Chapter Seven
Meg looks so beautiful when she sleeps.
When her guard is down and her mind has switched off.
I shouldn’t be watching, but that ship sank when I programmed the camera on her computer to activate when it sensed any movement in the room and feed it directly to me.
I could pretend I wasn’t going to set up the programming for that anyway, but after the heart attack she gave me earlier today, I now consider it a necessity.
I was watching her match as much as I could, scrolling through the live feed of multiple spectators. They were trashing Meg to try and gain more followers, whilst I was creeping in the background to have a multi-view of Everest cheating his way through the most biased try-out I’ve ever seen.
Every time he barged into her or cheated, my blood boiled hotter in my veins.
I was about to sink his trust fund into an off-shore account he would never be able to find when the first plume of smoke skated through the background.
Ironically, I reckon I saw it before anyone else.
Seconds later, an alarm was blaring and I lost all visuals on her.
Instead, I was left with jerky footage of running feet and embellished screams blaring through my headphones.
There’s only so much frantic hacking a guy can do before his heart gives out, trying to stop my fingers from shaking whilst hopping from social media feeds to surveillance cameras.
All of the ones inside the stadium were hindered by the smoke, so I was left staring at the entrance from across the street.
I’ve never felt so helpless, even as I digitally logged the blaze with the fire department and ordered an immediate dispatch.
At least she’s back home and cuddled up safe now.
Safe under my watch. Meg mutters in her sleep and rolls over, causing the towel to unravel a little more.
I swallow hard, reaching for a sticker to place over her now-exposed nipple like the gentleman I am.
I may be watching her without her permission, for safety reasons, but I’m not a pervert.
When Meg reveals her body to me, it’ll be because she’s begging me to touch her. To kiss and lick and suck and enter her. Annnnd my hand is back on my cock. Fuck, I am a pervert.
I wake some hours later, still in my leather swivel chair, my dick limply hanging out of my boxers.
Poor dude took quite the beating. That’s what happens when Meg puts me through the height of stress, and then tells me she risked her life so she could text me.
I challenge any man to be told something like that and not need to blow his load into a sorry-looking sock.
The woman in question is awake and fully dressed, not that I watched.
She’s moved the computer to the corner, which actually gives me a perfect view of the door as well now.
Sitting at her new desk, she continues to fill out her planner for the week, completely oblivious to my presence.
She’s using the highlighters and stickers I sent, which I plucked from her private online wish list. Creepy, maybe. Endearing, hell yes.
Meg’s blue eyes flick to the computer to reflect her digital timetable, and then back down to the planner again.
Every time she looks up, a jolt goes through me as if she’s looking directly at me.
My chest is bare, my dick now tucked away, and I’m sipping a latte from the coffee machine right beside my dresser.
Some people rely on luck for happiness, and some of us craft it for ourselves.
Meg picks up her phone, and mine buzzes a moment later. I’m smiling before I even look at it.
Meg: Pretty sure I died in my sleep, and I’m not even mad about it. That mattress is a slice of heaven.
My grin bites into the sides of my cheeks. I wish I could say the mattress choice was purely selfless and that I don’t have intentions of sharing it with her one day, but it’s far too early to be lying to myself.
Thi: You’re welcome, Amorzinha.
Meg huffs a small laugh and goes back to her planner, sipping from her Stanley cup once in a while.
The feed is on mute, not that I need sound to know what she’s thinking.
She chews on her pen when she’s overanalyzing.
She taps it on her cheek when she’s trying to distract herself.
Every so often, her hand drifts towards her phone, her fingers twitching like she wants to message me again but won’t let herself.
I shouldn’t be such a smug son of a bitch, but it’s damn hard when watching her get all indecisive over little old me. Enjoy your wavering, meu amor. It won’t be long before my intentions are clear. Just a little bit longer until you’re settled and ready to hear what I have to say.
Whilst my mind runs away from me, a message labeled ‘Duty Calls’ pops up on the screen. I groan, kicking my ankles off the desk and placing down my coffee. Why does the real world always have to intrude on good times?
Leaving Meg’s window active in the corner, I open the encrypted server and unlock the job’s details.
It’s a standard hack with a decent pay off, and should only take the morning.
There are many other things I’d prefer to do whilst watching Meg for the next few hours, but to be honest, my dick could use a break and my bank account could do with a sizable donation.
Sitting up straighter, I crack my knuckles over the green-lit keyboard and enter my secondary credentials. The screen flickers, automatically shifting into dark mode and the job loads. Let’s see what’s on the agenda for today.
Verentas Pharmaceuticals. Extract the proprietary research logs from the internal network and reroute development delays to the investor board.
Someone is being rather naughty, hoping to either steal, sabotage or conceal whatever experimental treatments they’re working on.
It doesn’t matter, I’m just the performing monkey who wants to get paid.
I launch the necessary programs, a spoofed IP address and an anonymized Linux shell I built from the ground up. Initiating a ghost crawl, I run a quiet scan of Verentas’ external-facing servers. Their firewalls are so basic, it’s laughable.
I start off by writing a custom script to mimic a regular network check-in with one hand, the other used to lift my latte to my lips in between.
All the while, I’m checking in on Meg. She stands at one point to stretch, her work-out leggings hinting at her lean silhouette beneath an oversized college sweater.
Rolling her neck, she swings her arms out wide and back in to hug herself, then bends in half. I almost drop my coffee cup.
Focus. I need to focus. A distracted hacker leaves tracks.
Slipping past Verentas’ defense protocol, I locate the development logs, find the directory tree and pull files into a remote folder.
While the files download, I forge a memo to the board stating their newest trial failed safety testing and will need six more months of clinical approval.
It’ll cause stock to dip and a significant delay, exactly as my client wants.
I glance back at the corner feed. Meg’s preparing to head out, throwing her hair into a high ponytail and applying a lick of mascara to her lashes.
She glances at herself in the mirror, a frown pinching at her brows, before donning her backpack and leaving.
I watch the door click closed, the handle lifting for her to lock it, and the urge to follow her route slithers through me.
Somehow, my conscience wins out and reminds me she’s trying to find herself again. Do. Not. Suffocate the poor girl.
The job screen will run on its own like clockwork now, allowing me to minimize the screen and do something else.
The sun spills through a break in the curtains, hinting that I should maybe venture outside.
Go for a jog, see some real people, get some more coffee pods.
But that’s what treadmills and home deliveries are for, and people generally suck.
I rarely venture out if I can help it. I’m protected in the world I’ve created in my late mother’s house.
Most doors down the hall are closed, since I only use my room, the bathroom and the kitchen.
Maria, the cleaner, comes in a few times a week to keep the dust from settling and launder my clothes (don’t judge me, you’re sitting around reading when you know there are chores you should be doing).
I’m wasted here, I know that, but I’m also a creature of habit.
Instead, I open the video game I’ve brought Meg into, intent on loading up on supplies that I can gift to her later.
Even in the virtual world, I’ve undertaken the task of protecting her.
My character runs around the screen, adding extra layers of security to her base.
What started as just a tent in the woods is now surrounded by an iron wall and several guard wolves.
My phone rings a few times, and each time I jolt forward to see who it is.
Mostly withheld or unknown numbers, and I ignore each one.
Solely focused on the controller in my hand, I almost ignore the next call altogether until my cousin’s name catches my eye.
I look at it, then back at the computer screen and back again. Damn it, family always comes first.
“Hey cuz,” I project a much more joyous tone than I’m feeling. All my head and heart want to do is get back to my game, so I sandwich the phone between my ear and my shoulder and do just that.
“What are you up to, Thi?” My cousin, Dax, asks. I frown slightly but continue to keep up the pretense.
“No idea what you mean. I’m just over here living my life. How’s your apprenticeship going?”
“Don’t deflect.” Dax cuts in. “Rosa says she hasn’t seen you leave the house in weeks.”