“Ben?” My voice is scratchy.

“Melissa, I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Or early.”

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. He knows I’m usually in the office by six thirty. “I need you to go down to the police station on 62nd Street.”

It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ben to ask me to go to a police station. Early-morning calls aren’t strange either, but they don’t usually come in at this time. Being a state attorney comes with its perks—the satisfaction of knowing that I put the bad guys behind bars—but these visits to the police station can be tough.

“Okay,” I say, collecting my thoughts. “Who am I going to see?”

“Grayson Knight.”

That makes me sit up and wake up a little more. “The Grayson Knight?”

“The one and only.”

I’m surprised to hear the name. Grayson Knight, quarterback for the Miami Dolphins, is football’s golden boy and everyone’s favorite player, or at least everyone whose team isn’t playing against him.

He’s also seriously hot—not that it matters.

I run a hand through my tangled hair. “What’s he done?”

“Drug possession.”

My brows come up.

“He was arrested at Liv an hour ago.”

Liv is an exclusive club at the Fontainebleau Miami Beach, a hotel the rich and famous frequent.

“Grayson Knight is high-profile, and men like him think they’re above the law. We need to show him and the rest of the world that celebrities and sports stars are no different from anyone else who is caught with drugs. We need to make an example of him. I want you to go after Grayson with guns blazing. Getting a charge to stick to him won’t be easy. It’ll take my best. You’re my best, Mel.”

A burst of pride fills my chest at Ben’s compliment. I know he thinks highly of me. I know I’m good at my job—no, I’m amazing at my job—but still, it’s nice to hear it. And bringing down someone like Grayson Knight would be career-defining for me. It could be the case to push me up the career ladder sooner than I had hoped.

“I’ll get down there now,” I tell Ben.

“Call me when you’re finished.”

“Will do.”

I hang up. Pushing back my duvet, I turn my bedside lamp on and put my feet on the floor. I take a quick deep breath and then head for the bathroom to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, I’m ready to go, briefcase in hand. I’m wearing a black business suit and a white silk blouse, but my face is free of makeup and my long chestnut-brown hair is tied back in a knot.

I’m not out to impress here. I’m here to do my job: get the lowdown on Grayson Knight before he lawyers up with some hotshot from a big firm.

Leaving my apartment, I take the elevator down to the lobby. Earl, the night doorman, is sitting at the desk. He smiles at me. “Early start, Miss St. James?”