My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 261

Chapter 261

The word ‘like’ had barely left my lips when the air in the elevator snapped.

Raphael moved so fast I didn’t even see it coming. One second he was a statue, and the next, he was a storm. His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around the front of my neck. He shoved me backward, my spine hitting the elevator door with a thud that vibrated through my teeth.

Before I could even gasp, he leaned in, his body slamming against mine, pinning me to the cold steel. He didn say a word. He just crashed his lips onto mine.

My brain went completely blank, the logic of the office and my classes and my debt all vanishing in a puff of smoke.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t even think about it. My hands flew up, my fingers tangling deep into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between us. I kissed him back just as hard. The world was spinning, and the only thing that felt real was the heat of his skin and the way he was breathing into my mouth.

I felt his grip on my neck tighten slightly, his thumb grazing my jawline, and then….

Ding.

Raphael ripped himself away from me instantly. It was so sudden I almost fell forward, my legs feeling like they were made of water. He stepped back, his chest heaving, his face turning back into that terrifying mask of stone He didn’t look at me.

The doors slid open, he straightened his suit jacket and walked out. I stood there, my hand went up to my neck, feeling the ghost of his touch.

I forced my legs to move, stumbling out of the elevator. I expected a dusty storage room or a cold parking garage, but as I rounded the corner, the darkness died.

A massive, subterranean cavern opened up before me, and for a second, I forgot to breathe.

It looked like something stolen from a high-budget spy movie. The walls were lined with glowing blue LED strips that cut through the dim, industrial lighting. In the center of the room, dozens of sleek, glass desks were arranged in a circle, and behind them sat nearly fifty people. The only sound was the rapid-fire clicking of mechanical keyboards and the low hum of cooling fans.

Huge holographic displays floated in the air, showing live feeds of the Chicago docks, heat maps of police patrols, and scrolling walls of green code that looked like the back end of a bank’s server.

I saw the FBI seal on one screen, flicking rapidly as someone, a kid who looked barely older than me bypassed a firewall in real-time.

Raphael was already in the center of it all. He stood over a glowing table that projected a 3D map of the city. Red dots moved across the streets, delivery trucks, probably, carrying things that definitely weren’t legal.

“I want the encryption on the port authority servers broken by midnight,” Raphael’s voice rang out, “If the government wants to track our shipments, I want them looking at a ghost fleet in the middle of the Atlantic.”

The employees didn’t even look up. They just worked faster. These weren’t typical mobsters with scars and suits, these were the best hackers and analysts money could buy, all working in the darkness to keep the Chicago Outfit invisible.

They were scrubbing digital footprints, rerouting wire transfers, and intercepting federal communications before

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify