Page 35 of Hacking His Code
Initially, I had hoped it was some tech-savvy kid trying to make some easy money by exploiting my family’s tragedy. I’d pay him to go away, plain and simple.
But then I looked up the string of code sent with the email, and sure enough, it was from one of my aunt’s projects. It might not be Lucy, but it is most certainly someone that knew her or her work well.
Hopefully, this will all get sorted out soon, and catastrophe will be averted. But something tells me it’s not going to go as easy as I had hoped.
Arinessa
A clean,linen scent is the first thing that draws my attention as I wake, telling me that something isn’t right. I douse my apartment in vanilla to cover the smell of cigarettes left behind from a previous tenant, so fresh and clean is a luxury I’m not afforded.
My body tenses into a cloud of softness. The type of exaggerated plushness you see in a Disney movie.
My eyelids flutter open, alert, but the remnants of sleep linger. I’m not scared, though I have no idea where I am.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and slowly my memory begins placing the chain of events from yesterday together. I was kidnapped, brought to the lavish Davies estate, and given a job by the elusive Hunter Davies himself.
A man who is as handsome as he is arrogant.
And although that’s enough crazy for three lifetimes, it doesn’t end there.
I was primped and polished to attend his family’s dinner, being warmly accepted and even celebrated by his Hollywood royalty mother. Then, I spent all night researching a cold case.
How the hell is any of this even real? I mean, every single thing that’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours is not only unlikely, but downright insane.
I stretch my body, vanquishing the weariness from my muscles. Then, as I turn to my side, I see Hunter seated at the table I once occupied, sifting through files.
My heart races as I try to figure out how to exit the bed quietly as not to draw his attention.
As it turns out, my stealth skills extend only to online perusing, and the moment I hop off the bed, I stumble forward, shouting as I catch myself.
“Did you sleep well?” Hunter asks without turning to face me.
I still don’t remember how I got into Hunter’s bed, but there’s little doubt that I’ve just had the best sleep of my life. Not that I want him to know that.
“No, barely at all,” I lie.
“Nine hours of barely any sleep. That’s impressive.”
“Nine hours!”
Fuck me—I only have one week to solve a twenty-four-year-old cold case, and I just spent nine straight hours sleeping.
I rush to the bathroom to ready myself for the day. A shower sounds divine, but I feel like I need to assess the situation a bit first.
After freshening up, I tiptoe back into the suite, trying to figure out the best way to get Hunter’s attention.
He’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a plain white shirt that clings to his muscles. If perfection came in human form, it would take the shape of Hunter Davies.
He has this natural finesse that makes it impossible not to feel clumsy around him; his every movement looks as though it were rehearsed a thousand times before execution.
The only place I have any game is behind a computer screen.
He looks over at me, his honey-rimmed eyes full of amusement. “Hungry?”
“Ummm…yeah.”
“We have French pastries, fruit, bagels, all the fixings.” He gestures toward the kitchen. “If you’d like anything in particular, I can call it up.”
I reach into the fruit bowl at the center of the table. “I guess I’ll eat a banana.”
