Chapter 790: Lorena’s Powerful Background
My cock was hard as steel now, pressing painfully against my zipper. I adjusted myself subtly, but there was no hiding it—not when she was standing this close, not when she slled like sin and expensive perfu, not when every movent she made was a fucking tease.
Lorena’s dark eyes flicked to , sizing
up with a single, calculating glance. She didn’t smile. She didn’t need to. "May I see the case files?" she asked Sarah, her voice leaving no room for argunt.
Sarah hesitated, then shoved the stack of papers across the table.
Her lips—full, painted a deep, fuckable red—curved into sothing that wasn’t quite a smile, more like a challenge. "Can I talk to my client alone?" she purred, her voice dripping with authority, with promise.
Sarah hesitated, her face twisted in frustration, but she nodded, storming out with Diaz in tow.
The door clicked shut.
Alone.
Lorena’s gaze raked over , slow and deliberate, like she was undressing
with her eyes. She pulled out the chair, the movent making her skirt ride up just enough to flash the top of her stockings—black, lace, fuck—before she sat, crossing her legs.
The fabric of her skirt hitched up, giving
a glimpse of her thighs—thick, smooth, perfect—and I had to clench my fists to keep from reaching out, from spreading them right there and burying my face between them.
Lorena’s gaze burned into
as she leaned back in her chair, the movent making her blazer gape just enough to give
another tempting glimpse of the cleavage straining against her blouse. My mind flickered with images of peeling that fabric away, my fingers tracing the swell of her breasts before—
She pulled the file closer, her long, manicured nails tapping against the paper. The first page displayed my na—Jack Reynolds—along with the details of my company, my assets, my empire. Her eyes widened slightly as she read, her full lips parting in a soft gasp. "You’re Jack Reynolds?" she breathed, her voice laced with a mix of shock and sothing else—recognition. "Oh my God... I have seen you sowhere before. That’s why you seed so familiar."
I smirked, leaning back in my chair, my fingers steepled. "Glad I made an impression."
I leaned back in my chair, my smirk deepening. "Glad I left an impression."
Her attention snapped back to the file, and as she turned the page, my own expression darkened. The cri scene photo stared up at us—a man I knew. The guy I’d put down in Marina’s store, his lifeless eyes frozen in the image. The mory flashed through my mind like a movie reel—blood splattered across the floor, the cold weight of the gun in my grip, the way his body had crumpled like a ragdoll—all of it leading to her, to Marina, to the mont everything had changed.
Lorena’s eyebrows knitted together as she flipped through the pages, her lips pressing into a thin line. Each docunt laid out the murders I was suspected of, all tid perfectly with my arrival in xico. There was no direct evidence, but the circumstantial web was tight—my ties to Tony’s gang, my eting with Marina, Tony’s sudden and convenient disappearance. The file painted a picture, one where I was the perfect villain, the man pulling all the strings.
I stayed silent, watching her as she absorbed it all. I didn’t know the ins and outs of xican law, but I knew power—and Lorena had it in spades. I let my AI lens scan her, the data unfolding in my vision like a dossier:
Na: Lorena Hernández
Age: 32
Profession: Lawyer (High-Profile Corporate & Criminal Defense) Assets: $200 Million (Inherited & Self-Made)
Relationship: None
Background: Daughter of Chief Justice Arturo Hernández, one of the most powerful n in xico. A legal titán in her own right, known for taking on high-stakes corporate cases—and select governnt cases, pro bono.
The thought slithered through my mind like a serpent, cold and calculating. Lorena Hernández wasn’t so wide-eyed idealist playing at charity—she was a strategist, a predator wrapped in silk and legal jargon.
The way she carried herself, the way her sharp eyes missed nothing, the way she spoke with the kind of authority that ca from real power—it all scread the sa thing: This woman doesn’t do anything unless it benefits her.
And the pro bono cases? Please.
I let my gaze trace the lines of her body again—the way her blazer hugged her shoulders, the way her skirt clung to her hips like it was afraid to let go. She was polished, perfect, the kind of woman who knew exactly how to play the ga.
But I’d seen her type before. The ones who smiled for the caras, who took on high-profile cases for free just to get their nas in the papers, just to have judges and politicians owe them favors. The ones who built their empires on the backs of other people’s desperation.
And then there was Daddy Dearest—Chief Justice Arturo Hernández, the man who probably pulled every string in xico’s legal system.
I bet he loved the idea of his daughter, the brilliant, selfless Lorena, taking on governnt cases. It made her look like a saint, didn’t it? The dutiful daughter, the righteous lawyer, the woman who cared about justice.
Lorena’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and commanding. "Mr. Jack," she said, her tone leaving no room for bullshit. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, the movent making her blouse gape just enough to give
another tempting glimpse of her cleavage.
"I want the truth. No gas." Her finger tapped the file again, her nail clicking against the paper. "There’s no direct evidence, but all of this—" she gestured to the pages spread out between us "—points to you. Sohow."
I t her gaze, my expression unreadable. She had the kind of presence that demanded respect—authority wrapped in a body that made n forget their own nas. "Does the truth change anything?" I asked, my voice smooth, almost lazy, like I was discussing the weather instead of murder charges.
She didn’t blink. "Legally? No. But I need to know what I’m walking into. I don’t like surprises, Mr. Reynolds." Her eyes bored into mine, dark and unyielding. "And I really don’t like losing."
She paused, tilting her head slightly, her gaze flicking over
like she was trying to peel back my layers. "But there’s sothing else... Why didn’t you call your own lawyers? Why request a governnt-appointed one?"
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