Chapter Seven
Lorenzo
Serena Beaumont.
The last name strikes a chord, one that’s too familiar to ignore. Thomas Beaumont, the Attorney General. And this girl? She’s his daughter.
She looks far too young to be working as a psychologist for the FBI. I knew her father would pull strings to get her a cushy position, but the fucking FBI? The man’s delusional. She’ll be eaten alive in this world.
These idiots are so proud of themselves, acting like they’ve pulled off some grand feat by catching me. They don’t even realize I’m here because I want to be here.
Amateurs.
Not that I planned to end up in this situation, but when you’re handed an opportunity, you take it. That’s rule number one.
Andres warned me the cops were on their way to my office. They wanted me on charges of money laundering and blackmailing. Almost laughable, almost. Sure, it wasn’t entirely false, but they didn’t have real proof. Nothing that would stick.
But instead of running, I saw an opening.
Andres handed me the device he’s been working on. A sleek, unassuming little thing he’s named Lucy. Don’t ask me why. Andres has his quirks, and I don’t care about his reasons.
All I care about is that Lucy will do exactly what I need her to do.
They think they’ve got me cornered. They think I’m some caged beast they’ve managed to tame.
But the truth?
The real game hasn’t even started yet.
Lucy’s role is simple but crucial: extract every piece of information from the feds’ systems, their computers, their CCTV cameras, their internal files. All I have to do is stay close enough for Andres to do his magic, and he’ll take control of everything they think is secure.
In a couple of weeks, thanks to Lucy, we’ll know exactly who’s behind this pathetic attempt to drag me to jail. Try is the right word, these assholes aren’t capable of actually keeping me here unless I let them.
I know there’s a massive target on my back. That’s the cost of running my business the way I do. But the truth? I don’t give a fuck.
My father, Giovanni Moretti, was a man of law. He ran his business cleanly, legally, by the book. He had principles, good ones, and people respected him for that. Hell, I respected him for that, too.
But principles didn’t save him.
After his death, I met Andres Rivera, and everything changed. Andres wasn’t just a tech genius, he was the genius, a hacker who could dismantle the digital world with a keystroke. We became unstoppable.
With Andres by my side, I built something my father could never have dreamed of. I started collecting files, dirty, depraved, incriminating files, on every powerful man I encountered. Politicians, CEOs, judges, mob bosses. Their secrets became my leverage, and their weaknesses became my weapons.
And unlike my father, I don’t give a shit about respect.
I don’t need their respect.
What I need is control.
I wasn’t expecting my future psychologist to look like that.
She looked far too young to be here, early 20s at best, with tanned legs and full lips that had me wondering how they’d taste. Her hair was long, soft-looking, the kind that would fit perfectly in my hand as I pushed her pretty little mouth to take all of me.
The thought stirred something in me, a distraction I didn’t need but couldn’t ignore.
This place is a bore, a cage designed to contain men like me, but seeing her was the most entertainment I’d had since I arrived. She wasn’t thrilled with my question earlier, but watching her blush was worth it. The red that crept across her cheeks was more telling than anything she said.
But then she answered, and her words hit me harder than I’d expected.
Not being her type?
Bullshit.
Her response was frustrating, sure, but it was the kind of frustration that sent blood rushing south. The way her voice wavered, the way her lips parted slightly when she spoke, it made me hard, plain and simple.
And the arrogance of her answer? It wasn’t going to slide.
She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. Doesn’t realize what she did when she tried to provoke me.
It was funny, really. She thinks she’s in control, that her words mean something.
I’ll make her swallow them soon enough, among other things.
I could see that idiot Ian hovering over her, all protective like a fucking guard dog. Pathetic.
I bet he’s been begging for a taste of her, and she’s kept him on a tight leash. The poor bastard probably thinks being her lapdog will get him somewhere.
That’s what’s going to make it so damn satisfying when I fuck his precious little crush.
Even better? Watching Thomas’ face when he finds out I’ve had his perfect daughter in every way imaginable. That old bastard never liked my father, made that obvious every chance he got, but my father was always diplomatic, always played it cool around him.
I wonder why.
I was too young back then to notice the details, but something about the way they interacted always felt... strained. Could’ve been nothing. Or it could’ve been everything.
But I don’t leave loose ends.
I need to know what happened between them. If there’s anything buried in the past, I’ll find it. And I’ll use it.
I’m a control freak. I don’t just want the whole picture, I need it.
And that means it’s time to start building a file on Thomas Beaumont. In case I need leverage.
“Mr. Moretti, please get inside your room,” a guard says, his voice nervous, his eyes flicking away like he doesn’t want to meet mine.
They’re all the same, timid little sheep trying to corral a wolf.
I’ve been here for one week now because fucking Lucy is slower than I’d like, and boredom is eating away at me. I’ve started picking fights with the guards, mostly to keep myself entertained and to see if I’m still in shape. Spoiler: I am. These motherfuckers avoid me like I’m a ticking time bomb.
I walk into my room, which they’ve been kind enough to make more like a studio than a prison cell.
Bedroom, bathroom, and even a small kitchen.
They can’t lock me up like the rest of the animals here, my lawyer won’t allow it, and they know it.
They have no real proof, just accusations they can’t back up.
It’s all temporary.
I lie down in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days, but I try.
That’s when my mind betrays me.
The image of her creeps in, petite, blonde, curves that make a man think about sinning, and that fucking smart mouth.
A grin spreads across my face, unbidden, and I let out a low chuckle.
“We’re going to have so much fun together, beautiful,” I murmur into the dark, laughing softly to myself as my eyes close.