Hacking His Code (Beguiling a Billionaire Book 7), page 11
I look through the peephole at a rainbow-haired Neon in an audacious orange and green dress.
I open the door and pull her inside the suite. “Thank God you’re here!”
Her face contorts into a concerned expression. “So, that hair of yours…it really has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?”
“And that mouth of yours really doesn’t know when to shut up, amirite?”
“Touché!”
We proceed to the bedroom, and Neon grabs all the toiletries and cosmetics we used the other day, setting them out on the vanity.
She presses the shampoo and conditioner bottles into my hands. “Go shower while I look through the outfits.”
My stomach twists with anxiety. Yesterday, a quick Google search told me that the shampoo alone is $240 for only twelve ounces, which is more than the price of every shampoo bottle I’ve ever owned put together because my poor ass doesn’t spend more than two dollars a bottle.
This is nothing to him. Just wash your damn hair and get on with it.
I shed my pajamas and enter the shower for the first time, wishing I were taking another bath. It extends back further than I would have imagined, into a cove lush with foliage.
It’s a sight to behold, like I’m entering a jungle. A week ago, I had no idea that showers like this existed.
My own shower fixtures are rusted, with only three tiny streams of water that trickle down. I have no idea how I’m ever going to return back to my slum of an apartment, but it’s going to be soon, so it’s best I not get too comfortable here.
A panel on the wall contains several buttons and dials, and I figure that must be how to turn it on. I push a button, and a heavy mist fills the air. I push another, and jets come to life. I toggle the temperature dials, getting it to the perfect level of heat before entering the misty stream, stretching my body as every inch of it is doused at once. The smell of the shower plants invigorates me, and I wonder if they were strategically picked out like how some use essential oils.
I exhale out my anxiety, determined not to let life overwhelm me, but I’m about six years too late. I’ve been struggling to survive for far too long, and for the first time since my juvenile mishap, I realize that I have to let go and work towards actually living instead of bracing for whatever inevitability is coming my way.
I can’t continue on the way I was, and from this day forward, I’m going to focus on becoming the best version of myself. Starting with learning how to relax.
It is an indisputable fact that I would have significantly less stress if I woke up to the Hunter Davies’ shower treatment each morning. The only thing I reckon that could make it better is having Hunter in here himself. His body pressed against mine. His hands on my hip. His lips pressed on my neck. Like I’ve seen in so many movies.
But then I guess that wouldn’t exactly take away the stress. It would introduce a completely different form of it.
“Hurry your ass up!” Neon shouts.
My shoulders slump at the thought of leaving the tranquil cove, but the last thing I want is to keep Ernestine Whitmore waiting, so I allow myself one more glorious minute of divine water pressure before exiting the shower with my hair in a towel.
Neon motions for me to take a seat and grabs one of several combs set out on the vanity.
She rips off the towel and sighs, taking a few strands between her fingers to investigate. “Your hair really does a good job of weaponizing moisture.”
“A war I’ve been fighting my entire life. My mother used to hack off my hair when I was little. It was so embarrassing.”
Her hands move quickly, pulling and pushing my head as she works her magic. “The sad thing is you have great hair; it just takes a lot of work.”
“So, where’s the rest of your squad?” I ask.
“We had a bridal party scheduled for today, so Vanessa and Joey are working that. Hunter pays too well to ever deny him.”
“What’s it like working for Ernestine?”
“She’s not at all what you’d expect her to be like. I’ve signed an NDA, so I can’t really say too much, but she’s fun. One of my favorite clients.”
“I’m so nervous about having brunch with her.”
Neon snickers. “Don’t be. I have clients that are outright aggressive, making you feel inferior. Like you’re not even worthy of breathing the same air as them. Ernie is not like that.”
“Ernie?”
“That’s what we call her.”
In no time at all, Neon has my hair done perfectly, not a strand out of place.
“Thank God you came. I feel like Ariel from The Little Mermaid with all the crap you guys left behind.”
“I’ll write up what each product is for, so you can make sense of everything. You have a great base to work with. Your skin is enviable, and your hair, though difficult, is full and capable of many different styles.”
I look at my phone, hoping for a text from Hunter, not that he owes me one. I’m just an employee, after all. He probably hooked up with someone and fell asleep at their apartment.
Oh well.
Maybe it would be better to just call this whole thing off. I’m already positive that Lucy is dead, and chances are, I’ll never find her. At this point, I’m basically just putting together a psychological profile, which is not my area of expertise, and puzzling together interpersonal relations.
It’s just not worth embarrassing myself.
It’s not like it’s going to matter. You’re never going to see her again, unless maybe it’s serving her breakfast at some café you end up waiting tables at, and even then, it’s not like she’ll remember someone like you.
I push all thoughts of Ernestine from my mind and force myself to look at the racks of clothing with Neon.
Everything she pulls out is just too much. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself, and the outfits she picks all have either extreme glitter or a color palette as blinding as the sun.
I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t wear a gown, but I don’t want to look too casual either. I’m half-tempted to send a text to Hunter, but I don’t want to bother him with trivial things such as wardrobe choices when he’s probably out making big company decisions.
Or fucking some high-classy woman.
Ouch! I wince at the thought of Hunter wooing some proper lady, which is silly because in no universe would I ever stand a chance with a man like him. Someone so handsome that he could turn the heads of an entire room and with enough money to buy a small island to boot. Or…several small islands. Perhaps a large island. Who the fuck knows?
I grab a strapless dress from the rack, examining it closely. It’s mauve, which works great with my hair, and I like how it’s smocked at the waist.
“This is what I’m wearing.”
Neon frown. “It’s—”
“I don’t care that it’s Hunter that pays you. This is what I’m wearing.”
“Fine. Let’s get you dressed.”
Hunter
“I’ve completed all the upgrades to the InKrypto platform. It’s locked down tighter than a nun’s asshole.”
My father’s sullen face stares back at me from behind his computer terminal. “That’s good to know, and I appreciate the colorful language.”
“I hear R&D is ahead of schedule.”
“Also good.”
“Our Formidable Businessman ranking will probably take a hit this year, especially with Icor and Dallanger teaming up, but we haven’t lost any customers. If anything, we’ve expanded—”
“That’s really great. Now, is there anything important you have to tell me, or are you just killing time?”
“Killing time? That sounds—”
“You come in here and tell me a bunch of shit I already know, then carry on with more shit I already know, when you’re supposed to be up there with your girlfriend doing…well, I shouldn’t have to spell it out.”
“Arinessa is fine. She’s hanging out up in my suite while I—”
“I know you were working all night.”
I downcast my eyes, hating that I’ve disappointed him.
After seeking out an old acquaintance from the FBI yesterday, I couldn’t return to my suite. I couldn’t face her. So, I hid out in my office and slept slumped over onto my desk. It wasn’t comfortable, but I couldn’t afford the comfort of my bed…or Arinessa.
“What can I say? I couldn’t stay away too long. I’m married to my job.”
Father leans back in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Guilt needles me, but I met with my father for a reason, and I have to see this through. I need to find out more about his friendship with Aunt Lucy.
“Nothing wrong with a son following in his father’s footsteps, and doing a damn good job of it, if I may be so bold.”
“If only you’d follow in other ways…”
I deserve everything he’s throwing at me. I’m the one who brought us to this point. It’s my price to pay.
“Pardon?” I say innocuously.
“You’re mother’s getting ready for brunch right now, thinking that girl you got up there is someone special.”
“First, her name is Arinessa. Second, she is indeed special.”
“If she’s so special, why have you been at work all night?”
Be calm. You can do this.
“Father, I need to talk to you about something.”
You’re such an asshole.
“Which account has you worried?” Father says sarcastically.
I pull out a chair he has reserved for guests and take a seat.
“How did you know mother was the one for you?”
Father blinks back at me, mouth slightly ajar.
You fucker.
“How’d I know your mother was the one?” he repeats back as though in a daze. “I guess it was her looks that caught my attention. Then I found out she was the smartest person in every room.”
I chuckle. “Bold statement coming from a man who owns one of the world’s largest tech corporations.”
“And one-hundred-percent true.”
I swallow hard, unsure of how to lead into the question I so desperately need answered. The subject is so difficult to navigate. My mother didn’t just lose her sister when Lucy went missing; my father lost a friend, and a big part of my mother.
Bingo!
“I’m sorry for what you’ve lost.”
He looks up uneasily at me. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that Mother was young and vibrant, and that was taken from you the moment Aunt Lucy went missing. I often imagine what Ma would have been like had that not happened. The movies she would have made. The adventures we would have had.”
Father exhales a long breath. “Don’t be sorry for me. If anything, I love her even more now than I did then. When you go through something traumatic with someone, it binds you.”
“But you also lost a friend,” I reply back. “You and Aunt Lucy were close.”
A long moment passes before Father responds with, “Yeah, I lost a friend.”
“What was your friendship like? I know how she hurt you and Mom, but I can’t help but feel thankful to her for introducing you both.”
“Lucy came on as a junior intern at eighteen through a program for people that test high, but I didn’t really meet her until she was assigned to my department. She was so fucking smart, and boy did it annoy the others on the team. I wouldn’t let them give her hell, though. I simply promoted her above them.”
“Funny how Mother looked exactly like Aunt Lucy, but Mother was the one who took your breath away.”
Father’s brow raises in surprise, as though startled. “Oh, it wasn’t her looks as much as it was her vibe. Seeing her onscreen was…breathtaking.”
“Watching her in her old films is like watching a different person from Mom,” I say. “She was always plucky and full of energy. Now, she’s soft-spoken and slow to emote. A completely different woman.”
“Ernestine loved acting. I never wanted to take her away from it. She was signed on for two other movies, but when your aunt disappeared…”
“It must have been hard.”
He nods stoically.
“It didn’t seem like Mother and Aunt Lucy were very close in the end,” I say carefully, hoping I don’t sound too ambitious, “with Lucy deciding to work from home.”
His jaw shifts and I now know something I did not before: my father is hiding something.
It’s funny how I never thought to question him on it, not until Ari brought up things that were blatantly obvious. Things you wouldn’t think twice about unless you looked from the outside in.
“It was for the best. Ernestine and I were starting our lives together, and we needed to focus on our growing family.” Father’s brow draws inward. “God, how did we get so sidetracked?”
“I guess I was just curious how you adapted to all the changes that took place in Mother after Lucy disappeared.”
Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking says it.
“Because I guess a small part of me worries that somehow time will change Arinessa, and no matter how strongly I feel for her now, it could all change if—”
“You can’t live your life like that, son,” Father cuts in. “If you love Ari, you need to tell her. Time slips away. You always think there will be more of it, but every second is so fucking precious, and you don’t realize it until it’s too late.”
The passion storming in my father’s eyes disarms me. I’m no longer an investigator. I’m a pupil.
“I barely know her,” I say without thinking. “I mean, everything is happening so quickly.”
“Hunter, you’re twenty-seven-years-old, and Arinessa is the first woman you’ve ever brought to meet us. You’re not some young, rash kid—you’re an adult. There is absolutely something about this woman that makes her special to you.”
“She’s not rich or from some legacy line. She’s not even middle class.”
“Luckily, with our coffers, we don’t have to worry about that.”
“That doesn’t bother you at all?”
“Maybe it would have ten years ago, but the only thing I really care about right now is that you and Ernestine are happy. I love you both with every ounce of my nerd soul.”
Despite how unsure I am about everything, I manage a chuckle. I really am lucky to have been born to such loving parents.
“Anything else?” he asks.
There is so much more I want to ask, but the last thing I want to do is turn into a babbling mess.
It’s funny how I came to my father’s office with every intention of plying information from him, and instead, I’m discussing Arinessa, a woman I met seventy-two hours ago when I sent hired muscle to kidnap her.
“To be honest, I don’t think Ari feels for me the way I feel for her.”
“Well, I can’t imagine she’d be up there right now if she didn’t like you.”
“It was supposed to be about a job,” I say honestly. “I was considering hiring her for a position. She’s quite talented, and you know how competitive it can be to land someone with her skill set. Then, I don’t know…she kind of overwhelmed me in a way I didn’t expect.”
“Sounds like what your mother did to me.”
“But I don’t think Ari will ever really go for me. Not seriously.”
“Why not? You got my good looks,” he says jokingly. We both know full well I got my looks from my mother.
Thankfully.
“She doesn’t trust men. And…I don’t think she was prepared for dating a Davies. She didn’t fully realize who I was until I brought her here. It’s a lot for her to take in.”
“Most women would climb on the backs of friends and enemies alike to get in the vicinity of a Davies.”
“Not Arinessa.”
“Hopefully, your mother will make her feel welcome. I have a feeling they’ll speak the same language.”
I burst into laughter. “I don’t know about that. Arinessa is an introverted computer wiz, and Ma is, or was, a Hollywood socialite. If you ask me, she’d be a lot more comfortable with Aunt Lucy.”
Father sighs, his shoulders slumping. It’s obvious he hasn’t gotten over the loss of his friend after all these years, or maybe he just hasn’t gotten over the betrayal.
And once again, I wonder what he’s hiding.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say as I get up from my seat.
“Don’t mention it.”
His phone vibrates, and he picks it up, grinning. “Your mother is excited to take Arinessa out to brunch. She’s on her way now.”
“Arinessa is scared out of her mind.”
“She shouldn’t be. Ernestine is relieved you picked someone smart, with a good head on her shoulders. She reminds your mother a lot of your Aunt Lucy, ya know. Intelligent, computer-oriented, reticent.”
“She got all of that out of one dinner?” I ask with a cocked brow.
“Your mother could. She and Lucy were twins, as close as you could ever be to another person—”
“Until Lucy moved out.”
Father glowers, and I know I’ve struck a chord. “Enough about your aunt.”
“Thanks for the talk,” I say in earnest. “You really helped straighten some things out for me.”
Father’s face softens a tad. “Sometimes, you just gotta take that leap.”
Arinessa
After Neon reluctantly helped me into my dress, she tied a dark grey sash around my waist to highlight the hourglass figure I never realized I had, and now I’m being escorted to a small café down the street by a guy that’s a part of the Davies’ security team.
He tried to get me into a limo, but after being cooped up in the Davies estate for days, I decided I needed to walk a bit.
Heads snap in my direction, craning to get a look at me. At first, I assume they’re staring at my security detail, but when I look back over my shoulder, I see that he’s keeping a careful distance, scanning the clusters of people as they approach and pass.
Which means they’re looking at me.
Why, oh, why didn’t I accept the ride?
Keep your head up. Don’t make this awkward. Fuck—it’s already awkward.
