The courthouse lobby was a blur of navy suits, polished shoes, and the faint scent of coffee wafting from the nearby café. I adjusted my briefcase strap on my shoulder, scanning the crowd for my next appointment. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I approached the security checkpoint, my mind already racing through the strategy for Luigi Mugione’s case. Luigi Mugione. The name alone carried weight, not just because of the high-profile charges he faced, but because of the man himself. Arrest photos had circulated enough to make him infamous, but they didn’t capture the dangerous charisma that had earned him his reputation. Dark eyes, sharp jawline, and an air of confidence that could either charm or intimidate, depending on how you looked at it. I hadn’t met him yet, but I knew one thing for certain: professionalism was non-negotiable. No distractions. No personal entanglements. Just cold, hard facts and a plan to get him acquitted. “Ms. Y/N?” A deep voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see a man in a tailored suit approaching, his stride confident, his presence commanding. He extended a hand, and I froze for a split second before shaking it. “Mr. Mugione,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. His grip was firm, his palm warm against mine. Up close, he was even more striking—his dark hair slightly tousled, a five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw, and those eyes… they were intense, almost predatory. For someone facing serious charges, he seemed strangely calm, as though this whole situation was beneath him. “Call me Luigi,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. I didn’t reply. Instead, I gestured toward the elevator. “We should get started. My office is on the third floor.”He nodded, falling into step beside me. The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside. Alone together, the air felt charged, every inch of space between us crackling with unspoken tension. I stared straight ahead, focusing on the numbers above the door, but I could feel his gaze on me. “You’re different from the other lawyers I’ve worked with,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.I glanced at him briefly, offering a small, professional smile. “How so?”“You don’t seem nervous. Or impressed.” His lips curved into a half-smile, teasing but not cruel. “Most people can’t look me in the eye for long. You don’t even flinch.”“I’m here to do a job, Mr. Mugione,” I replied coolly. “And I intend to do it well.”The elevator dinged as the doors opened on the third floor. I stepped out first, leading him down the hall to my office. The walls were lined with law books and framed certificates, a testament to years of hard work and dedication. I offered him a seat across from my desk, taking my place behind it. “Before we begin,” I said, flipping open my notebook, “I need to know everything. Every detail. No matter how small. The more I understand what happened, the better our chances.”He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. “I’ll give you everything you need,” he said slowly. “But first, I want to know something about you.”I raised an eyebrow, my pen hovering over the page. “And what’s that?”“Why’d you take this case?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it, a challenge. “They say I’m guilty. They say I’m bad news. So why risk your spotless reputation on someone like me?”“Because everyone deserves a fair trial,” I replied without hesitation. “And because I believe in justice, not public opinion. Now, if we’re done with the personal questions, let’s get to work.”His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he finally nodded. “As you wish.”For the next hour, we covered the basics—his version of events, the evidence against him, potential witnesses. But no matter how focused I tried to be, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching me just as closely as I was watching him. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something neither of us acknowledged but couldn’t ignore. When the meeting ended, he stood, smoothing his suit jacket. “You’re good at what you do,” he said, his voice softer now. “I can see why they call you the best.”I gathered my notes, not looking up. “Don’t get too attached to flattery, Mr. Mugione. It won’t change the outcome.”He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m just stating a fact.”I finally glanced up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, it felt like time stopped, like the world outside my office no longer existed. Then, just as quickly, he straightened, his expression returning to its usual mask of indifference. “Until next time, Counselor,” he said, turning to leave.I sat there for a moment after he was gone, my pulse lingering in my throat. There was no denying it—Luigi Mugione was dangerous, in more ways than one. And as much as I told myself to keep my distance, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to let my guard down, just for a moment. A week later, I found myself standing in my apartment, my heart pounding as I tore open an envelope addressed to me. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. I unfolded it, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the words scrawled in bold, confident handwriting:*What would it take to make you look at me the way you look at your law books?*My breath hitched, the paper crumpling slightly in my grip. I wasn’t sure how to respond, how to keep pretending that this game—this *distance*—was still under control. Because the truth was, with every letter, every word, the line between professional and personal was blurring. And when I finally picked up my phone to text him back, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was doing it to keep him at arm’s length… or to pull him closer.

In the courthouse lobby, I met Luigi Mugione, a charismatic and confident man facing serious charges, and led him to my office for a consultation. During our meeting, we discussed his case, but I couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze and the unspoken tension between us. A week later, I received a mysterious letter from him, blurring the lines between our professional relationship and something more personal.

The courthouse lobby was a blur of navy suits, polished shoes, and the faint scent of coffee wafting from the nearby café. I adjusted my briefcase strap on my shoulder, scanning the crowd for my next appointment. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I approached the security checkpoint, my mind already racing through the strategy for Luigi Mugione’s case. 

Luigi Mugione. The name alone carried weight, not just because of the high-profile charges he faced, but because of the man himself. Arrest photos had circulated enough to make him infamous, but they didn’t capture the dangerous charisma that had earned him his reputation. Dark eyes, sharp jawline, and an air of confidence that could either charm or intimidate, depending on how you looked at it. 

I hadn’t met him yet, but I knew one thing for certain: professionalism was non-negotiable. No distractions. No personal entanglements. Just cold, hard facts and a plan to get him acquitted. 

“Ms. Y/N?” A deep voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see a man in a tailored suit approaching, his stride confident, his presence commanding. He extended a hand, and I froze for a split second before shaking it. 

“Mr. Mugione,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. His grip was firm, his palm warm against mine. Up close, he was even more striking—his dark hair slightly tousled, a five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw, and those eyes… they were intense, almost predatory. For someone facing serious charges, he seemed strangely calm, as though this whole situation was beneath him. 

“Call me Luigi,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. 

I didn’t reply. Instead, I gestured toward the elevator. “We should get started. My office is on the third floor.”

He nodded, falling into step beside me. The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside. Alone together, the air felt charged, every inch of space between us crackling with unspoken tension. I stared straight ahead, focusing on the numbers above the door, but I could feel his gaze on me. 

“You’re different from the other lawyers I’ve worked with,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

I glanced at him briefly, offering a small, professional smile. “How so?”

“You don’t seem nervous. Or impressed.” His lips curved into a half-smile, teasing but not cruel. “Most people can’t look me in the eye for long. You don’t even flinch.”

“I’m here to do a job, Mr. Mugione,” I replied coolly. “And I intend to do it well.”

The elevator dinged as the doors opened on the third floor. I stepped out first, leading him down the hall to my office. The walls were lined with law books and framed certificates, a testament to years of hard work and dedication. I offered him a seat across from my desk, taking my place behind it. 

“Before we begin,” I said, flipping open my notebook, “I need to know everything. Every detail. No matter how small. The more I understand what happened, the better our chances.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. “I’ll give you everything you need,” he said slowly. “But first, I want to know something about you.”

I raised an eyebrow, my pen hovering over the page. “And what’s that?”

“Why’d you take this case?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it, a challenge. “They say I’m guilty. They say I’m bad news. So why risk your spotless reputation on someone like me?”

“Because everyone deserves a fair trial,” I replied without hesitation. “And because I believe in justice, not public opinion. Now, if we’re done with the personal questions, let’s get to work.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he finally nodded. “As you wish.”

For the next hour, we covered the basics—his version of events, the evidence against him, potential witnesses. But no matter how focused I tried to be, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching me just as closely as I was watching him. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something neither of us acknowledged but couldn’t ignore. 

When the meeting ended, he stood, smoothing his suit jacket. “You’re good at what you do,” he said, his voice softer now. “I can see why they call you the best.”

I gathered my notes, not looking up. “Don’t get too attached to flattery, Mr. Mugione. It won’t change the outcome.”

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m just stating a fact.”

I finally glanced up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, it felt like time stopped, like the world outside my office no longer existed. Then, just as quickly, he straightened, his expression returning to its usual mask of indifference. 

“Until next time, Counselor,” he said, turning to leave.

I sat there for a moment after he was gone, my pulse lingering in my throat. There was no denying it—Luigi Mugione was dangerous, in more ways than one. And as much as I told myself to keep my distance, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to let my guard down, just for a moment. 

A week later, I found myself standing in my apartment, my heart pounding as I tore open an envelope addressed to me. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. I unfolded it, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the words scrawled in bold, confident handwriting:

*What would it take to make you look at me the way you look at your law books?*

My breath hitched, the paper crumpling slightly in my grip. I wasn’t sure how to respond, how to keep pretending that this game—this *distance*—was still under control. Because the truth was, with every letter, every word, the line between professional and personal was blurring. 

And when I finally picked up my phone to text him back, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was doing it to keep him at arm’s length… or to pull him closer.

You're (your name is Y/N and that's what you'll be called as) hired as Luigi Mangione's trial lawyer. You keep your distance, making sure it's professional, despite finding your client very handsome

You get hints that Luigi is attracted to you but you don't acknowledge anything... yet.  This changes when his letters and writing to you start getting steamy 

Beyond the law? A Luigi Mangione x Y/N trial lawyer story

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