RAIN
Chapter eight
I’ve always been intrigued by computers; I started reading about them when I was five and fell down the rabbit hole. My parents brought me on vacation to London when I was twelve. They wanted me to see the city and learn its history.
While we were in Dad’s company office—which was The Weston, before his merger with Shane five years ago—I was on my laptop and got bored. I proceeded to bypass every honey pot they had and hack their servers, displaying a message on every computer and television screen that read, useless.
Given my impeccable intellect, I could have skipped most of my schooling, but my doctor fought my parents, urging I complete each grade to better develop my social skills.
My father certainly wasn’t thrilled at the idea—he wanted me in college by age thirteen—but my mother thought it best we follow the doctor’s recommendation.
Dad once argued with Mum that I was stripped of being the next ‘child protégé.’ Mum argued I should enjoy being young, and learn how to better socially interact, make friends, have fun.
To satiate my mother’s concerns about my lack of emotional intelligence, I read every book about making friends, social interactions, and emotions I could get my hands on. My newfound information was easily understood but harder to implement.
I have empathy, an abundance of it truthfully, and I absolutely feel remorse.
The doctors assured my parents some gifted children often lack the ability to recognise social cues, but I eventually learnt them. Throughout school, I became what my father always wanted: a bright and gifted child with an award-winning smile and the charm to match.
By senior year, I had one hundred percent on every test, and the principal had my media teacher become my advisor.
I was given access to grade certain tests and assignments—it would look good on a college application alongside my other extra-curricular activities, though I wasn’t planning on going.
I wanted Ezra Smith as my advisor because of his knowledge of a computer. I learnt a lot from Ezra Smith.
Despite my dislike for tertiary education, Dad forced me and Blade to complete our business degrees at a local university when we moved to London.
We would only step foot on campus for tests or exams; the rest we completed online.
While I was there, I crossed notes with other IT students, and the extra knowledge allowed me to do things like watch Rome through his laptop camera while he talks to Xander—which I’m currently doing as I send him another text.
Me: You can’t ignore me forever.
He purchased a new phone and demanded a new number, but that didn’t stop me from hacking their system to discover it.
He looks at his phone screen, his face paling as he tosses it aside.
Rude.
“Apparently, his dad just brought fifty-percent ownership of the team,” Rome sighs, continuing to research my family.
Fucking adorable.
“I asked Blade about Rain,” Xander says. “He said, ‘yeah, he’s my brother, so what?’ Then I told him about Rain breaking into your house, and Blade went quiet. Even looked a little pissed off.”
I glare at the screen when Xander’s hand hits Rome’s chest. I may be a little pissed off with myself right now, because I’ve been living in this country for almost five years, and Rome’s face has never crossed my path. Anything related to football skipped my vision. I was never interested before.
I jump when my bedroom door swings open, ricocheting off the wall. Blade strides in with a cigarette burning between his lips, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his laptop in the other. He sits on my bed, and I reach across, snatching the cigarette from his mouth to grind it out in my trashcan.
“Dick,” he mutters into his glass.
I’ve been aiming to quit the burdensome habit for three months now. Chewing gum has helped, but I refuse to allow myself to smoke around Rome. I don’t want it impacting his health.
I hiss at the burn of my whiskey and turn to Blade. “What have you been doing with Xander lately?”
“Worry about yourself.”
“He knows Rome.”
“That little boy toy you’ve become obsessed with?”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you know Rome?”
“I don’t. I know Xan. What do you think we do?
Sit around a fire, share gossip about our lives, and sing kumbaya?
He needs people killed and tortured for information.
Their methods truly were juvenile before I blessed them with my tactics.
” He removes his eyes from his screen to give me his full attention.
“I’ve never met Rome, but I already don’t like the fucker. ”
“Mmm. It’s easy for you to pass judgement, isn’t it?”
“Don’t come crying to me when you devote all your attention to him and he breaks your fragile little heart.”
“That’s why you’re pissed off? Because my attention is on him?”
Blade is a ruthless killer made of muscle and tattoos, but he does have a heart somewhere in there, and it only softens for Alexa Sterling and, at times, me.
He closes his laptop, throwing it beside him. “Come here. I need you.”
A dry laugh puffs from my lips. “We aren’t fucking anymore.”
If you didn’t know Blade, you wouldn’t notice the change. His body language doesn’t waver, but I feel his irate energy.
“I won’t ask again,” he says calmly.
“The only person I want touching me from now on is Rome.”
His lip twitches, eyes darkening. “I will erase your boy-toy if you keep telling me I can’t have you.”
I keep my eyes on his and throw back the last of my drink. “No, you won’t, because I’m telling you not to touch him.”
A menacing smile tugs at his lips. “You think you have any control over me?”
“I have more than you’ll ever admit.”
He chuckles and snatches his laptop. Standing, he bends over the back of my chair to whisper in my ear. “Better keep an eye on him, brother. I don’t like to share.”