Yet this man has layers upon layers of security.
I’m barely even in his system now, and I’ve already passed through nine different screens. There are more security hurdles to access his files. But I don’t need those right now. I just want to establish an internet connection.
Which isn’t nearly as easy as it should be.
“Wow,” I breathe, utterly enthralled by his programming. This isn’t a normal laptop. No standard software. No apps. He’s basically built this mainframe from scratch.
My thighs are slick with appreciation.
I love a man who knows how to program, and this is next-level amazing. Probably the most intricate work I’ve ever?—
“Lark.” Johan’s deep voice travels through the room, startling a yelp from me.
I was so engrossed in his data web that I didn’t even hear him enter.
Well, now that he’s here…“Your laptop is a work of art,” I inform him. “But I’m rewriting all your programming.”
That’s how I’ve decided to punish him for not responding to my messages.
And leaving me here for two damn days.
Which I almost comment on out loud, only he steps into view and I realize his black suit is soaking wet.
“Why are you…?” My eyes widen. “Oh my God, is thatblood?” I set the laptop to the side and roll off his giant mattress. “Are you okay?” I ask, rushing toward him, trying to figure out where he’s bleeding.
He looks down, frowning, then runs his fingers through his messy hair. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days. And the haunted look in his eyes makes me wonder what the hell happened.
“It’s not mine.” His words are quiet. “It’s…”
“Go shower,” Lazarus says from the doorway. “I’ll talk to Aurora.”
Johan glances at him and nods. “All right.” He starts toward the bathroom, his hands already unbuttoning the soiled dress shirt. “Don’t be an ass, Laz.” He sounds exhausted as he voices the comment, but his eyes resemble ice as he looks at the don. “Beyou.”
With that, he leaves the room, causing me to frown after him.
“If it’s not his blood…” I swallow and focus on Lazarus, taking in his pristine suit. “And it’s not yours…”
My heart starts to hammer in my ribs, my mind struggling to process what I fear might be true.
“Lazarus…” His name comes out like a warning. As though I’m trying to stop him from telling me something I don’t want to hear. All while begging him to help me understand at the same time.
A soft vibration flows through the air, his purr seeming to swathe me in a blanket of false comfort.
False because I know something is wrong.
False because I don’t trust him.
False because I’mscared.
“Everyone is okay,” he tells me. “Aurora.” He’s suddenly in front of me, his finger beneath my chin as he forces me to meet his gaze. “Everyone is alive.”
My throat works.
Because something about that feels wrong.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice a whisper. “Tell me where you’ve been.” On some deep level, I feel like it’s my right to make that demand of him.
He’s not mine.
