Page 8 of Ruin Me With Lies
Raya
LUCA IS OUT COLDbeside me, snoring lightly.
He should be watching me.They just handed me total access to their security system, every inch of this place, inside and out.I could do a lot with this.Edit feeds.Manipulate data.Create absolute chaos and confusion.
Weak spots are already jumping out at me.
Taking advantage of his nonexistent supervision, I test my reach, using this access to hack into their other systems—security feeds for their nightclubs, their bogus zoo property on the outskirts, Mirabella Villa, the Summerlin mansion, and a handful of other locations.It’s not everything, but a lot.
After poking around for a bit, I leave myself an untraceable footprint and throw the walls back up.
Just in time…
The door swings open, and Lorenzo strides in.With a disapproving grunt, he raps his knuckles against Luca’s forehead.
Luca jerks awake.“What—”
“If you quit moonlighting at the strip club when you’re supposed to be resting, you wouldn’t be so damn tired all the time.”
Luca drags a hand down his face.“Shit.”
Lorenzo’s gaze drops to the half-empty cashew packet in my lap.“I assume you’re done?”
I nod.
“Use your words.”
“I’m done.”
He adjusts his holster and sits beside me, taking the laptop from my lap.
Sandwiched between two large, muscled men, I feel small.Lorenzo isunnecessarilyclose.Close enough that I almost inch away.
Almost.
Because, damn, he smells good.
While he verifies my work, Luca pushes up from the couch—thankfully—stretching lazily before ambling to the glass wall overlooking the casino.
Satisfied, Lorenzo hands the laptop back.Then he drapes an arm across the back of the couch behind me, leaning in even closer.“Good job.”
He carries a rich, cinnamon-spiced scent.No doubt from his illegal cigar.
While I try not to breathe too loudly with him this close—and smelling this damn good—his voice drops, low and husky, as he proceeds to ask a slew of questions about access admins and activity logs.After which, he has me block all but two admins.
“Want me to add extra security?”I suggest.
“Do it.”
When it’s all done, he pushes up from the couch and strides to his desk, settling on the edge with his arms crossed.Attention intense on me.“Age?”
Twenty-five.“Twenty-three.”
“Name?”
“Raya Michel.”
“From?”
