Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
There’s silence. I pause once I’ve got my stuff back on, his shirt tucked under one arm. I should hang it back up or maybe toss it in a hamper—but no, I came in here, I got myself off, and I’m keeping a prize.
I wait another few seconds for him to respond, but there’s nothing.
The red LEDs are still glowing in the ceiling.
I give it a little wave and blow a kiss.
“See you in a month,” I tell him, “and I’m keeping the shirt.”
Then I get the hell out of there with my new prize bundled under one arm before I do more stupid crap, though I’m pretty sure there’s no way I can top what just happened.
Chapter 2
Alexan
Six weeks until the wedding.
It takes me ten minutes to break into the senator’s email, another five to crack his Instagram password, six more to find his alternate Snapchat username, and three to download all his direct messages.
Including the extremely graphic sexual exchanges between him and various escorts, e-girls, and OnlyFans models.
For some reason, Senator Michaelson sure loves describing his penis in agonizing, exaggerated detail.
I wonder how his wife is going to feel about her beloved husband describing his genitals as “thicker than a redwood and longer than a football field” to a woman no older than his college-aged daughter.
Once all that rotten information is saved on my secure hard drive, I quickly cover my tracks and make sure there’s no way anyone will trace the hack back to me.
I finish up by shooting a quick, encrypted message to the Mantis, letting them know that I’m ready to send over all the information.
The car door opens. I close my laptop lid and look in the rearview as my boss, Tigran Sarkissian, gets into the back. We’re technically related, though I think it’s very distant, and we only got to know each other when I was hired to replace his former personal guard and driver. He’s the second most powerful man in the Armenian Brotherhood, a massive, sprawling crime syndicate that controls all of our hometown of Baltimore.
He nods at me, lips pressed together in a tight smile.
“Working again?” he asks, nodding at the computer.
“Just doing some digging for the Black Mantis.”
He grunts, smile fading. “I’m surprised you do jobs for those vicious fucks.”
“They pay well, and I figured you’d want me to maintain a healthy professional relationship with them.”
“That’s smart,” he says, nodding slightly, but he looks uneasy. “Still, be careful. The Mantis are goddamn ruthless. I hear they flayed a man alive for losing them a few thousand dollars last year.”
Which is genuinely no worse than what he’s done, but I don’t say that out loud.
“It was twelve thousand, and he already owed them thirty on top of that.” But Tigran does have a point. The Mantis are a secretive criminal organization based out of Taiwan with a focus on cybersecurity. If the scheme involves hacking, blackmail, illegal tech, or anything digital, they likely have their fingers in it.
And they don’t tolerate failure.
Lucky for me, I never fuck up.
I put the car in gear and get the engine warmed up. We’re parked outside of Arsen’s house, the patron of the Brotherhood. It’s an enormous, sprawling mansion on the very outskirts of town. They were in a meeting for the last hour while I knocked off that simple hack on my satellite wireless. As I pull out into traffic and head back toward the heart of the city, Tigran glances at me, and his smirk is back.
“We were talking about the McGraths today,” he says casually. “It’s been quiet on the war front ever since our agreement was put in place.”
Our agreement meaning my arrangement with Riley.
A flash of her lying on my bed. Her legs spread, her fingers gliding up and down her pussy. Her gasps and moans, the top buttons of my shirt undone, her hand massaging her breast, fingers rolling over a pierced nipple.
Fuck, that girl’s been trapped in my head ever since she broke into my house last week.
“That’s good,” I grunt at him, focusing on the drive.
“How are you feeling about it?” he asks.
“I’m feeling…” I tail off, considering how to answer. Then decide on the truth. “Uninterested.”
Tigran’s eyebrows raise. “You’re uninterested? That’s an odd answer, even coming from you.”
“The marriage is irrelevant. We’re only doing this to force a peace between our two organizations. It’s not like I care about the girl or even know her.”
Except I know the color of her lips as an orgasm rips through her pale skin. I know the way she smells, like lilacs and grass. I’ve been unwilling to wash my comforter for the past week, obsessed with that perfect scent.
It’s maddening. Insane, really.
I spent that night watching and rewatching the footage from her visit, over and over again, stroking my cock and obsessing over every little detail of her body, from her perfect auburn curls to the way she walks on her toes.