Page 32 of Code Billionaire


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“Okay.” I nod, and he slightly grins. That dimple on his chin appears, and I think my legs are melting to the ground at the sight of him. He seems larger than life, like how you imagine meeting a celebrity would be, but also how you feel around someone you’ve known your whole life. I can’t explain it well enough for it to make sense, just that he feels like a missing piece, and I need to keep him in my life at all costs. Otherwise, the proverbial cup of my entire existence will never be filled with a hole at the base of it.

He takes a step forward, and this time I do too. I let him kiss my cheek with his soft, warm lips and reflexively cup the sharp line of his jaw with my hand. I press my thumb into his dimpled chin as we stare into each other's eyes for a moment undefined by time. Shit, I’m in far too deep, and I barely know him. Who is this girl, and where is her practical brain when I need it?

“Goodnight,” he whispers, forehead pressed to mine.

“Goodnight,” I bite my grin, and he kisses my lips so gently that I feel like I’m floating. After he ensures I’ve made it into my car, he hops into his, and it heads out onto the road. I watch it for a moment, still in a daze, as it disappears around the corner. After I snap out of it, I lock the door and turn on the car.

“Scout Summers.” A bellowing voice asks from behind me. I don’t know how one is supposed to react in this situation; a strange man who knows your name is in the back of your car in the dark of night with possibly a weapon and ill intentions that screamSTALKER. I would have thought I might yell for help, try to throw a punch, or I don’t know… get out of the fucking car! But I don’t do any of that. I simply turn my head, so I can see the figure with my peripherals and meekly say, “Yes?”

Before he can answer me, something else boots in, like my adrenaline rush came late, and all of a sudden, I’m reaching for pepper spray in my console that I just now remember I have stashed. I’m about to spray, and I prepare for the horrible choking, stinging effects of releasing it in a confined space. Just as I hold my breath, a girth scream erupts from my throat that he immediately stops by fidgeting with something in the dark and shoving it up to my eyes. Now in my face is a shiny badge that says FBI, Agent Riggs.

“Franklin Riggs, FBI. Hacking Division.” I immediately think about our little blip in the system today and narrow my eyes at him, pepper spray still pointed at his face as he lowers the badge.

“You want to lower that weapon of yours, Ms. Summers?”

“I like it right here, thanks.” I grit through my teeth. “What do you want?”

“Allwewant is to help you.”

“I don’t need help, Mr. Riggs.”

“Agent.” He tilts his head to correct me.

“Agent Riggs.”

“Are you sure about that? You seem awfully tangled up with Tito San Giovanni, son of the most notorious Sicilian Mafia Family in the world.” See, this is why I would have preferred that conversation with Tito to happen much sooner. I mean, I imagined he was in the Mafia, was confident about that, but the leading family. Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into? Somehow, knowing this doesn’t change anything. My heart still longs for Tito, and all this makes me want to do is to throw this Agent out of my car and drive to his house to talk it out.

“Ms. Summers?” I raise my pepper spray that I must have lowered while recoiling from the effects of his information bomb.

”What do you really want?” I persist.

“Look, you’re a smart girl.” His tone changes ever-so-slightly, and I know I’m right that they hacked our mainframes and are throwing a tantrum because I didn’t give them what they wanted. Why do they want to steal mafia business anyway? “We want to stop the San Giovanni’s from creating, distributing, and ultimatelyusingadvanced technology.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Chaos was born from jealousy.”

“No need to be so cryptic.”

“Technology of this caliber, in the wrong hands, could be an all-out war between not just the mafia families in the states, but around the world. Is that what you want on your hands?”

“How is that my problem?”

“Well, it won’t be if you help us.”

“I thought you wanted to help me.”

“I do.” I raise my brows for him to continue.

“Triple what you’re being paid now to work for us.” I nearly lose my mind just thinking about that. In any other scenario, the pragmatic Scout would say yes, easily, unquestionably. So, why am I all of a sudden tongue-tied? Have I let a man do what I promised myself I wouldn’t let happen? Shit, I’m really in deep now.

“I— I can’t—”

“You don’t have to decide now. We’ll allow you three days to choose the right side of this situation.”

“And if I don’t say yes?” He leans closer to me, revealing his face to me for the first time. He’s very proportional, dark features, coal for irises, bald, and a hammy of a guy.

“If you don't say yes, we’ll have to act against the San Giovanni’s that will result in damage to the persons of interest, if necessary.” I grit my teeth because I don’t like that sound of that. My heart skips a beat, an anxious murmur at the thought of causing any harm to the San Giovanni’s. Especially the thought of Tito getting hurt because I failed to work this situation out.

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