Page 55 of Hacking His Code

I burst into laughter. “I don’t know about that. Arinessa is an introverted computer wiz, and Ma is, or was, a Hollywood socialite. If you ask me, she’d be a lot more comfortable with Aunt Lucy.”

Father sighs, his shoulders slumping. It’s obvious he hasn’t gotten over the loss of his friend after all these years, or maybe he just hasn’t gotten over the betrayal.

And once again, I wonder what he’s hiding.

“Thanks, Dad,” I say as I get up from my seat.

“Don’t mention it.”

His phone vibrates, and he picks it up, grinning. “Your mother is excited to take Arinessa out to brunch. She’s on her way now.”

“Arinessa is scared out of her mind.”

“She shouldn’t be. Ernestine is relieved you picked someone smart, with a good head on her shoulders. She reminds your mother a lot of your Aunt Lucy, ya know. Intelligent, computer-oriented, reticent.”

“She got all of that out of one dinner?” I ask with a cocked brow.

“Your mother could. She and Lucy were twins, as close as you could ever be to another person—”

“Until Lucy moved out.”

Father glowers, and I know I’ve struck a chord. “Enough about your aunt.”

“Thanks for the talk,” I say in earnest. “You really helped straighten some things out for me.”

Father’s face softens a tad. “Sometimes, you just gotta take that leap.”

Arinessa

After Neonreluctantly helped me into my dress, she tied a dark grey sash around my waist to highlight the hourglass figure I never realized I had, and now I’m being escorted to a small café down the street by a guy that’s a part of the Davies’ security team.

He tried to get me into a limo, but after being cooped up in the Davies estate for days, I decided I needed to walk a bit.

Heads snap in my direction, craning to get a look at me. At first, I assume they’re staring at my security detail, but when I look back over my shoulder, I see that he’s keeping a careful distance, scanning the clusters of people as they approach and pass.

Which means they’re looking at me.

Why, oh, why didn’t I accept the ride?

Keep your head up. Don’t make this awkward. Fuck—it’s already awkward.

After getting my ass handed to me as a teenager by the FBI, CIA, and all the hard-ass initials, I’ve avoided drawing attention to myself. People hear the word hacker, and they assume I’ve stolen someone’s identity and went to town with their credit cards, when really the extent of my illegal activities was hunting human traffickers.

I quicken my pace, relieved when I finally arrive at The Cultured Crêpe. Ernestine, who is seated at a table on the sidewalk, rises to embrace me.

She’s a woman that could make overalls look elegant, though today she’s chosen a cream-colored pantsuit that fits loosely yet somehow manages to show off her exquisite figure. Everything she does looks graceful and effortless, from the way she slides out of her chair to how she tucks a stray curl behind her ear. Even in the fancy dress Hunter bought me, I look like a pauper next to her.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” she enthuses, her light, floral scent wafting to my nose.

I hug her stiffly, trying my best to return the warmth but failing entirely.

“I hope you don’t mind that I grabbed a table outside. The weather is beautiful today.”

I force a smile. “Not at all.”

My security detail joins hers at a neighboring table, and we seat ourselves across from one another. People passing give us casual glances, but no one seems to recognize Ernestine.

“I’ve gone ahead and ordered you a morning mimosa.” She gestures to two cocktails on the table. “Tell me, how has your stay with Hunter been?”