Page 26 of My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend

Izzy

Idon’t know why, but Dimitri holds my hand as we head up the stairwell of my apartment building. It’s not a very big place, and unlike the tower where he lives, it’s a grungy little building filled to the brim with renters and rats.

Unlocking the door, I’m not proud of the mess of boxes on the floor still, or the array of unfinished unpacking gear in the kitchen nearly taking up what little counter space I do have left. There’s old navy paint on the walls, dented and scratched white from people and objects knocking into it before my time here. The floors don’t match, and I’m not sure who picked two different sets of oak shades of flooring, but I can only imagine it came from the clearance isle at the nearest home improvement store.

Beyond all of that, and the pathetic cot of a bed in the room nearby, Dimitri doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he launches forward to the far window, gripping the screen on the device that might be my second-best invention yet.

“What is this thing?” he asks, his eyes wide while he turns over the box of a computer screen in his massive hands, “This… this is an old microcomputer. How do you have one of these, Izzy? They are from the nineties.”

“Another gift from my parents,” I admit, “But this is going to help us break into the software.”

His eyes seem to glint with the realization as soon as I say it, “Because it can’t access the internet? You don’t have it set up yet?”

“I never have,” I breathe, “It’s never touched the internet before. Which means—”

He bounds across the living room, scoops me up off the floor, and pulls me into his arms so my feet no longer touch the ground. With a quick spin, I can’t help but settle into his strength, my lips falling naturally against his. He kisses back with more vigor, the intensity of his tongue damn near unbearable, but I love it too much to stop him.

When I come up for air, we both blush, and he releases me once and for all.

Landing on unsteady knees, I straighten my posture and blush through the awkwardness of such a moment. “Okay, we should probably focus on the software.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Whatever you say, Kitten.”

Pulling up a spare chair, he slides into the desk beside me, and I turn on the computer to the cute little ringtone it always offers. His smile is so cute and short, like he’s reliving something that was lost in his past. I know he mentioned he is thirty-six, so it makes sense that he probably had one of these growing up, but he comes from money.

I bet he upgraded every chance he got, while I was stuck with the original.

I pull out the cardboard box in glossy ink print and take out the drive of Ivica software. I bought it in the hopes that becoming familiar with the software would get me the job, but I ended up not needing it until this moment. Popping the floppy disk into the monitor, it hums as it disappears, and the screen comes alive.

“Okay, only problem now is that I can’t use the internet until we’re ready to do some damage.”

His brows pinch like he’s not following. I don’t wait for the questions; I just start with the explanation.

“If I mess with the software like this, it’s only going to ruin my version. If I connect it to the mainframe once we’re inside, and take a wrecking ball to the code, then Alek will feel it on his end.”

He eventually nods knowingly and replies, “Oh, okay. I get it. So, can you hook up your little backdoor finder to this thing?”

Biting my bottom lip, I retort, “No. We have to manually find the engine.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “That’s going to take a while.”

“Maybe. But it’s going to be worth it.”

He nods, his hand clutching my thigh, “It’s going to be worth it,” he repeats, “Well, little hacker Kitten. Get to it.”

I start my dive into the software, losing track of the world around me for what feels like light years. My head is on a constant humming cycle, my brain rattling and shivering in my head while I work to break into the system. It’s an easy thing to find the code past the typical customer’s window, and I make it inside the guts of the software fairly quickly.

Now, it’s just about getting to the engine and breaking into the darker side of things. My fingers are number-rummaging through the endless code, and the zeros-and-ones are starting to make me dizzy. Eventually, I come across the odd cursor of a break in code and I sigh in relief while I rest my head down on the desk.

“Finally. I found it, Dimitri.”

When I don’t hear movement, or his voice in reply, I begrudgingly sit up. Peering around the living room, I nearly jump out of my chair, seeing the once wasteland is suddenly well put together. My body shudders in shock, the coffee table is adorned with a lit candle that I didn’t know I had, and the small bistro set of a dining table is screwed together and sturdy—unlike how I left it in pieces and in boxes.

Turning the corner into the narrow kitchen, all the boxes are broken down and placed into a neat stack and tucked away near the trashcan I didn’t know I had. His sleeves are rolled up, the fabric bunched around his muscular, tattooed arms while he reaches for the top shelf of one of the cabinets, putting away dishes that have yet to be used.

I take in the sight, feeling like I stepped into a portal of an unknown world where the floor isn’t littered with cardboard strips, and the countertops aren’t covered in half-popped bubble wrap.

When I finally find my voice, I ask, “Wh-what have you doneto my apartment?”

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