My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend
Chapter 12

Dimitri

I pace outside my competitor’s building, hoping for a mere glimpse of the prick who cornered Izzy yesterday. She calmed down last night, well technically this morning in the earliest hours before sunrise, and we overloaded the system so much that I can only hope the software crashed. As long as she focuses on that attack against Alek’s software, then we won’t have a problem.

I know she’s typically the last to leave, just by what I’ve observed in the past. While I shouldn’t be stalking this little coding Kitten, I can’t help myself. Leaning back against my car door while parked outside the front of the building, I think about the night we have planned together.

The newest band in Seattle booked my club tonight, and something tells me we both need the distraction.

Alek comes outside confidently at first, chin jutted out in pride. It doesn’t last, something darker comes over his features as he breaks away from his pack and approaches me. He stands on the sidewalk, while I maintain my spot on the curb, settled with the fact that if he comes much closer, I will have reasonable suspicion that he’s going to harm me—thus giving me permission to c**k my fist into his nostrils.

Or at least, that’s what I’d tell the authorities.

“I yearn for the day when I don’t see your face outside my building unprompted.”

I roll my eyes exasperatingly, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure. You haven’t called me for an updated meeting, though. What happened to controlling the market together, as you used to put it?”

“We need space,” he replies simply, “I’m putting out fires at work. No thanks to you.”

“Me? Why would you sit here and assume that I’m doing anything to start fires at your place of work, Alek? It’s not like, and I’m just saying hypothetically of course, that you cornered my girlfriend and threatened her with the loss of her job after bruising her arm or anything. Only then would we have a problem, Alek.”

His eyes dart sideways, as if trying to get out of this circumstance with ease, “Listen, what I say to my employees is my business, not yours. And we have the NDA she signed, so I hope you’re not saying she’s accused me of anything. That would really put a damper on her job situation.”

I nod knowingly, hating this bastard more and more by the minute, “Yes, well. I did mention it was hypothetical, of course. So, I think you should move on with your evening, Alek.”

He seems sturdy at first, but that rock wall of confidence slowly drifts to sand in the wind, exposing the frail mole rat beneath the posturing man in a suit that stands before me.

I spy my petite Kitten in the lobby, and the slightest thought of him hurting her has my boldness reaching new heights. Staring him dead in his cold, inky eyes, I add, “You ever touch her again, or think to threaten that woman, and you’ll need more than some flimsy NDA to take either of us down. Don’t forget that my father gave you this wealth, and what a poetic end it would be for me to take it out from under you just as fast.”

He sneers, though I know he resorts to childish antics when he feels threatened, “Yeah, well you can stay out of my way, boy, or I’ll take you down just as easily as I it took to takeyour father down.”

Izzy breaks the tension, at least on the surface, when she scampers forward and tucks herself instantly into my arm. I can’t help but hold her tight, and reassure her that she’s safe with me here, even in the eyes of the hunter before us.

“Like I said, Alek,” I sigh, switching courses, “I’ll see you around. Have a nice evening.”

He puffs his chest into the air and marches proudly down the sidewalk without another word. I don’t let it bother me in the slightest, Izzy brushing her cheek into my chest until he’s finally out of sight, but never out of mind.

“That was intense,” she mutters, “What were you two talking about before I got here?”

“Nothing at all, Kitten. Come on, I have somewhere for us to go tonight. You still have that sexy little leather outfit, right?”

She blushes and nods, “Of course, but I thought you said I look better in my pencil skirt and blouse.”

Opening the passenger door to my sports car, I catch a glimpse of her perfect curves as she slides into the seat, my mouth fighting the urge to salivate.

“Technically, Kitten, you look better in nothing, but the pencil skirt isn’t bad.”

When I climb into the driver’s seat and take off, she asks meekly, “Why do I need that leather outfit anyway? Where exactly are we going? It’s just a Tuesday night.”

I scoff in my tone as I reply with, “Just a Tuesday night? Come on, Kitten. It’s much, much more than that.”

“Is it a holiday or something?” she asks, mostly speaking to herself, “Oh, is it your birthday? Happy fiftieth birthday, Dimitri.”

I scowl slightly, “Very cute, Kitten. I’m not that old, though. I’m only—what is it—eleven years older than you?”

“The rumor mill will work overtime wherever we’re going. I’ll look like a gold digger, and you a cradle robber.”

I bite back a laugh, something charming about her ability to banter right back at me without hesitation, “You know what, Kitten? I think you’re going to be sorry for these comments later. I have a fun night planned for us, and you are going to ruin it with all your ageism.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she sighs, “But seriously, where are we going?”

I don’t tell her. And I don’t intend on telling her, either.

Instead, I take her home and watch her shift through a million outfit combinations. That pretty and tight leather skirt is back in action, this time with a black top that hugs her body like a sculpture. She’s too damn good-looking to be walking around this world without wings.

Or without her body adorned in diamonds and rubies, an expensive and exquisite touch to a body so simply made, and wonderfully perfect.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

I glance up from my trance, picturing her body against my mattress, her hands on my headboard, and her legs parted for my needy c**k. Looking at her simple makeup and her red lipstick, I picture the ring of red around another round object, my thoughts forcing me to cross my legs uncomfortably.

I wish now that she had some damn couch pillows, I could push into my lap.

“No, sorry, Kitten. I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I’m ready to go, Dimitri. I’m going to take my purse, though, and bring the flash drive. With everything going on, I’m a little worried about leaving it laying around.”

“I can understand that, Kitten. But I assure you, you’re safe with me. If it helps you ease your mind, we’re going back to my club tonight.”

She seems to take well to that assurance. Something tells me she’s not used to such promises, let alone having them be kept after hearing it said to her. I brush aside the memories of her traumatic past, her rocky life leading to this moment, and I shove my phone into my pocket and walk her into the hallway.

She looks up at me with wide, brown eyes, like caramel oozing onto her dark eyelashes that only makes her look sweeter than before. She’s so innocent that it makes me want to do very bad things to her body, and very wonderful things to her mind.

“Come here,” I pant, pinning her in the elevator. She hiccups, probably wishing we took the stairs, but the opportunity was too good to pass up, “I need you, Kitten.”

The doors shut, and she m***s through the k**s that I push onto her lips, the feeling of her skin so delicate and warm against my own. She holds my face lightly, but control is sort of my thing, so I take her wrists and pin them over her head, just enough to stretch her back off the wall so her breasts push into my chest.

“Dammit,” I grunt, the finality of the beeping elevator making my b***d boil.

We exit the carriage, and she snickers a laugh, using her fingertips to scrape the messed-up lipstick off her skin and back onto her lips. She walks in front of me, taunting me, and I nearly bend her over the hood of my car when we get to the street.

I open her door but take the end of her skirt into my palm, pulling her back to me.

The shock and anticipation in her eyes is enough to let me know if I wanted to have her right here, she wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“You can taunt my age,” I whisper, speaking into her loose, natural curls, “but if you think you can taunt me with your sexy body, Kitten. You’re in for a wild ride tonight.”

She grins wider, “Good. I want to have a redo in the green room.”

I release her skirt with that promise, and I practically teleport the car over to the bar, taking her hand in mine while we shift through the growing crowd inside. She hurries behind me on her thin heels, and doesn’t stop until we’re in the back hallway, skipping right to the good part.

“We were supposed to be watching the band play,” I gust, leading her through the back halls.

“We still can,” she says, gleaming, “I just want to catch up where we left off from last time.”

“You and me both.”

We nearly make it to the green room when something else catches my attention. The back door is propped open with a flowerpot, the outside breeze damning while I c**k my head at the sight. The back door is supposed to be latched with the alarm set at all times.

It’s never just open and parted for all to come inside.

I drop her hand and motion for her to stay put, making my way down the hall to kick the flowerpot back. The door shuts, and I set the alarm, turning just in time to see Izzy with her back against the wall, and a masked man’s palm loosely pinned around her precious throat.

Fire licks my skin, and rages through my b***d, the sight so appealing that I can’t seem to catch my breath. Coming closer, more thugs with masks on file out of the green room, surrounding her and myself with nothing but raging music playing over the prospect of us calling for help.

I don’t need help, though.

I push my way to her side, racking my fist into the man’s cheek that holds her to the wall. He stumbles, and two others have to gain possession of my arms while the third comes back to a wavering stance before me.

He shakes his head, something dark and unwelcome in his eyes when he looks at her, “Give me your purse.”

She swallows hard, tucking it behind her leg. Even I know it’s pointless for her to resist, the man yanking her by the shoulder, turning her quick, and shoving her chest into the wall. She squeals slightly, his hand brushing her h*p while he takes the purse into his grasp.

He turns to me next, the men gripping my arms and putting up one hell of a fight, “I’ll take this.”

His hand presses into my pocket, grabs my phone, and then adds it to her purse. Izzy doesn’t move, petrified while he pushes past her. The other two men let go of me with a damning shove, sending me to the ground while they bolt out the back door.

Sirens scream over the loud music, and Izzy kneels beside me with tears in her pretty eyes.

“Are you okay?” I hiss first, checking her neck to make sure he didn’t wound her too badly.

She shakes her head, “They have my purse, Dimitri.”

“It’s okay. I can replace that and everything in it.”

Her teeth grind slightly before she adds in a sober tone, “No, Dimitri. The flash drive… my software… the code we used to break into Alek’s system… It’s in there.”

The realization hits me, something in my gut telling me that this attack was orchestrated by Alek Ivica.

The only thing worse than that is if it was perpetrated by him, then it means what little hope we had of keeping our hacking on the down-low is officially over.

He’s going to know it was her that broke the backdoor down, and with my phone holding the music we just jampacked into his coding to fry the system, there’s no hiding my fault in it, either.

Control is important to me, and I just let it slip through my fingers.