Love Bytes

by Dahlia Dewinters

  “I know,” he whispered against her neck, his lips soft and warm against her skin. Again, his mouth covered hers, tasting, and exploring even as he continued to slide his fingers against her.

  Violet stroked his thick hair, the tight curls crisp between her fingers, finding the place at the back of his neck where the hair was silky and smooth. If she could be anywhere, at any time, it would be right here. “But we can’t do it in the parking lot,” she protested.

  “Nobody’s here.” He kissed her again, flicking his tongue against hers until she couldn’t think of any reason why this wouldn’t be a good idea. She fumbled at his zipper, and gripped his erection, sliding her fingers along the hot skin.

  He shivered at her touch, reacting to her eager caress. Touching him increased her excitement, made her entire body long to be filled.

  “Hurry…hurry,” she moaned, squeezing and stroking.

  “Jesus, Vee, if you keep doing that, they’ll be no reason to hurry. Here,” he shoved the foil packet into her hands.

  With expert fingers, she ripped the foil packet open and rolled the rubber on. Francis placed both hands against her bottom, lifting and bracing her against the car. The head of his cock nudged between her legs and slid into her with a quick push, eliciting a surprised “Oh!” from her and bringing them face to face.

  Violet bit at his lip and then kissed him hard, carried away by the raw excitement of the act, the cold of the night air contrasting with his warmth.

  His body was heavy against hers, pinning her against the side of her car, each thrust deep and measured. Francis murmured against her neck, tickling her. She gasped with delight, eager for more, her inner muscles squeezing him until he moaned.

  His hips moved faster, teasing her until the sensations became unbearable. With a loud gasp, she climaxed, writhing, trapped between him and the car, a death grip around his neck.

  Francis buried himself inside her, deep, her spasms urging him to his own release.

  When they had both regained control, he lowered her to the ground, holding her firm until her legs became steady.

  They both fixed their clothes. Violet adjusted her skirt, smoothing the fabric down over her legs. “I think I liked that better than the necklace,” she said.

  He kissed the side of her face, then her lips. “Come home with me tonight, Violet.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging at her hair.

  “Francis, I can’t.” She buttoned her coat. “It’s complicated with us.”

  “It’s not that complicated.” He adjusted her scarf, tucking it into her collar. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “When it comes to me, everything is. I have to go. Thank you so much for the necklace. I love it.” Putting a hand on either side of his face, she kissed his lips, a gentle touch. She opened her car door, slid into the seat, and started the engine.

  “Vee…” He grabbed her door before she could shut it. “You still insist on dodging me. Remember, I have a lot of patience.”

  Violet tipped her head and grinned. “That’s what I like best about you, Francis. See you in the morning.”

  He shut her door and she drove off.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alyssa sat down with her bottle of Coke Zero and tapped on her keyboard to bring her screen to life. She was making awesome progress on the program and a whole day left until deadline, she was more than certain that they were going to make it.

  She clicked on her working file and sat back in her chair. Alyssa stared open-mouthed at her screen for a second. She then clicked on the rest of the files she’d been working on. She rechecked the file names to make sure she was clicking on the right file.

  Nothing but gibberish. There were no neatly indented lines of orderly characters that made sense. Everything was gone.

  “Pete!” She called across the divider. “Are you having trouble with your files?”

  “If trouble means that the shit is gone, then yes.”

  “Sugar.” Alyssa drank some soda. “Where’s Rogers?”

  “I’m right here.” He stood next to her, a cup of coffee in his hand. “All my stuff’s gone too.”

  Alyssa typed frantically on her keyboard, hoping against hope that she’d made a stupid mistake and saved it under another name. After a few minutes with Rogers breathing over her shoulder, she sat back in her chair, defeated.

  “All our shit, all that hard work, all that is friggin’ gone.” She turned to look at Rogers. “What the hell happened?”

  ****

  The bad news left Violet stunned. Yesterday, she had been on top, they had beaten whoever was trying to beat them. Now? They had nothing.

  When the office door opened, Violet didn’t look up from where she was crunching figures on her computer. There was nothing left to do, really, but decide how much longer they were going to be able to pay the lease on the place as well as their employees.

  “Francis, we have to decide if we’re going to keep the programmers or give them their two weeks’ notice. I’m not sure if we can still carry the lease, but that’s in the business name, so that’s not a big… What’s this?”

  The huge purple arrangement that Francis placed on her desk was beautiful but the look on his face was less than pleased. “You tell me.”

  “They’re not from you?”

  He jammed the card in her hand. “They’re from ‘a friend’,” he said. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know who they’re from.” She glanced at the card and dropped it to her desk. “And I don’t appreciate—”

  “Are they from Joe?”

  Now that made her angry. “Jesus God, Francis, I just said I don’t know who they’re from!”

  Francis gave her a speculative look. “I say that because you and he were rather cozy there. Free coffee and all.” His tone was mild but direct. “Talking and chatting with each other.”

  What could she say to him? “That’s all it was, talking.”

  “Apparently it means more than that to him. Word around was that he was into you.”

  Violet snorted. “Don’t tell me you listen to idle gossip from those airheads in the design school. I thought you knew better than that.”

  “I thought I knew you better than that.” He glanced at the flowers. “This is why it’s complicated for you?”

  “I don’t know who the flowers are from. What else can I say to you?” She needed to show him clear-eyed reason. Then they could go back to how they were. “This is why I should have never had dinner with you. You’re acting possessive. Aren’t you more evolved?”

  Francis stared at her, his cool façade crumbling before her eyes. “Do you think I’m some kind of machine?” He leaned toward her, over the desk, lowered his voice. “You think I can fuck you for months and not feel something for you? If that’s evolved, then throw me back in the Stone Age.”

  Violet pushed her chair back and grabbed her messenger bag. Francis’ show of emotion unsettled her, made her feel shaky and weak. It was as if a dam had broken and everything burst forth in a wild display of sloppy feelings. She fought to keep her voice steady and unemotional, though she was trembling and on the edge of tears. “You are free to see anyone else you want. That was the deal.”

  “Like you have? Your friend?” The calculating Francis was back, his eyes sharp and focused behind his lenses. “Are you seeing coffee shop Joe, hmm? Tell me the truth, Violet. All I want is the truth.”

  Her voice was quiet, emotionless. “No, I’m not seeing him. I don’t know who the flowers are from.” She picked up her messenger bag and placed the strap on her shoulder, rubbed at her chest.

  Francis stood in front of his desk, staring at her, his white shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow as usual, the watch she’d given him gleaming silver on his wrist. She let her gaze roam over him, taking him in. Navy sweater vest, no tie, tan khakis.

  “Did this whole…” He made a helpless gesture with his hand. “Did this mean anything to you? Or is your emotional strangulation so complete th
at it’s nothing but a lark?”

  Emotional strangulation? Violet stared at him, wanting to answer, wanting to tell him that, of course, he meant everything to her. That she wasn’t emotionally strangled at all. But she dropped her gaze from his, tongue-tied, unable to form the words that would close the chasm that had opened between them.

  Someone knocked on the door. “Francis, are you available?” It was Rogers.

  Seizing her chance to get away, Violet eased toward the door and opened it.

  Rogers gave her a look of near disgust and pushed past her. “Francis, what’s going to happen? With the firm and all.”

  “Give me a second, would you?” Francis snapped at Rogers. He called after her. “Violet!”

  She turned around, raised a hand, and gave him a fake smile. “I have to go, Francis. You handle it any way you feel is proper. I pulled the numbers up on my computer. You’re free to take a look and make any decisions you need to make. I have to go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Violet concentrated on the road as she drove, thankful for the light late morning traffic. As she pushed open her back door, the tight feeling in her chest persisted, despite the deep breaths. She tossed her keys and messenger bag on the kitchen table, watched them skitter across the polished wood surface to rest next to the wooden fruit basket. The apples had gone bad who knows how long ago and there were clouds of fruit flies congregating around the rotting fruit. Two tears ran down her cheeks and she swiped her hand across her face, angry at herself. She never thought of herself as a cruel person, but her words to Francis were just that. Yet, as much as she yearned for that connection with him, she was so afraid that if he got any closer, he wouldn’t like what he saw.

  The whole situation was so trite it was laughable. She was scared of Francis, scared of commitment, scared of making herself vulnerable to someone, giving them the power to snap her in two. She was a mouse, scurrying back in her hole at the first sign of danger, hiding from the world.

  Emotional strangulation indeed.

  Violet tossed her coat in the general direction of a living room chair and marched down the hallway to her bedroom where she threw herself on her rumpled bed. There hadn’t been much time for housekeeping in the past two weeks. Dry-eyed, she stared at the ceiling, following the cracks in the paint. Everything had crashed and burned. No software, no business, and no Francis. The thought of losing him made her chest heave and she grabbed a pillow and squeezed it in a tight embrace. What a fuck-up she was.

  Her skull felt like someone was knocking on it with a rubber mallet and her eyes were hot and blurry. Enough of this pity-party.

  Violet pushed herself off the bed and went into her office, her bleary-eyed gaze falling to the stack of bills piled next to her laptop.

  “Damn it to hell,” she said, her voice creaky and tired in the silence. Might as well look at them now. She could handle the cold, hard reality of bills and money.

  Violet sat down at her desk, retrieved her letter opener from the top drawer, and picked up the first envelope.

  ****

  Using the figures that Violet had left on her computer, Francis assured the three programmers that they would be paid through the end of March. No further projects were planned as of yet and if any were, he’d keep them informed. Meanwhile, they might want to start dusting off their resumes.

  He spent the next few hours chasing down the beta testers and letting them know what happened. In between calls, he tried Violet’s cell phone, but she wasn’t answering. It was his own fault: he’d pushed her too hard. If those flowers were from Joe, and he suspected that they were, he refused to believe Violet had any idea that he had sent them. He also didn’t believe there was anything between them. As wonderful as this new clarity was, it did him no good now.

  The programmers had gone home with their paychecks and worried looks. He didn’t blame them. There was still the question of the lease of the place and the bills that would come in at the end of the month. Despite the work to be done, he couldn’t hang around the office anymore. It was too stifling.

  At home, he stood in the front alcove, flipping through the mail. He started to take off his coat when he realized he didn’t have his phone.

  “Shit,” he said, one arm still in its overcoat sleeve. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need his phone. It could wait until tomorrow. What he needed was a hot shower, a meal and to talk with Violet, and not necessarily in that order.

  You don’t need it. Leave it at the office. It’ll be fine.

  “Dammit,” he said and shrugged back into his coat. He’d go, grab the phone and come right back home. An hour, tops. Then he’d call Violet.

  ****

  Violet sat back in her office chair, a grin tugging at her lips as she stared at her credit card statement. If this were true, then a few of her problems were solved. She jumped up from her desk and ran through the house to the kitchen where she dug through her messenger bag for her cell phone. Francis had to know about this. Right away. Despite their broken relationship, he would want to know about this.

  Francis had called five times, which made her smile. She called him back, but got the voicemail. He must be in a low coverage area because he always answered his phone. She sent a text with the good news and danced in place as she waited for his reply. Violet grinned in the semi-darkness of her kitchen. Her phone buzzed in her hand. Meet me at the office. Violet smiled. She had sent him the best news of the year and he didn’t even use an exclamation point. Typical Francis. Violet snatched her keys and her messenger bag and dashed to her car.

  ****

  The offices were dark but as she moved through the empty corridors, Violet could make out a thin sliver of light from under their office door. A flash of warmth spread through her and she smiled. She would tell him the good news, then she would apologize and everything would be okay.

  She pushed open her office door. “Francis, I’ve got great—” Her words came to an abrupt stop when she saw the programmer sitting behind Francis’ desk. “Rogers,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  Someone seized her from behind and she was half-carried, half-dragged to a chair. Instinct made her struggle but a stunning blow on the side of her head collapsed her knees and she sank down, the anonymous hands like vises around her upper arms. Was this some sort of a holdup? Where was Francis?

  Panicked breaths wheezed in and out of her chest and she struggled to stop shaking. She’d heard of computer espionage, of companies stealing, sabotaging, but that had been remote, a news story that passed over her screen, never to be thought of again. Yet here she was, in the thick of it.

  Rogers got up from Francis’ desk, walked around and leaned against the front.

  “Hi, Violet.” He spoke as if they were meeting over lunch. “About MathMages. Where’s this backup copy?”

  Logic trumped fear for a second. “How do you know about…” She licked her trembling lips. “What are you talking about? What is this…besides kidnapping?” Wisecracking wasn’t in her best interest, but she couldn’t comprehend that Rogers, the one programmer who had been with them the longest, who was Francis’ fucking friend, was questioning her with some goon holding her captive. Numbness worked its way down her arms and she wiggled her shoulders. “Tell your friend he’s holding me too tight. My arms are numb.”

  Rogers snickered. “Do I look like Francis to you? You’re not jerking me around.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to know where the backup copy is.”

  A harsh laugh burst from her mouth and she shook her head. “There’s no backup. You’ve got your information wrong.”

  Rogers nodded. “Okay, Violet. Let’s stop this game right now.” He reached behind him and picked up Francis’ phone from the desk. “It’s right here.”

  “That was a ploy,” she lied. “I wanted to see him. He was angry with me and I wanted to apologize.”

  “You’re full of shit, Violet.” He looked around t
he darkened office. “This is going to sound clichéd, but we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. You’re going to log on, find this backup copy and destroy it.”

  “Why would I screw up my own stuff? That’s stupid.”

  Rogers shrugged. “Who knows? People will be more concerned about your murder.”

  At the word “murder,” Violet blinked, her vision dimming. He was kidding, right? He wasn’t actually going to kill her over software?

  “What have I ever done to you to make you treat me like this? Haven’t I been fair to you?” She tried to get up, but the man behind her held her down.

  “It’s not always about you, Violet. Avarix Software offered me a better deal. Much more money than I would have gained from your shitty bonus.”

  Violet shook her head. “But Avarix has investors, backers... they’re running with a lot more capital.” She trailed off. There was no use trying to convince him otherwise. He was going to kill her for whatever amount of money and prestige that Avarix offered him. “You’re stupid if you think that they’ll keep you on. You’re a whore for the next high roller.” She wanted to spit at him, but her mouth was too dry.

  Rogers laughed as his lecherous gaze crawled over her body, lingering at her breasts, moved lower. “Takes one to know one.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The man behind her grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled it until she stood up. Tears of pain welled in her eyes and she bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing.

  “Enough,” he snapped, the harsh voice familiar.

  It couldn’t be. “Joe?” She craned her neck to look around.

  He smiled at her, the same gentle smile he’d given her when he handed her cups of coffee. “Yeah, it’s me.” He gestured. “Take off your coat, sweetie. Get comfortable.”

  Violet put her gloved hands to her face. “I am so fucking stupid.”

  Her whispered confession made Joe laugh a little. “You’re not stupid, Violet. I’m just that good.” He stepped around the chair and grabbed her by the hair again, twisted her curls in a tight fist as he used his other hand to unbutton her coat. “Now take it off.”