Billionaire & CEO

found Mama Alma in the kitchen. Of course, where else would she be? Kaylee was on the floor having a tea party with her dolls and bears. "Remi!" The little blonde princess jumped up and ran to me. I picked her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around me. I breathed in her apple-scented shampoo. "Hey, KayKay. Are you being good to Mama?" Kaylee smiled and nodded. Then she squirmed and I set her down on the floor to go back to her tea party guests. Mama smiled and I walked over to kiss her thin, dark cheek. She smelled like home.

For the first eight years of my life, I didn't know what that word meant. Then the angels smiled on me and sent an angry little girl to a foster home run by Mama. She had owned this house in Sunset Park, Brooklyn for years.

The small warehouse next door was her husband's. Unable to have children of their own, they became foster parents. Big Mike had died a year before I arrived, but Alma had never stopped opening her home. And some of us hadn't really left. I would be twenty-seven on my next birthday, and I hadn't gone very far. Steve had been one of Mama's first foster children. Kaylee was Steve's daughter, but Mama still had three children with her-two boys, ages nine and ten, and a teenage girl. "I'll pour us some tea," Mama said. I sank into the chair at the rickety table. The kitchen hadn't changed in decades. "I'd rather have a shot of bourbon to celebrate. I just finished a job." Mama made a sound in her throat. "We don't have bourbon in this house." I picked up a cookie from the plate on the table. Mmm. Chocolate chip, my favorite. She set a teacup in front of me. Mama loved collecting the flowery, delicate teacups at outdoor markets. None of them matched. Like my family, Mama always told me. When I finished my cookie, I studied Mama-she looked tired and her face was drawn. I grimaced. Mama always said she was a mix of the best-African-American, a dash of Hispanic, and a bit of hardy Irish stock. I guess that's why I liked her at first sight-I was a mix, too. Mostly Hispanic, though I had no idea who my parents were.

I probably had an African-American ancestor somewhere in the tree, too, and a few other things-who knows what-crept in. Mama had beautiful dark brown skin and curly black hair. She was also two inches taller than me. I sighed and sipped my tea. I was curvy and petite, aka short, at five foot-okay, almost five foot. And I had hips, an ass, and breasts. My dark brown hair got a few golden highlights in the summer, especially if I actually managed to get out in the sun. "You okay, Mama?" "Okay, kiddo, okay." - She didn't meet my gaze. My heart sank. She was lying. Mama never lied. Sometimes she chose not to answer, but she never lied. "Mama?" I pressed my hand into hers. When had she gotten so fragile? She looked away, at Kaylee. That's when I noticed the paperwork on the table. I grabbed it. "Remina, no-" I did the scan. It was a letter from a doctor. I saw the words and my chest tightened. Looking up at the woman who had been my mother, father, friend, and savior, I shook my head. "Brain tumor?" My words were a harsh whisper. Mama pressed her lips together and nodded. No. No.

Mama was the glue in our little world. I looked at Kaylee, swallowed hard, and met Mama's dark gaze. "So what's the treatment? Chemo?" My stomach churned at the thought, but whatever we had to do to cure her, we would do. "Yeah-" Mama cleared her throat. "The doctor said chemo won't help." "What?" Panic was slick and ugly in my throat. "So what, then?" "Nothing, my child. Nothing." I stared blankly at the letter and saw what it said. "Six months?" Mama shifted in her chair, her eyes covered with a sheen of tears. "No one can say for sure. The Lord always has a plan." "Screw that." I stood up and saw Kaylee flinch in surprise. "Sorry, Kaylee." I reached for another sheet of paper and Mama tried to grab it. I took a deep breath. "There's an operation." Mama straightened. "It's experimental, Remi. There's no guarantee it would work." A pause. "And it's very expensive." I looked down. When I saw the dollar amount, it felt like my feet had fallen through the floor. I gripped the edge of the table. "Mama-" The front door slammed, followed by the sound of running feet and young voices. "Mama! We're back from the park." Two boys ran in, dropping their backpacks on the floor. Charlie, who had a stocky build, a shock of red hair, and freckles. Jamal followed a step behind. He was thin, dark-skinned, and had a shy smile. They were both thick as thieves. "Charlie. Jami," Kaylee called. The boys hugged Mama, me, and Kaylee. Naomi fell into step more slowly. At fifteen, she was too old to run and play like the kids, and she was surgically wired to the phone. She did well in school, stayed out of trouble, and loved to cook and bake. "Mama, I'm making cookies," Naomi said. "I already did, kiddo." "I see Remi likes them. We need more." I stuck out my tongue. Naomi was five foot seven-as tall as I'd ever dreamed of being. "I have to run." I hugged Mama, a little tighter than usual. "We'll talk later. Everything will be okay." "I love you, Remi Solano." "I love you, too." - I struggled to keep my shit together and walked back to my loft.

I managed to avoid Steve. Dropping into my desk chair, I sat in front of my laptop, staring blankly at the wall. I thought about the kids, Steve and Kaylee, myself. We couldn't lose Mama. It was so unfair. My face contorted. She had given so much. She was so loving and selfless. I wanted to scream or throw something. Without stopping to think, I opened my laptop. I tapped quickly, going to a dark part of the web. I was a white hat hacker. I hacked legally to test client systems. White hats were usually employed by the government or security companies. Okay, so I was a white hat hacker with a dash of gray. Gray hats had no agenda and hacked for fun. Black hat hackers, on the other hand... My stomach dropped. I left a note on a black hat message board. Rogue Angel available.

I couldn't let Mama die. *** Mav Maverick Rivera finished tying his bow tie and pulled on his tuxedo jacket. He headed for the door, sending one last glance at the naked woman lying face down on the bed, fast asleep. He hadn't left his number. He never did. He'd met her at the bar downstairs. He only hooked up with women who wanted exactly what he did-a few hours of no-strings-attached sex. Leaving the hotel room, he headed down to the ballroom. He grimaced at the noise of the crowd. Another damn party to go to. This ball was for some veterans' charity that his friend Liam supported. Mav would rather be at home with a glass of whiskey or in his lab. Still, as his friends liked to remi

his two best friends. Normally, the three of them would sip the whiskey, make a donation, and keep society mothers from marrying their daughters off to billionaires. But things had changed recently. His stomach clenched, and he grabbed a waiter to order a scotch on the rocks.

"Macallan, if you have it." The man nodded. "Right away, sir." When Mav returned, he spotted Zane on the dance floor. The king of Wall Street was smiling down at the woman he held tightly in his arms. Monroe was wearing a long, silvery gown that sparkled, her long black hair loose around her shoulders. Mav had met Zane Roth and Liam Kensington in college. They had all become friends, brothers. Each had made their fortunes: Zane in finance, Liam in real estate and development, and Mav in tech. Unfortunately, that had also painted targets on their backs. Another couple whizzed by, laughing with Zane and Monroe. Liam did some smooth moves on the dance floor. He came from money-he could dance, he could party with perfect manners, and he wore a tuxedo like he was born with one.

He held his new girlfriend, and the love of his life, tucked against him. Aspen's platinum blonde hair was pinned back tonight, leaving her shoulders bare. She wore a column of black that hugged her athletic body and flared at her knees. Liam's tailor was having a great time dressing the woman. Yes, the billionaire bachelors of New York were gone. There was only him now, and he would never marry. "Your drink, sir." He tilted his chin to the bartender and accepted his drink. Mav had learned a long time ago that trusting a woman was a fool's game. They wanted all kinds of things, but mostly they wanted money. He looked at his friends and their women. He had his doubts about Monroe and Aspen at first, but it didn't take long for him to like them.

And what they brought to his friends. The couples were in love. Mav sipped his scotch again, reluctantly admitting that they were the exception that proved the rule. Love was for idiots. He had Hannah to thank for that lesson. In his senior year of college, he'd met a smart, beautiful girl from next door. She was blonde, blue-eyed, tall, and thin. She'd fallen for him, and he'd fallen for her. In fact, she'd fallen for his first billion dollars. He'd just sold his first invention-a new computer chip. The money was about to come in, and there were articles all over it. He'd never suspected that Hannah wasn't real. That pretty face, the sincere smile, the good sex.

Hell, he'd bought her flowers. He downed the rest of his drink. Ancient fucking history. He should be thanking Hannah. She'd taught him a valuable lesson. "Mav." Dark-haired Zane walked up and slapped Mav on the back. Monroe leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Hey," Mav said. "The big man emerges from his Batcave," a female voice said. He scowled at Aspen, and the PI just smiled. Liam kept an arm around her and reached out to shake Mav's hand. They were both recovering nicely after being trapped in a burning warehouse. Liam and Aspen had been in some trouble recently. "Hey, any luck stopping those hacks at Rivera Tech?" Liam asked. Last week, Rivera Tech's system was hit with a series of hacking attempts.

It lasted a few days and kept Mav and his team busy. Then it stopped. The hackers either gave up or hired someone better. "They stopped. I've been busy increasing the security of the system ever since," Mav said. "How are things with you?" "Well, Aspen's sisters text me at least twice a day, giddy about having their apartment to themselves," Liam said. Aspen grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter. "Hey, I have a multimillion-dollar penthouse to call home now. I'm not complaining. I do miss Mrs. Kerber, though. My old neighbor. I asked Juno and Briar to help her out if her bird, Skittles, escaped again." And there it was. Aspen was good, right down to the bone. "Yeah," Liam said.

"My personal PI managed to track down the girls in the photos with my dad." The man's lip curled. Mav's fingers tightened on his glass. Liam hated his father. The elder Kensington was a jerk with a penchant for teenage girls. That, mixed with a few white-collar criminals and an attempted blackmail, was how Aspen and Liam met. Aspen leaned on her man. "One of the girls agreed to press charges." Liam's smile was dark. "My dad will finally pay for his crimes." Mav raised his glass. "I'll drink to that." "Well, my billionaire boyfriend is driving me crazy." "He can be really annoying sometimes." Now Zane gave Mav a narrowed look. "He wants to invest in Lady Locksmith and help me expand the stores," Monroe said. Aspen spun around. "And that's a bad thing?" Liam nodded.

"Sounds like a good investment to me." Monroe, the daughter of a professional thief, owned a locksmith shop that specialized in providing women's locksmiths with locks for women in New York. She was also a pro at cracking a safe, which is how she met Zane-when she broke his. "I know, but it's mine." Monroe's nose wrinkled. "He owns the rest of New York." Zane pulled her close. "I just want you happy." She cupped his cheek. "I'm happy." Mav had to look away. The music changed. "Oh, I love that one," Monroe said. "Come on. We're dancing." Liam groaned. "Chandler here has two left feet." His wife elbowed him. "You've been warned."

"But the chance to hold you in my arms, darling, is worth the pain." The couples stepped aside, and Mav felt... It definitely wasn't envy. Relief. Yes, he was too smart to get involved with this. "Maverick Rivera," a voice drawled. He turned away and hid a grimace. Oh no. Mrs. Randolph, one of New York's most prominent socialites, approached him. "I want you to meet my lovely daughter." The woman inclined her coiffed head. Mav saw the tall, thin blonde nearby. She smiled shyly at him. "No," he growled. Mrs. Randolph took a step back and blinked. She probably didn't hear that word often. "Well, I guess there's no harm in-" "No." Mav held up her empty glass. "I need a drink. Have a good night."

He headed for the bar. Yeah, Hannah had taught him a lesson, and his heart was too scarred to let anyone in again. He loved his family. He loved Zane and Liam, and now their women. But Mav would never, ever fall in love again. He leaned against the bar. "Scotch. Double. STRONG KNOX Remi." I stared at the screen, my gut churning. The cursor blinked at me. I had a job in the black hat boardroom. There was a crash in the next room. "Hey," I called out. "Don't break anything." "Sorry, Remi," Charlie said. "It was an accident. Of course it was." I sat at the kitchen table, and Mama was taking a nap. The kids were home from school, and I'd volunteered to babysit them for a bit. She looked so tired.

I chewed on my bottom lip. I knew Charlie and Jamal were fighting. Naomi was humming behind me as she made a cake. She had headphones in her ears and was dancing a little as she mixed and stirred. Jamal ran into the kitchen, laughing, followed by a determined-looking Charlie. A few seconds later, a giggling Kaylee followed, trying to keep up with the boys. It felt like a stone had lodged in my throat. If Mama didn't make it... I dropped my head into my hands. The job that awaited me hurt.

I'd never broken the law before. Okay, I'd shoplifted once, because Marianne Anderson had dared me to. I'd taken a tube of lip gloss and a pack of gum. When Mama found out, she'd taken me to the store to return them and apologize. I'd done my share of hacking, too, which

Kaylee was two. A toddler had put a big damper on Crystal's parties. I'd never liked her. Steve had been a single dad ever since. He'd told me countless times that he couldn't do it without Mama. More weight settled on my shoulders. Maybe I wouldn't have to take this black hat job. Maybe I could work hard for Killian, and Steve could help out, and I could get a loan or something. Steve dropped heavily into the chair across from me and ran his hand over his face. Shit, did he know about Mama?

"Everything okay?" I asked. He met my gaze. "Not yet. But I'll get to that." He let out a long sigh. "I've had a few clients who haven't paid lately. They're having cash flow problems." "What?" I leaned forward. "So they don't ask you to work if they don't have the money to pay for it." "Easy, Remi." These are guys I know. They're going through tough times. Someone's filing for bankruptcy." He sighed. "Things are just going to be tough for a while, that's all."

God. I stared blindly at the floor. He couldn't help with the medical bills, then. And if Mama wasn't around to take care of Kaylee, he'd have to pay someone. "Hey, I've got work to do before dinner. You got the kids?" Steve waved his hand. "Go." I grabbed my laptop and ran back to my loft. I tried to swallow the bad taste in my mouth, but I thought about Mama, Steve, and Kaylee, the kids...and me. A world without Mama Alma wasn't one I could imagine. I had to protect my family, the way Mama had protected me. With grim determination, I sat down at the desk in my loft and opened my laptop. Opening the browser, I scrolled to the black hat sign. It filled the screen. I clicked on work. Good morning, Rogue Angel. Your reputation precedes you. I have a job that only someone of your caliber could handle. "Yeah, yeah, flattery won't get you anywhere. The pay for the job is a million dollars." I sighed. Holy crap, a million dollars.

I took a few calming breaths. That was enough to get Mama to get her act together. I gripped the arms of my chair. I saw that Kaylee had put some angel stickers on them. I scratched my fingernail across the shiny surface. I would do anything for my family. I clicked to the next page. The job is to hack into Rivera Tech and copy all files pertaining to Project Calix. Oh. Hell. Rivera Tech. One of the biggest tech companies on the planet. Hell, my laptop was Rivera Tech. I groaned. If anyone had top-notch security, it would be Maverick Rivera, billionaire CEO and owner of Rivera Tech. I stared at the screen and opened a search. I typed in his name.

An image popped up and my heart did a little flip. Hot. I snorted. Yeah, yeah, so did every other woman in New York City. He was big-tall, broad-shouldered. The guy had to work out, because I knew sitting behind a computer all day didn't make you look that way. He was handsome in a rough, rugged way. He had tan skin, dark brown eyes, and stubble on his hard jaw.

I was addicted to stubble. For some reason, instead of sitting at a computer, I imagined him holding a sword, not a keyboard. A headache blossomed behind my left eye, and I rubbed my temple. Then I opened the drawer and grabbed a stick of gum. I chewed it, hoping it would ease my anxiety. Damn, Rivera Tech was known for its killer security. Hell, Rivera invented half the stuff used in all computers today. But no system was unbeatable. I thought of Mama and tapped the keyboard. I'll do this. There. Done. A message popped up almost instantly. Very good. You have one week. I closed my eyes. What had I gotten myself into? I sat up straight and thought about Mama. Okay. I needed to map Rivera's network and look for vulnerabilities.

Find all the strengths and weaknesses of his system. I put my foot down. I knew some gray hat hacker friends, and surely someone had tried to crack Rivera Tech before. They might have valuable information for me. I considered reaching out to my online hacker friend, Wesley. We'd met online two years ago. He was a geek through and through and lived in his mother's basement. She cooked for him and did all his laundry. But lately, he kept asking me out. Okay, he'd asked me out about four hundred times. The man couldn't get it right, and I was getting too embarrassed to tell him I wasn't interested without hurting his feelings. No, I wasn't going to call Wes. I'd send him some emails later, but right now, I could fly a little.

I wiggled my fingers, took a second to admire my nails, and then opened a window. I tapped a command and opened a little program I'd written myself. Okay, time to dance. I didn't hammer on the Rivera Tech system. I danced around the edges. I sent out a few pings. Active reconnaissance involved interacting with a target. It gave more accurate information, but it increased the risk of being caught by a firewall or network security. Shit. I studied the data. Bullshit. Bullshit. Shit on a stick. Rivera's system was pure beauty. Fort Knox. I bit my lip. I wanted to get a closer look. I tapped furiously. As I watched, my stomach knotted. This was not going to be a walk in the park. I was good, but what I was seeing could take more than a week to crack. The guy had alarms everywhere.

He had security backups in his backups. "Man, someone's a little paranoid." It makes sense. Rivera was a technology god. He would have a lot of important stuff in the system. And I suspected there were people who would pay top dollar to get their hands on their projects. A bit of corporate espionage. My chest tightened. Probably like my mysterious new employer. I hated not knowing who the job was for. Or what exactly I was delivering. There was no going back now. I heard a ping and froze. I scanned the screen. Oh no. No no no. My fingers blurred as I typed. Fuck it. I would trigger an alarm. Okay. I wasn't deep into the system, just the outer layers. Besides, I was Rogue Angel.

No one would be good enough to catch me. My pulse slowed and a sense of calm descended, along with a twinge of excitement. Yes, going somewhere you weren't supposed to was a bit of a turn-on. I'd look around a bit more, clean up my tracks, and then disappear for now. And no doubt leave the security geeks at Rivera Tech scratching their heads. MAV HE hammered the punching bag - left, knee, hook, kick. Zane and her hard and grumpy coach, Simeon.Mav and his friends knew from the beginning that they didn't want to be followed around by security or bodyguards 24/7, so they made a pact to learn how to defend themselves. Mav also worked out here at home, in his decorated home gym. He liked the challenge of pushing himself, lifting weights, building strength. He also liked to run on the treadmill or punch the heavy bag.

It helped clear his head. Most of all, he loved computers and inventing new and interesting technologies that solved problems. He liked nothing more than getting lost in the design of a new program or tinkering in his lab. Unfortunately, bringing all of that to market meant meetings, business shit, finances, interviews, and people. Yeah, he could live without the people bit. Mav was always the big, quiet kid growing up. He always felt weird and out of place. Until his dad brought home an old, hand-me-down PC. And then Mav met his computer studies teacher in high school. Mr. Walker was a total nerd, and he'd introduced Mav to programming. Mav had found the place where everything flowed and made sense. His phone pinged.