Page 44 of My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend

“Listen, they’re going to take us somewhere safe. We have to let Alek believe that him calling the FBI on us for hacking is going to work, okay? They’re going to put us in handcuffs and—”

Her body goes taut in my arms, and a cold chill brushes through us both. I hold her tighter, kissing her cool forehead while she mutters under her breath endlessly. She’s so distraught that I can’t blame her. I don’t want this to happen, either. I just need her to understand that I can’t help this situation.

“It’s okay,” I whisper my lips on her temple. “I’m going to be there with you the whole time.”

“Are we safe?”

I stagger over my reply for a minute. “O-Of course we are, Izzy. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because I don’t trust Alek not to come after us again,” she says. “He attacked us at the club. He knows we’re trying to take him down. What if he doesn’t believe this ruse? He could come after us again.”

“Even more of a reason to go with the officers. We are safer with them than we are alone.”

She nuzzles into my chest even more. “Fine, if you say so, then I trust you.”

“Good,” I breathe. “Let’s go. We have to settle this.”

“But I don’t have any clothes, Dimitri.”

“I’ll handle that. The agent in charge can probably sort something out to get you some pants when we get out of here. I’m sorry it’s come to this, Kitten. I just wanted to protect you.”

“You have,” she assures me.

I feel lighter with that response. As long as she feels safe, and I’m content with her well-being at this point, then I guess she’s right. I’ve done a decent job so far.

Leading her into the main room, I talk to Mccoy about her getting some clothes. He has a female agent pick up some jeans on the way over, and they’re a tight, dark denim that matches the white of her shirt that she still wears from my closet. She looks great, and she doesn’t seem upset, but I know that’s not going to last.

They bring over the cuffs, and while they’re semi-loose and the agents apologize profusely as they put them on, it’s still a new, damning feeling. We’re both pinned to the wall out of formality, the front door flying open when a hoard of flicking cameras flash through the dusk overlay in the sky. The moon is out, the sun on its way up, as Izzy Bellerose and I are arrested under the dim lighting of the cameras’ flashing photos.

They lead her to the first car, shoving her into a tinted-windowed SUV. I’m escorted to the police car behind it, a tighter space that I’m happy they didn’t subject her to. It smells like old cigar smoke and molded fast food; the agents just as bothered by the stench as they push into the seat beside me.

Mccoy takes the front passenger seat of my ride, both cars zooming away from my fortress of a home.

“This is going to work,” Mccoy says to the entire audience in this car.

I press my head to the thick glass between us, littered with holes that let some AC through, but not enough. “I hope you’re right. She can’t get hurt in this situation.”

“I wouldn’t allow that.”

“Good, because if she does get hurt, I’ll come for you.”

He gives me a warning of a look, and no matter how amicable we may be outside of this façade, I can’t help but feel like a caged animal, restrained and territorial of what’s his.

And throughout this all, I know one thing’s for sure.

She’s mine.

CHAPTER19

Izzy

We’ve gone from a lavish home with a bed that’s like a cloud, to an underground building made of concrete walls, no light, and a tall, steel fence that has to be opened by two guards’ keys just to get through to the parking garage. It’s a tunnel that leads underground, my heart in my stomach while I try to adjust the cuffs behind me.

The agent sitting with me takes my arm, undoing the cuffs before we come to a stop in the long, dark parking lot. I tip my head in thanks, looking over my shoulder for Dimitri. When the long line of cars comes to a stop, my stomach is in knots, and the driver unlocks my door first. I jump out of the car and rush to the little car nearby, Dimitri coming out of the backseat with his wrists undone as well.

He catches me in a tight hug, as if we hadn’t just seen each other about an hour ago. My stomach groans against his chest, and he holds me tighter, kissing my cheek over and over until the agents tell us which way to go.

“Here we are,” Gage says, ushering us into a stairwell. We follow Dimitri keeping his arm around my lower back while we climb down to a lower floor. “Alright, everybody inside. I need all cyber-crime units in the main meeting room. The IT specialist needs to get set up in conference room B, and our targets can get comfortable in the break room for now.”

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