My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend
Chapter 18

Dimitri

Was taking our minds off taking down Alek really the best idea?

No. I should have had more strength to restrain myself than I did. But I can’t help it.

I wanted her so bad, and she just wanted to walk away from me in an act of avoidance. Maybe it’s my need to desperately please this woman, or to show her that I’m not going anywhere by demanding she stay put when the tide is high, but I acted on filthy impulse.

And I’m damn proud of it.

She’s sleeping soundly in my bed now, moved to a room closest to the office where our clothes are still ripped apart in a mess on the floor. It’s impossible to track how we got to the bedroom, and how long our fun lasted in this room before both of us collapsed in exhaustion.

I’m still tired, my thighs on fire as if I’ve just done twenty sets of squats with some moderate weights, but instead, I was brutally quick and undeniably rough with this woman tonight. She needed it as much as I did, the frustrations oozing out of us in the form of s****l tensions.

It was worth every minute, but we have to get back to work now. My head is still spinning when I stand in the doorway of the office, naked and tired. I’m hungry, and the thought to order food does cross my mind, but it’s short-lived.

A harsh knock at my front door is followed by the chimes of the doorbell. Begrudgingly, I trudge through the house towards the front door where I fail to realize I haven’t put on a lick of clothes. I take a throw blanket and tie it around my abdomen, wearing a makeshift cover when I peer through the peephole of my Medina home.

I bought this property at a high-ticket price because of the waterway views and the long, grassy knoll of a yard. Plus, the crime rate in this area is stifled by the security gates, the guards, and running cameras that keep everyone out of this neighborhood who would want to do it harm.

So, opening the door to a handful of police officers is a bit of a shock to my system.

“Hello, sir. Are you Dimitri Wilde?”

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 read FBI 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 c**k, drilling out o****m after o****m 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 l*p 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 replace 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.

“Well, for starters, we’re going to confiscate your phones, and your equipment pertaining to the software developed by Ivica Tech.”

Izzy gasps, folding her arms in front of her while pressing her face into the hole she’s made. I hate to see her so upset, my stomach in knots as she begins to weep in solace. Uncaring of this agent’s request, I get up from my seat and bump his shoulder as I move around him, coming to her side where I kneel. I brush her back with my hand, stroking her spine smoothly.

Agent Mccoy hardly seems concerned with her quiet outburst of emotion. “Listen, we are running short on time, and we have to make this quick.”

“Then arrest us already,” I bite, aggravated. “We have done nothing wrong.”

“I know that. We all know that. We’re not here to arrest you technically, but we need your help.”

Both Izzy and I perk up with his claim.

“Wait, what?” she huffs in a weepy exhale. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this is a cover-up to our real concern. We aren’t really here to arrest you. We need to make it seem like you’re both under arrest so that when we take you to our base, you both can give us all the evidence we need to charge Alek Ivica.”

I stand slowly, my hands on Izzy’s shoulders as I do so. She wipes her face dry while I purposefully pull the agent aside, needing to let her calm down before we talk about this more. But I can’t let this get to her too much. She’s already so standoffish from confrontation, and me.

She needs a break.

In the back hallway behind my kitchen, I eye this agent Mccoy with a look of bewilderment. “What’s going on, really?”

“We got a tip from Alek that you’ve been hacking his software. It was cybercrime, so the FBI came to me. He didn’t know that there’s already a case against him right now concerning his software. I talked to him briefly, got the gist of the issue, and I think we can help each other.”

“Help how? What do you want with Izzy?”

“We know her history this far,” he claims. “She took down his assessment test. There’s also proof that she’s managed to hack through the backdoor of Alek’s system. We know he’s doing illegal sales of personal information to the dark web, but without the proof…”

“You need her to prove it for you,” I sigh.

He nods in agreement. “That’s right. But, to keep up appearances, we have to federally arrest you both.”

I wipe a hand down my face, the thought of them putting handcuffs on her a little daunting to me. She’s already frazzled, and this isn’t going to help any, but it’s safer if Alek is starting to turn on her. But why? He just told her he wants to buy her flash drive and to have her modify it. So, what’s the issue now? Why has he suddenly turned on her in less than a day?

“Tell me something,” I say. “I have to know. Why did he call? What happened that made this transpire?”

He swallows slightly before pulling out his phone. After a quick moment of clicking around, he holds up the screen for me to see. It’s a crystal-clear, bird’s-eye view of us in her office, right before I took her into my arms and kissed her on the desk.

“Dammit,” I gripe. “He tried to get us to separate yesterday, to drive a wedge between us and he saw on the security cameras that it didn’t work. Figures. Well, what’s our next steps?”

He tucks his phone into his pocket. “We need to gather whatever materials you have so we can analyze it at the office. We’re going to need you and Ms. Bellerose to cooperate and in exchange, we will offer you immunity from tampering with illegal materials.”

I cringe at his words slightly, but I understand. “Alright, I get it. Let me take you to the office.”

We walk out into the main room, seeing everyone scatter through my home as if looking for a pound of illegal drugs or something. Meanwhile, I’m sore at the sight of Izzy’s seat being empty. I hurry to the office, seeing her in front of the screen with a handful of agents behind her, watching closely.

“This is the data we bought off the site before,” she says, her voice calm yet bold. “I’ve traced the coding shortcut through this file instead of the software itself, because of how complicated it is now that Alek has changed the structure.”

“So, this was able to read the code before?” an agent asks.

“It sought out the backdoor in no time,” she replies. “But he’s stocked it so full of false trap doors that there’s no way it would be able to run through these options without trouble. But, when we use the file of my information that we bought off of the search engine before, I’m able to navigate it just fine with my coding trick here.”

“Okay, we need to seize this material,” Agent Mccoy says at last, everyone jumping and spinning to face us in the doorway. “We will continue this operation under our jurisdiction, and we need to hurry up. The press will be here soon for their shot.”

Izzy’s gaze softens. “Their shot?”

“Yeah, I’ll explain it to you soon enough,” he tells her.

I wave Mccoy aside and pull Izzy out of her chair. Leading her to the back bedroom, I pull her body into a loose embrace. She relaxes against my chest, her hair in need of a brush and a shower, but I have a feeling we don’t have time for such niceties.

“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.