Page 42 of My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend

The stocky cop in front wears a black hat, the offices behind him all in stripes and patrol gear, but that soon dwindles as the crowd behind him grows. Officers in all black where bright white letters that readFBI CYBER.

“Depends,” I reply at last, those words taunting me from their bulletproof vests. “Am I under arrest?”

“No, sir,” the office states. “We need to come inside, though. The fewer people that know we are here, the better, and I doubt your neighbors will miss the twenty agents on your lawn, knocking on your door.”

I give in pretty easily, not needing to be told twice that we should keep this under wraps.

I run a multibillion-dollar tech company and the cyber police are now at my front door.

Letting everyone in, they seem to settle rather quickly, bringing in droves of equipment and big briefcases that carry all sorts of technology. They’re all armed too, the thought of these people waking up my kitten in the back bedroom and having her come out to this scene is starting to worry me.

“Keep it down, please,” I hum. “I have company.”

“Yes, sir. We are aware of Ms. Bellerose being in your residence. We would prefer if she joins us for this talk.” His eyes shift to my questionable attire. “Maybe you should get dressed, as well.”

“Alright, can do,” I sigh.

Making my way down the hallway, I come around the bedroom corner to see Izzy sleeping so damn peacefully. I hate to wake her up like this, the hour just pushed into three in the morning, but I have to do as they say. Resting my hand on her warm, bare shoulder, I gently shake her to wake up.

Her eyes slowly flicker to the world, to me, and she smiles softly as though thinking of the last time she saw me. She was straddling my lap, and I’m sure that I made handprints on her sides where I maneuvered her waist back and forth against my cock, drilling out orgasm after orgasm that put her in this sleep state.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice tamed and demure. “Is everything okay? You look upset.”

“Not upset, just frustrated,” I whisper. “We have company, Kitten. I need you to get dressed and come downstairs with me.”

She looks at the clock curiously. “It’s almost morning, Dimitri. I have to get ready for work. It’s Thursday, and I have to get in early to lead the team before Alek makes me work on my flash drive again.”

I bite my lower lip with a bit of apprehension. “I hope there is a call-in option, Izzy. I don’t think you’re going to work today.”

“What? Why is that?”

“Sir,” the deep, bellowing voice of the officer says. Izzy pounces upright in bed, keeping the sheets clung to her naked, perfect body in the process. He pokes his head into the room, unconcerned with any hint of modesty. “Please. We need you both to come out to the main room right away.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” I mutter, shooing him away.

By the time he leaves, and I turn back to Izzy, her eyes are wide and horrified at the sight. “What the hell is going on, Dimitri? I hope this is a cruel joke. Was that the police?”

“Yes, and the FBI,” I add, shaking my head. “The cyber-crime division, at that.”

Her eyes nearly well with tears. “Are we in trouble?”

“No, I don’t think so. They would have arrested us already. We need to get dressed before he comes back and catches us naked, though.”

I rummage through my closet until I find a long sleeve dress shirt of mine for her to wear. I don’t think her clothes are much more than tatters on the office floor right now. She slips into it, pulling her long, tangled hair up into a knot on top of her head with the help of a rubber band. She looks simply stunning.

Simple enough to be just as stunning as always.

Meanwhile, I throw on some jeans and a tee shirt, coming to the living room with my kitten in tow. She holds my hand in an act of needy anxiety, her pulse pumping through her chest as she riddles with pressure. This situation isn’t being kind to either of us, I know that, and I’d rather her be okay and with the police, than to ever send her back to Alek’s office again.

I’m still not sure if they plan to actually arrest us or not, but I’m hopeful they don’t, my word the only thing I have these days and I refuse to be made a liar.

“Sit down, please,” the head FBI man says, his attire nothing more than an all-black suit and silver cufflinks. While everyone else looks like they packed their bomber jackets and bulletproof vests, this man looks better prepared for a civil discussion than a fight. “I’m agent Mccoy. Gage Mccoy. I’m the head of this investigation.”

Izzy squirms in her seat, wanting to sit beside me at the long, black dining table that separates the kitchen from the living room, but she’s on the other opposite side of me. The other seats are storage for the agents and their gear, the other agents all running around this room with their heads cut off.

“I know you both are probably a little confused, but rest assured, we have this under control.”

“How so?” I ask, probing his intentions so we can get this over with already.

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