I woke up early. Too early. The clock on the nightstand read six forty five, and the Seattle rain was still tapping against the windows like it had a grudge. My body felt heavy, sticky with the kind of ache that came from dreams that lingered too long. Dreams of the jet. Of Viktor's cock sliding past my lips, thick and insistent, his hand fisted in my hair as he thrust deeper. I could almost taste the salt of him again, feel the stretch in my throat when he hit the back.
Pathetic, Kai.
Woke up hard and desperate for what we did not finish, craving that hot spill down my throat the flight attendant stole from us. Am I too clingy already? Chasing his dick like some lovesick intern? C'mon, what is happening to you? You are not supposed to fall for CEOs like him. The ones who own boardrooms and break you with a glance. The ones who leave you gagging and grinning like an idiot. Laughable. Me, the hacker who cracked his server for fun, now cracking wide open for his cock instead. Fine. Focus on the job. Like he keeps saying. Like that is possible when my sheets twist around me like his arms would.
I rolled out of bed. Showered cold to kill the lingering heat. Dressed sharp. Tailored slacks that hugged my thighs just right. White shirt tucked crisp. A dark jacket to blend with the tech crowd. Ironic, dressing like his perfect shadow. I pulled up Viktor's speech on my laptop one last time. Ran through the edits I made last night. Sharpened the hooks. Cut the fluff. Made his words land like punches. Polishing his brilliance while my throat still remembers his thickness. Poetic. Or just sad.
Before leaving I checked the adjoining door. Turned the knob. Peeked through. His suite was empty. Bed made tight. No trace of him. No rumpled sheets or that woody cologne hanging in the air. Gone already? Or avoiding me after yesterday's almost on the bed? Great, now I am overthinking like a rejected hookup. Shake it off. The keycard better be waiting, or I am winging this like a bad spy movie. How the hell does he plan to get it? This feels too easy. Too personal. Like he has history there that goes beyond code and contracts.
I slipped out. Headed downstairs. The conference started in five minutes. The elevator ride felt endless. My pulse thrummed in my ears. No Viktor. No plan update. Just me and a ghost of a keycard that might or might not show.
The hall was already buzzing when I stepped in. Tech elite everywhere. AI CEOs in hoodies that cost more than my rent. Security execs in suits that screamed custom tailor. Panels setting up with glowing screens and coffee stations manned by baristas who looked like models. The air hummed with that fake energy of deals waiting to happen. I wove through the crowd. Found a seat at the far end, near the door. Low profile. Easy exit if things went south.
No keycard yet. No Viktor. I am supposed to wing a hotel break in? Jokes on me, the "genius" hacker reduced to waiting for his magic card like a kid on Christmas. Pathetic. La Casa de Papel this shit? Five guys and a drill? Nah, just me, my laptop, and a prayer against alarms and security cams. Heart pounding already. Where the hell is he?
Lights dimmed. The host took the stage. Tall guy in a slim suit, mic in hand like a weapon. "Welcome to the AI Security Summit. Trailblazers. Visionaries. The ones shaping tomorrow's defenses today."
Applause rippled. Polite. He ran through intros. Big names. Partnerships. The usual hype. Then the opening speech wrapped. Host leaned into the mic. "And now, to kick off our keynotes, please welcome the new force in the industry. Pioneering unbreakable AI shields. The CEO of AetherLynx."
"Ms. Irina Volkov."
The name hit like a glitch. My stomach dropped. And then she walked out.
Irina. The same Irina from the restaurant last night. Same sharp cheekbones. Same dark waves pinned elegant. But now in a tailored white suit that screamed power. Heels clicking the stage like gunshots. She took the podium smooth. Poised. Thanked the crowd with a voice that carried a faint lilt. Russian. Subtle. But there.
Shock slammed through me. I was too busy staring at Viktor’s pics during my research. Shirtless gym shots, that jaw cutting like glass. To notice her in the background, arm linked with his at some gala years back. Arm in arm. Smiling like they owned the world. Idiot. No wonder she seemed familiar last night. She is the CEO. The ex wife who broke his trust. Stole proprietary info. Built an empire on his back while the tabloids tore him apart. Everything pieces together now. The paranoia in his voice when he talked about the tablet. The precision on her habits. Like he had mapped her soul, not just her security. No wonder he is hell bent on this. It is not just code. It is revenge. Stealing her secrets to gut her from the inside.
Irina spoke confidently. On AI defenses that "adapt like a living thing." Her eyes swept the audience. Locked on mine for a beat. Curious. Like she recognized me from the restaurant. Or something more.
Then a presence settled beside me. Solid. Warm. Viktor slid into the seat. Dressed sharp for the event. Navy suit fitted perfect, open collar shirt teasing a sliver of chest. He did not look at me. Kept his eyes front.
"Morning, Lennox."
I leaned in. Whisper sharp. "Irina Volkov? Your ex wife is the CEO of AetherLynx?"
His hand dropped to my thigh under the table. Squeezed firm. Slid up slowly. Calming. Possessive. Thumb circling the inner seam. Heat flared where he touched. "Don't blow it. We don't want eyes on us."
I swallowed. His fingers pressed harder.
"So, this is why you are hell bent on destroying her.", I asked.
Viktor did not answer me right away, but he let his hand linger on my thigh, brushing the inner seam with a slow, deliberate stroke that sent sparks racing up my spine. He passed something small and discreet into my palm, the keycard cool against my skin, and his fingers grazed the edge of my zipper just long enough to make my breath hitch. That lingering touch sparked fire low in my gut, a reminder of how easily he could unravel me with nothing more than a promise unspoken.
"Thirty minutes," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Do the job."
I stood up carefully, mumbling something about needing the washroom to no one in particular, and slipped out through the side door. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to break free, and the keycard burned in my pocket the whole way. How did he get this? Through seduction, maybe, or some quiet blackmail that fit his world like a glove? Fuck, this went deeper than code and contracts. It felt like a full-blown war zone, and I was the weapon he was wielding blind, pointed straight at the heart of his past.
Irina's suite was on the top floor, just a quick elevator ride away from ours. The keycard beeped green when I swiped it, and I slipped inside as quietly as I could manage. My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my chest, echoing in the silence. The room smelled like her, a subtle perfume of jasmine laced with something sharper, almost like the edge in her voice from the stage. It hung in the air, familiar in a way that twisted my gut.
Her tablet sat right there on the desk, screen dark and waiting. I crossed the room in three quick strides, sat down, and powered it on. The password prompt blinked to life, cold and unyielding. Viktor had texted me the code earlier, simple numbers that carried too much weight: 0715. July fifteenth. Their anniversary, no doubt about it. Fuck. Tapping that in felt intimate, almost wrong, like I was cracking open a heart instead of a hard drive. The first try buzzed red, and an alarm flickered to life on the screen, a pulsing red light that made my breath catch in my throat. I had entered it wrong, my fingers slipping from the nerves. Footsteps echoed in the hall outside, or was that just my pulse roaring? No, the hall stayed empty, but the false scare left me sweating.
I tried again, steady this time. Green. We were in.
Files loaded up fast, core directories unfolding like secrets finally spilling free. Blueprints. Backdoors half hidden in the shadows of subfolders. I plugged in the drive and started the copy, watching the partial success roll in already, schematics pouring over in waves. Hints of full prototypes buried deep under layers of encryption. But she was no amateur. Irina Volkov. Ex-wife. Destroying her company like this? What did she do to make him this ruthless? Steal more than code? Trust? His whole damn world, maybe, leaving him with nothing but walls and vendettas.
The progress bar crawled along, inching to twenty percent. Sweat beaded on my neck, trickling down my back. The alarm tease hit hard then, the door handle rattling like someone had decided to test it. I froze solid, dove under the desk, and held my breath until my lungs burned. Housekeeping? A voice murmured outside, muffled through the wood. Gone. False alarm. The bar ticked to fifty percent, but my heart did not slow one bit.
Inner questions burned hotter than the risk. Irina Volkov. Ex-wife. That lobby smile twisted ugly in my head now, all confident poise hiding knives. She stole proprietary info, built AetherLynx brick by brick on his back while the tabloids painted him as the villain in their divorce circus. Framed him, maybe, to walk away clean. But her eyes on stage earlier. That glance locking on me like she knew something. Or suspected. Did she see the thief in the crowd?
Seventy percent. The drive whirred soft, pulling data like it was pulling teeth. I wiped sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. This was not just revenge. It was war, pure and ugly. And I was the thief in her room, stealing scraps of her empire for the man who broke her. Or did she break him first, leaving scars that never healed?
Ninety percent. Almost there. Hundred. Done. I unplugged the drive fast, powered the screen off, and slipped out. The hall stretched empty before me. Elevator down. I blended back into the crowd through the side door, heart still thundering. Sat next to Viktor just as Irina wrapped her speech. The crowd applauded, a wave of noise that swallowed me whole. She stepped off the stage, glancing our way with a frown that deepened into something like recognition.
Viktor did not move a muscle. He glanced at me sidelong, one brow arched in that nonverbal way of his. Job done?
I nodded subtly, leaning in just enough to whisper. "Handled."
Irina was done. The host called the next speaker without missing a beat. "Volkov Security's visionary. Mr. Viktor Volkov!"
Viktor stood up smoothly, buttoned his jacket with that effortless grace, and walked the stage like it had been waiting for him all morning. He took the mic, and his voice rolled out, that thick accent wrapping around every word like smoke. Confident. Unbreakable. On defenses that "adapt like a living thing, learning from every threat before it strikes."
I watched from the shadows at the edge of the crowd. His words landed sharp, every line I had edited last night cutting deeper now that I knew the truth behind them. Knowing it was all laced with revenge. Hotter somehow. His eyes swept the room, landing on Irina for just a beat. Steel meeting steel across the sea of seats.
Applause swelled as he wrapped, thunderous and genuine. He returned to the seat beside me, sitting close enough that his thigh pressed warm against mine. "Well done."
I leaned in, keeping my voice to a whisper. "Impressive. But her eyes are on you. Old wounds?"
Viktor went tense under my words. His hand found my knee again, squeezing once. "Not now, Kai."
The speech had slayed them all. But the twist gutted me from the inside. Ex-wife rival. Stolen empire. The job was a vendetta, plain and vicious, and I was collateral in it. Or maybe the prize he had not admitted yet. Fuck, with his hand still ghosting my thigh like a brand, I did not know if I wanted out of this mess. Or deeper in, tangled up until there was no separating the code from the chaos. Irina's shadow loomed larger now. What was her play? And why did stealing from her feel like stealing pieces of him too, the man I was starting to see cracks in?
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