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“I don’t need your sanctimonious advice. Leigh! Fuck you! Leigh! Don’t you dare hang up on… fucking bitch,” he growled as the connection was summarily cut.
Outside, the low rumble of his neighbor’s Harley kicking to life sounded but did little to calm the rattler hissing in his mind.
For years he had been planning to bring Hunter Sutton down. Years of following every step the bastard took in building his career, his empire that catapulted him onto the top ladder of the rich and famous… leaving Rocco behind with scraps. When Leigh came crying on his shoulder and the story of how she ended up at Castle Sin tumbled out, he believed he had hit the jackpot. Finally, he found a way to get close to Sutton, to strike when he was down and take away everything he had worked so hard for.
Just like he had done when Rocco went to him for help years ago. A single malt whiskey in hand, he walked onto the patio overlooking the ocean. His gaze turned turbulent as what he viewed as the deceit of a young man he had called friend replayed in his mind.
Cambridge College, Delta Dormitory, twenty-two years ago…
“Oh, come on, Hunter. Aren’t you tired of sitting behind that desk night in and night out? Everyone’s at the party. Let’s go and have some fun.”
“I’m on the brink of finishing this program, Mark. If it works like I believe it would, I’m shooting for the stars.”
“Come now, not another game? There’s no money in it. You’ve developed five of them already and got pennies for them.”
“Enough pennies to pay for my entire degree, and no, this isn’t a game. It’s… never mind. I tried to explain it to you numerous times before. You never listen.”
“Well, I’m not going to be a drag. I’m going to the party and drink myself into a coma.”
“Don’t expect me to come and bail you out if you get locked up for drunk and disorderly conduct.”
“Pfft. I’ve got the campus security wrapped around my finger.”
“Yeah, you have connections.” Hunter laughed as they high-five each other. “Mark Riccardo Watts, the connoisseur of women and ruler of men.”
“Don’t you forget it, buddy!”
Rocco took a long sip of his drink, savoring the smooth, decadent aroma on his tongue as he stared at the gentle sway of the waves crashing to shore.
In those years, he was known as Mark Riccardo Watts, his birth name, but his mother remarried after he got his degree and demanded that he change his name. Since her new husband was footing the luxurious life Rocco thrived on, he gave in and became Mark Riccardo Butler. His stepfather didn’t like the name Mark since it was Mark’s father’s name, and he didn’t want Rocco’s mother to have any reminder he ever existed, so he became Rocco Butler.
A name he had lived up to since Vincent Butler was a white-collar criminal of note. He was the one who fed Rocco’s hatred for Hunter, seeing as he had been forced to listen to his wailing when Hunter Sutton’s software design turned him into an instantaneous multimillionaire on graduation day. He would never forget the pride in his friend’s eyes the day the government signed a contract with him for the software that was to this day used for advanced facial recognition tracking. Something Rocco, his friend at the time, ridiculed him for, not knowing or caring what he had managed to develop.
“Fucking hell, Mark! I did it. My program works, and guess what the fuck else?”
“Geez, Hunter, relax. You look like a toddler realizing he just took his first step.”
“In a way, it’s exactly what I did. This is the first step to building my career much faster than I could ever have hoped for.”
“So, your program works. Big deal. Who do you think is going to buy it? You haven’t even gotten your degree yet. What is it, by the way? An advanced AI game?”
“Your interest in my work is rather disappointing, especially since I’ve explained it to you numerous times.”
“Yeah, ad nauseum, so don’t blame me that I nod off after the first detailed soliloquy.”
“I don’t understand you, Mark. You’re studying computer engineering, too, yet you have yet to develop a program to test your abilities. Aren’t you at all interested in making a name for yourself?”
“Yeah, not really. I’m the kind who prefers to ride the wave of another’s success. So, when you make it big, you do the programming, and I’ll do the sales. How’s that for a deal?”
Hunter grunted. “Success doesn’t fall into your lap, Mark. You have to work for it.” He turned to his computer to fine tune his program.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that sermon a couple of times before. So, you never said. Who are you gonna sell it to?”
“The government.”
Rocco burst out laughing, rolling on the bed with mirth, howling harder every time he looked at Hunter’s expression of disgust.
“Grow up, Hunter. You’re a baby playing in a pen with sharks. You might have sold teenager’s television games but punting software to the government? What planet are you on, my friend?”
