judgment?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Hilary said coolly. “I’m doing my job.”

Dominic brushed at his trouser leg. “You’ve changed since school. Is it so hard for you to believe that I have, too?”

“I will turn the deal down if you tell me to,” Hilary replied after a long moment. “But not because your family wants me to.”

“My family and I are united on this.”

“I want you to think about it,” he said. “Seriously think about it.”

“I take it you know all the reasons why the prosecution service doesn’t want this to go to trial?” Dominic continued, examining his fingernails.

“Because they think you’re guilty but can’t prove it.”

“More than that,” Dominic replied, weaving his fingers together around his knee. “The Ministry of Justice wants to present itself as blind to rank and prejudice. But the hard truth is, when the names of the rich and influential are dragged through the mud, it upsets the balance…the precious unity. And no one comes out of it well.”

“If someone commits a crime, they should be punished, no matter how much money they have.”

Dominic’s eyes went right through him. “I haven’t committed any crime.”

“We can’t prove that.”

Dominic tapped his finger off his knee. “Your fiancée. Does she believe in you?”

“He’s a he. But yes. Yes, he does.”

Hilary tried to decide if something changed in Dominic’s eyes. The silence stretched on for a moment longer than was comfortable, but Hilary couldn’t even begin to think why it was there, let alone how to break it.

“My wife believes in me,” Dominic said eventually. “Believes in my innocence. That kind of belief has power.” He shifted forward in his seat, looking up at Hilary through his thick, straight eyebrows. “I need you to believe in me, Hilary Whyte.”

“The offer is on the table for twenty-four hours,” Hilary said, heading for the door. “I suggest you think about it—for your own sake, Dominic. Not your family’s.”

The start of a smile that did not reach his eyes turned up the corner of Dominic’s mouth. “At least you’re calling me Dominic.”

Hilary opened the door. “I will call you in the morning for your decision.”

“Oh, and Hilary.” Hilary looked back. A smile of a different kind transformed Dominic’s face. “You really do look very fine in a suit.”

Fire lit under Hilary’s belly. He clenched his jaw, fighting confusion. He yanked the door wide. “The press is waiting.”

Dominic continued smiling as he strode through the door to join his family.

“Hold hands with Amelia as I speak,” Hilary instructed as they approached the entrance. “And remember not to smile.”

Amelia already had her arm through Dominic’s as they passed into the weak sunshine and the flashing of a dozen cameras.

“Mr. Hart-Gosford has this morning entered a plea of not guilty,” Hilary stated in his clearest, most level voice. “The trial will commence in six weeks’ time, when we look forward to getting the chance to prove his innocence. My client will now make a short statement, after which we ask for privacy for him and his family at this difficult period.”

Hilary stepped to the side as a dozen people shouted questions at the same time. Dominic stepped forward, his unfathomable gaze sweeping the crowd.

“I want to thank my family for their support,” he said, his voice loud and firm enough to cut off the barrage of questions. “I also want to thank my legal team for their tireless efforts.” His focus landed on Hilary and again that tickle of something uncomfortable started up under his belly. “Their belief is sustaining me during this time of doubt and fear. But I know, in the end, the truth will win the day. Thank you.”

The Hart-Gosfords pushed their way through the crowds of reporters to where Merriweather was waiting, holding the door to their limousine open. Hilary caught up to Dominic just before he climbed in.

“Promise me you’ll think about it,” he said earnestly.

“I’ll think about it, Hilary,” he said, smiling. Merriweather gave Hilary an inscrutable look then Dominic climbed into the car.

Hilary watched the limousine pull out into the traffic with the uncomfortable feeling spreading out from his belly into his chest. He’d had clients flirt with him before—men, women, married, single. In his experience guilt, desperation or arrogance manifested in strange and often inappropriate ways. But…Dom Gosford? Married, straight Dom Gosford? Dom Gosford who had once been the best person in the world at convincing Hilary he was less that worthless?

He must have read it wrong. That was the only explanation.

But even that didn’t explain the tickle of electricity Dominic’s look had sparked in Hilary’s chest.

He felt sick. He hurried to his car, breathing deep until the unwelcome sensations passed.

Hilary spent the rest of the day fielding phone calls from the Crown Prosecution Service, court scheduling clerks and Beck, who was out following up on the witness statements. He only ate because his PA Janice brought him a panini at mid-afternoon and stood over him until he took a bite. His personal phone buzzed with notifications and messages, many from Jasper. The third time he’d tried to ring, Hilary had canceled the call, fired off a text—Busy. Talk later—and turned the phone off, something he’d never done before in the whole of their relationship.

He didn’t let himself analyze why.

He was so engrossed with background checks and evidence lists that Janice had to clear her throat to make him aware of her presence as the clock ticked toward six p.m.

“Mr. Gunnerson wants you, sir.”

Hilary downed his cooling coffee, sent the three draft emails still sitting open on his computer screen and followed her.

Walter Gunnerson was a squat, round man with a receding hairline and small eyes that were comically enlarged by a pair of bottle-bottom glasses with bright red frames that made him appear almost childlike. The other senior partners had attempted to get him to switch to contact lenses a number of times, stating that it would make him look more professional, but he insisted that he found it useful to be consistently underestimated.

Though prosecutors rarely made that mistake twice.

From the knowing look directed his way as Hilary walked into his vast, drafty office, Hilary deduced that Gunnerson not only knew everything about his case but probably had already figured out how it would end. He knew better than to ask, even though his employer had the unnerving capacity to be right most of the time.

“The law is a tool,” he’d said to Hilary when he’d joined the firm. “You only learn how to handle it by using it yourself.”

“Mr. Gunnerson,” Hilary greeted him. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Hilary,” he said, indicating one of the worn leather chairs in front of his desk. “Though it really is evening, now.”

“You’re right, sir. Busy day.”

“I hear Hart-Gosford went with ‘not guilty’ after all.”

“That’s right, sir. Though the prosecution has come back with an offer I’ve urged him to consider.”

“Yes, I heard that, too,” he said, carefully tapping a sheaf of papers together with his small, stubby hands. Mr. Gunnerson rarely did anything by email. “It’s highly unlikely that he’ll take it, just so you’re aware.”

“I gathered as much. But at least we have it on record that we made him think about it.”

“Indeed.” The old man leaned his leather-patched elbows on the table, peering at Hilary over the top of his glasses. “I take it you would like to know how my meeting with Mrs. Eloise Hart went?”

“I think I can guess, sir.”

A smile stretched the thin lips. “Eloise and I go back a long time—longer than either of us cares to remember, truth be told. I know better than to not at least make a show of addressing her concerns.”

“Of course, sir. And if you believe her son-in-law would be better represented by someone else—”

“Oh, heavens, no,” Gunnerson said. “The only chance that boy has of winning over a jury is with you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The set look on his boss’s face told Hilary that he wasn’t fooled. “It’s a rite of passage, Hilary, attempting to prove the innocence of someone one wouldn’t get caught dead in a ditch with.”

Hilary suppressed a grimace. “My personal feelings don’t come into the matter.”

Gunnerson chuckled. “Well, the best of luck with that. And, just so you know, I’ve scheduled a case review with the whole bally lot of them, just to smooth the ruffled feathers. It’s probably best you aren’t present.”

Hilary nodded with relief. “Yes, sir.”

“Have you been allocated a barrister yet?”

“Not yet. But I’ve been trying to set up a meeting with Tarrant.”

Gunnerson raised his bushy eyebrows. “That would be a coup.”

“I haven’t even got as far as her under-secretary yet. But she’s worked with Judge Fotheringham for years. And she represented the Braithwaites in their criminal negligence case last year.”

“And won, if I remember.”

“Yes. But, as I say, her office hasn’t returned my calls.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Gunnerson said, scribbling something on a sheet of his monogrammed notepaper. “I’ve worked with Anna a couple of times. She may let me put a word in her ear.”

Hilary resisted smiling with some effort. “Thank you, sir.”

Gunnerson leaned back in his chair. “The Harts have been clients here for generations, Hilary. They are a very good family to have on our side—a very bad one not to.”

“I don’t intend on getting on the wrong side of anyone,” Hilary said with conviction. “But I won’t lie to them, either. There’s not enough truth available in this case to sugarcoat what’s left.”

“The prosecution won’t do them any such courtesy. We can’t afford to, either, as much as Eloise might disagree.”

“I have to be honest, sir. Making a jury believe this man is innocent is going to be…a challenge.”

“Do you believe it?”

Hilary hesitated. “It’s what he’s told me.”

Gunnerson surveyed him narrowly. “It would be helpful if you could bring yourself to believe him—not vital, but helpful.”

 

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S. J. Coles

S. J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.

She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.

Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.

Find S. J. Coles at her website and follow her on Instagram.

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