But I'm not looking to date Fiona O'Shea, I remind myself. We're just having a conversation. One tech expert to another.
“Tell me, Fiona,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Can you build a scalable microservices architecture that can handle millions of requests per second?”
“Are you serious?” Those pretty eyes light up with challenge. “I could build it with my eyes closed. Can you?”
I laugh. “I've been at this for twenty-five years; there's little I can’t do when you hand me a computer.”
“That's pretty arrogant of you.”
I smirk, “You think so?”
She nods, and for the next hour, we volley technical jargon back and forth until the people around us stop paying much attention. That’s when I realize what it is about her that pulls me in.
Fiona reminds me of Var, which is ridiculous. The way she reasons and how passionate she is. Perhaps I'm reaching. Var is a voice in my ear late at night, filtered through encryption, talking me through code problems and making me laugh when no one else can. This woman is flesh and blood and looking atme like I’m an idiot—which, to be fair, is exactly how I want her to see me.
The only other thing the two have in common is that they're women in tech. Fiona doesn't seem like the type who would dabble in hacking. From what I've heard, the O'Shea protection firm is above board. They rarely cross the line. I don't doubt they'd have someone on the inside doing their dirty work, but I doubt they'd risk their only daughter for it.
As the evening wears on and Fiona is pulled into another discussion by someone else, I find that I can't take my eyes off her. But this time, it has to do with more than just my attraction.
That familiar feeling I get when I’m talking to her makes me want to dig further until I know what it is.
I consider hacking into her phone. The very device she hasn't put down since she walked in, occasionally glancing at it and smiling. I push the thought back. I don't violate strangers' privacy without a reason. It's a promise I made myself years ago. I’ve done what was necessary to protect my family—even some things that are less than above board—but my principles rarely ever tip into the gray let alone the dark corners outside of that responsibility.
Being curious about Fiona O'Shea isn't reason enough to cross that line. I’ll just have to find another way.
Chapter Two
Fiona
He’s watching me.
I can feel his eyes on me like a physical touch, and I’m afraid to turn and look, but it’s hard when we’re both so close to each other. When I offered to help Elena clean up after the dinner party, I didn’t expect Lorenzo to volunteer as well, and now we’re alone. In the kitchen.
And his gaze… I'd like to pretend it doesn't affect me, but I would be lying to myself. It's intense and heavy, making my skin tingle.
Earlier, I sensed it the moment he stepped into the room, and when those eyes landed on me, it felt like a caress. It took everything in me not to turn around and glance at the man I have no business being attracted to.
I had every intention of ignoring Lorenzo Rossi, but Elena pushed us into each other's orbit.
Christ, I messed up. Entertaining him for as long as I did. I probably overshared too, but a part of me—that pathetic little part that only ever gets to interact with computers—wanted to boast a little about my skills to the man. A veteran in the field.
Oh, I looked into Lorenzo Rossi up after that party two weeks ago and quickly realized that I couldn’t hack into anything the man owned. I kept hitting a solid brick wall, and when I managed to break through the first, I nearly got my entire computer system corrupted by the sheer number of traps he had set. Serves me right for hacking into a stranger’s devices.
No, this man is not simply a freaking coder.
His skills go beyond that. All surface-level research led me to believe that Lorenzo was just a cybersecurity expert, which would make sense, seeing that he belongs to one of the most powerful crime families in one of the largest cities in the world. It makes sense that they would need expert-level security, but soon, I realized that Lorenzo Rossi is more than that. Heck, I didn’t think anyone could out-skill Raziel, but here we are.
But unlike Raziel, Lorenzo makes me nervous in a different way.
He’s a lot more intimidating than Raziel. In the way he speaks and acts and…looks. Still, there is something familiar about Lorenzo that puts me on edge, and my attraction is very inconvenient.
“Are you cold?”
My head whips up at Lorenzo’s voice, and I flush when I find those eyes on me. I quickly look away. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re shivering,” he says. “And there are goosebumps all over your arm.”
I glance down at the arm in question, and my flush deepens. The goosebumps have nothing to do with being cold, but admitting that out loud would be mortifying. “I guess I am a little cold,” I say, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. “But it’s fine. I’ll just finish up here and ask Elena for a sweater.”
