Page 15 of Hacked For Love
“I want you,” he says, and the three words ring right through me, sending a jolt down to the pit of mystomach.
What?
He goes on in an amused tone. “I do a lot of my own charity work—quietly, so I’m not constantly being hit up for donations. I wouldn’t condone breaking into people’s bank accounts so that you can settle their financial affairs for them, but I have to admit, I’m impressed with your work thusfar.”
Impressed?I’m still wary. I’m not used to being flattered, and my cheeks are prickling again. “Why?”
“You’re organized and thorough. Maybe not thorough enough, or else we wouldn’t be here, but I suspect that that’s a direct result of constantly biting off more than you can chew.” He holds up the sheaf of printouts. “Your plan is ambitious, but I doubt you can accomplish it all alone in anything like a timelymanner.”
I hitch in a breath. “I’m prepared to put in as long as ittakes.”
“Yes, and I’m sure you’re quick as well as thorough. However, even if you spend as little as twenty minutes on each family or individual, you can’t clear more than a dozen or so people an hour. That’s a hundred and twenty people in a ten-hour shift. How many people are on yourlist?”
Trust him. For now.“Twentythousand.”
He lets out a low whistle. “That will take you one hundred and sixty-seven days to complete, if you work every day. You say that these people need helpnow. I would like to make you adeal.”
“What deal?” I don’t know if my alarms are ringing more because he’s expecting so much trust from me, or because I suddenly want to give it so verybadly.
I’ve ached for someone out there, a man especially, to understand me—trulyunderstand me, the way Spider and the boys did before the cops scattered my makeshift hacker family to the winds. I’ve dreamed about it for a long time. I’ve just never gone after it, because what do I even know anymore about any kind of real interactions outside ofcyberspace?
But suddenly, here is this stunningly gorgeous man that I shouldn’t trust at all, yet who seems to understand me somuch.
The hostess comes up to check on us, and Drake looks up at her. “Menus in five minutes,” he instructs, and she nods andwithdraws.
He turns back to me. “I enjoy personally intervening in the lives of needy people, in a way similar to your own, which is why I’ve been quietly sponsoring people on donation sites for years. But as satisfying as it is, I face a similar dilemma to your own. There isn’t enough time in the day to help all the people that I’d liketo.”
My eyebrows rise. “So…what? We work together to get thisdone?”
“Yes.” He leans toward me across the table, his eyes gleaming. “I want in on what you’re doing. I want to participate. A third of this is coming from my money, after all, and if you agree to my deal, it will be my money exclusively that you’ll be distributing from nowon.”
I’m staring at him again. I blink and look away. “I’m notfollowing.”
“Once things are settled here, and this…incident…is behind us, I want you to work for me on an exclusive contract of at least three years. I’ll give you a budget, a space, and a team to work under you. We’ll get your twenty thousand what they need, and then help an additional ten thousand people ayear.”
He can’t beserious!
But…what if he is? I take a shivery breath and look down. “Can I think aboutthis?”
“Of course. However, the offer will be off the table in forty-eight hours.” His voice is warm and firm, and for a moment, caught in my storm of emotions, my eyes fix on the curve of his lips as hespeaks.
I catch myself wondering what they would feel like on my skin, and gasp slightly, looking away. “Ofcourse.”
We both order steak and dark beer and talk more lightly around bites of our meal. “So, why green?” he asks me. “It’s eye-catching and well-kept, but it’s not exactlyinconspicuous.”
I wince slightly, but he’s smiling kindly at me with no judgment in his eyes. My stomach tightens...and then I relax my guard a bit more. “My natural hair color is too close to my uncle’s,” I say simply. “And I wanted to make astatement.”
“What sort of statement?” His eyes narrow with amusement, that teasing smile making me squeeze my knees together under the table. “You look like a punk. A sexy, well-dressedpunk.”
“I am a punk,” I reply with a touch of defiance. “I’m a cyberpunk. But it doesn’t mean I can’t have taste.” I toss my head defiantly—and then notice something that makes my heart beat evenfaster.
His eyes follow the sweep of my hair as it bounces across my shoulders and then settles down again, and I see a gleam enter them like a tiny ember. “And you do,” he murmurs, voice lowering to a purr. “Beauty, aswell.”
I look away, cheeks burning again, and feel panic well up inside me.He has me wrapped around his finger. Yesterday, he was a target. Now he’s talking like he wants to hire me—or fuck me. Maybeboth.
Having a man call me beautiful and sexy is nothing new. It happens any time I run into guys in bars, clubs, or in the street—guys who are looking for Miss Right Now and don’t feel like paying a price other than a cheap compliment. But this…this is different. I feel it down to mytoes.
Maybe his idea of revenge is to seduce me with promises of money, sex, and affection, only to drop me on my ass like my uncle once did. Drake is observant enough to know how much that wouldhurt.
