Hard Drive: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (Tech Titans Book 1)

by Marcella Swann

  The engine was loud, but the ride was smooth, with a slight vibration Gigi was embarrassed to admit she loved for all the wrong reasons.

  They were on 101, heading south. She gazed out her window at the darkness passing by, trying to make out where they might be heading at such a late hour.

  “We going to Pacifica?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “San Bruno?”

  Damian shook his head.

  “San Mateo?”

  “Nope.”

  “Anything with a ‘San’ in it? Redwood City? Palo Alto? Half Moon Bay? Am I ever seeing daylight again?”

  “Relax,” Damian laughed. “I told you: we’re going out for lunch.”

  In the distance, Gigi could make out a large cluster of lights.

  “Hey, wait,” she said. “Is that…?”

  He turned to her, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. “Could be.”

  Damian turned down a dark two-lane road that ran parallel to a runway. Beyond it, San Francisco International Airport shone like cosmic diamond in the night.

  Up ahead, through the windshield, Gigi saw a small booth by the side of the road and a uniformed officer standing outside it. Damian slowed and lowered his window.

  “Good evening, sir,” the officer said, leaning in slightly.

  “Right back atcha,” said Damian. He held open his wallet and flashed some ID.

  “Very good, Mr. Black. Enjoy your trip.” The officer tipped his hat at Gigi and stepped back to his booth.

  Damian followed the service road another minute or two until a large corporate jet came into view.

  “Oh my God,” Gigi said. “Is that a private jet?”

  “No,” said Damian. As he pulled onto the runway and rolled to a stop by the hanger, he turned to Gigi and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s my private jet.”

  What have I gotten myself into? Gigi thought, slowly ascending the stairs to the plane’s side door. Behind her, Damian tossed the Bugatti keys to a casually-dressed man at the bottom of the stairs. “Take good care of her,” he said. “And no trips down to L.A.”

  The man laughed and said, “Sure thing, Mr. Black.”

  Gigi entered the plane and stopped. Turning to Damian she said, “Okay, I need to know right now where we’re going.”

  “I told you. We’re going out to lunch.”

  “On a corporate jet.”

  “Yes.”

  “At”—she looked at her watch—“nearly midnight.”

  “That’s right.” Damian motioned toward the cabin seats. “Just trust me.”

  Trust you? she thought. I don’t even really know you. And in any case, I probably shouldn’t trust anyone who makes my spine melt the way you do.

  Gigi turned and made her way to the cabin seats and sat down. Damian slid casually into a seat across from her. A small, glossy table separated them.

  A smartly-dressed woman, mid-30s and beautiful, emerged from the rear of the plane. “May I get you two something to drink? And perhaps a bite to eat? We’ll be taking off momentarily.”

  Damian gestured toward Gigi. “An adult beverage?”

  I already feel slightly drunk, she thought. Actual alcohol might not be a smart move.

  “A glass of wine,” she said. “White.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  “Beer,” he said. “Dark.”

  The woman disappeared in the rear of the plane and returned in what struck Gigi as an impossibly brief amount of time.

  “White wine for you, ma’am. And a dark beer for you, sir.” She stood up straight and looked very pleased. “May I get either of you anything else?”

  “That’s all for now, Barbara. Once we’re in the air, maybe you can bring out something to munch on, some appetizers or something. Whatever you have back there.”

  “Very good, sir.” She nodded politely at Gigi and disappeared once more in the rear of the plane.

  “Barbara’s very beautiful,” Gigi said, eyes narrowing.

  Damian grinned and shrugged. “Momma didn’t raise no dummy.” He reached across the small table and clinked his beer bottle against Gigi’s wine glass.

  “What are we drinking to?” she asked.

  Damian looked at her and thought for a minute. “To lunch at odd hours,” he said.

  Chapter 7

  Aloft

  Gigi gazed out the window by her seat. Lights from small towns seemed to float by on a black sea beneath them.

  “We’ve been in the air for 30 minutes now and you still haven’t told me where we’re going. Since there’s solid ground beneath us and not an ocean, I think it’s safe to assume we’re not headed to Japan.”

  Damian looked thoughtfully at his empty beer bottle on the table between them, then at Gigi. “Our first stop will be in New York.”

  Gigi’s eyes widened. “New York?” She paused. “City or state?”

  “City,” Damian said. “But we’ll only be there a few minutes. Just need to top off the tank.”

  Gigi managed to frown and grin at the same time. “Top off the tank? Where are we headed—Mars?”

  “Nowhere quite that exotic.” Damian relaxed in his seat, stretched his legs, and rested the back of his head against his interlaced fingers. “So, tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Everything.”

  “About me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t even know you,” Gigi said, a detectable twinge of defiance in her voice.

  “It’s past midnight and you’re cruising over America’s heartland in the corporate jet of Damian Black, millennial billionaire and face of one of the biggest friggin’ companies on the planet. I’m in the tabloids weekly and on TMZ nightly. You don’t know me?”

  “I know you’re arrogant and smooth and you bed down with carb-phobic models and bubble gum-brained pop singers on a nightly basis.”

  “Well, in that case, I’d say you really don’t know me at all, then.”

  Gigi thought she saw something flash in Damian’s eyes: disappointment? hurt? She wasn’t sure…

  “Enlighten me,” Gigi said, tipping back her glass and finishing the rest of her wine. She set the empty glass on the table and looked squarely at Damian.

  There was a long pause, as if Damian were debating the wisdom of going forward.

  “Alrighty, then, let’s take ‘em one at a time. ‘Arrogance.’”

  “Yes.”

  “You say you know I’m arrogant.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  A pause. Gigi made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Look at who I am. Look at what I am. Look at where I am.”

  Oh, I’m looking at you, Gigi thought. I wish I could tear my eyes away from you and stop imagining your smooth, tan skin against mine.

  “I’m Damian Black,” he said.

  “As you’re so fond of reminding me.”

  “There’s a weight that comes with that. I’m not an anonymous worker bee in far-off factory somewhere. That guy can pull his eight-hour shift, go home, take a nap, head out to dinner at a local restaurant, have a drink too many and start a fight. The restaurant manager will kick him out, or maybe even call the cops. The guy will get a Drunk and Disorderly citation, pay a fine, sleep it off, and go back to work the next day. I don’t get to do that.”

  Gigi looked incredulous. “You want to get drunk in a bar?”

  “You’re missing the point. Other people get to screw up privately. I don’t. I’m the face of a multi-billion-dollar company. I screw up, it’s all over the news. Our stock price drops, our investors’ portfolios take a hit and lose millions. The tabloids want my life to be a 24-hour party, no cares, no responsibilities. And that’s just not the case.”

  “If you’re expecting people to feel sorry for someone with billions in the bank…I mean, that’s gonna be a hard sell.”

  “Not looking for sympathy,” Damian said. “You say I’m arro
gant. Am I? Of course. It wouldn’t make sense to be otherwise.”

  “Uh, you have to be arrogant?” Gigi pursed her lips.

  “Yes. Of course, I’m arrogant. So is every NFL quarterback. So is every NBA all-star. So is every artist. So is every novelist. So is every New York Times Op-Ed writer.”

  “I don’t think I follow.”

  “Take Tom Brady. You know who Tom Brady is?”

  Gigi made a face. “Yes, I know who Tom Brady is. I prefer Cam Newton.”

  “Okay, let’s go with Cam Newton. He’s the face of an NFL franchise. He set all kinds of records as a rookie. Even been to the Super Bowl. Imagine the arrogance of a man who believes—who must believe—that he alone is qualified to lead his team to a win. That he alone can hurl a ball 50 yards downfield and land it in the hands of a receiver. Gigi, if he’s not arrogant, he’s got no goddamn business lining up behind the center.”

  Gigi suddenly felt very warm—partially from embarrassment, and partially from…arousal? Damian was indeed arrogant, but he was also right. The combination struck Gigi as strangely intoxicating.

  “And as for my mattress-dancing ways with nubile young hotties—”

  Gigi held up her hands. “I don’t really need any details, please. Thank you.”

  “Oh, but you do.”

  “No, really, I’m good. There’s no need to get clinical.”

  Damian laughed. “Clinical? It hadn’t occurred to me to get graphic.”

  “Yes, well, don’t.” Gigi gazed out the window next to her. Nothing but darkness below. Suddenly, she turned back to Damian. “What’s after New York?”

  Barbara appeared from the rear of the plane. “May I get either of you something else to drink?”

  Damian looked at Gigi and raised his eyebrows.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine,” she said curtly. Then, to Barbara: “Where are we going after New York?”

  Barbara looked at Damian, who paused, then nodded.

  “We’re scheduled to arrive at Malpensa just after noon, local time.” Barbara smiled, then turned and retreated to the rear of the plane.

  “What’s Malpensa?” she asked Damian. “An island?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s an airport.”

  “Where?”

  “Milan.”

  Gigi’s mouth dropped open. “As in Italy?!”

  Damian smiled. “Sure you don’t want another drink?”

  Chapter 8

  A Question of Direction

  “You realize, of course, I have to be at work at 9:00.” Gigi’s eyes were wide and slightly panicked.

  Damian responded nonchalantly, “No, you don’t.”

  Gigi closed her eyes and gave her head a little shake, like she was trying to wake herself from a nap. “Excuse me? What do you mean, I ‘don’t’?”

  “I phoned John and told him I needed you today and tomorrow.”

  John Underwood was her immediate supervisor at TrekTek. “You did what?!”

  Damian’s smile was on full blast. “Oh, don’t worry. He was very understanding.”

  “How does this not qualify as kidnapping?”

  “You voluntarily boarded a corporate jet at 11:00 at night. On a work night, I might add. I’m failing to see coercion here.” Damian leaned his head back. “Barbara?”

  Barbara quickly came up the aisle. “Yes, sir?”

  “Barbara, Miss Stevens has changed her mind and will have another glass of white wine.”

  Barbara smiled at Gigi and gave a polite nod. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.”

  Gigi looked stunned.

  “Please, don’t worry about your position at TrekTek. Your stock there just went way up.” A pause. “Way up. You have some negotiating power now.”

  “Oh my God, you really are arrogant.”

  “It’s not a question of arrogance, Gigi. It’s a question of facts. SXz is the biggest thing in Silicon Valley. Hell, it’s one of the biggest things, period. Your supervisor, the guy who hired you, now knows you’re on SXz’s radar. TrekTek is now taking a second look at you, re-evaluating you. Yep, your stock just went way up. Next time you ask for a raise, wanna bet you get it?”

  Barbara returned with a glass of wine and set it on the table. “Will you both be needing blankets?”

  “Yes, Barbara, thank you.” Damian turned to Gigi as Barbara disappeared. “Your seat reclines all the way back and becomes a little bed. Just use those buttons on the side there whenever you want to call it a night. Or here’s a sleeper cabin back there if you want some privacy.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Gigi picked up her wineglass and took a long sip.

  For second, Damian experienced a rare self-doubt. Have I gone to far? he thought. Is all this a bit much? Is it too overwhelming for her?

  “I can have the pilot turn us around,” he said quietly. “You’ll be safe in your bed by 3:00 a.m.”

  Gigi looked at him. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then shut it. Her expression was inscrutable, and Damian suddenly wished he was telepathic.

  “It’d be no problem,” he prompted.

  “No, no,” Gigi said, finally. “No. I’m good.” She took another sip of her wine. “This is right where I want to be.”

  Chapter 9

  Perchance to Dream

  Gigi slept beneath a large, fluffy comforter. Outside the window by her head, the earth slowly turned on its axis.

  Damian watched her sleep. You didn’t even take off your glasses, he thought. You never let down your guard around me, not even when asleep.

  He watched her for a long time, studying her face and wondering why it had the ability to draw him out of himself.

  Damian, you’re fucking up, dude. You hardly know this girl and you’re opening up like a guest on Oprah. What’s next? Tears? For God’s sake, act like you got a pair.

  Try as he might, though, he couldn’t deny the immediate rapport with Gigi. It was like he’d known her a long time ago and had just reconnected. Strange. Damian was generally distrustful of all feelings except those pertaining to business. His gut had saved him from innumerable business catastrophes; his sixth sense for such things was well-known—and feared—in the tech world. In the tabloids, he was the very embodiment of ‘bro culture’: the fun-loving frat boy who never really grew up. But in the boardroom, his ferocity in negotiating deals was legendary, and talked about in hushed tones connoting both fear and reverence.

  You’re worried about the other girls, Gigi. That alone makes you unique.

  She was right, of course. He’d lost count of the women he’d taken to bed and found nothing memorable in any of them. Seeing with his own eyes Gigi’s annoyance about the succession of starlets made him realize for the first time that none of the starlets and pop singers had voiced similar concerns.

  He’d meant nothing to them and they’d meant nothing to him. The sex had been transactional, each party aware of gaining a little something in the Celebrity Reputation Department. And truth be told, Damian had always been content with that. He wanted nothing serious. Serious doesn’t last, he told himself, because nothing lasts. Why fall in love? The only result will be pain. Keep it superficial, keep it strings-free. Show the girls a good time and send them on their way.

  But with Gigi…

  You’re being stupid, he thought. Stupid. You’re exposing too much.

  Damian found this last thought amusing. Considering how many times you’ve exposed your jumbo wanger to women you barely knew, it’s hilarious you’re now worried about exposing too much to Gigi.

  His jumbo wanger was one thing, he knew; his very heart was another. Ain’t nobody getting’ that.

  Gigi stirred slightly and gave a soft moan.

  She’s dreaming, he thought.

  He studied her face more intently. What are you dreaming about, Miss Gigi Stevens?

  The barn door slid open and her father was standing there, his left hand gripping Nefima’s bridle. The horse was blinding white and beautiful, an Arab
ian in her prime.

  “Can I ride her, Daddy?”

  “Not today, Georgina, I just need to get her back in her stall. It’s clean now. Maybe next time we can ask the Shulers if it’s okay for you to take a little ride.”

  Georgina started to cry, her tears leaving pathways in the grime on her cheeks.

  “Come on, baby, don’t cry. Let Daddy get Nefima back in her stall and we’ll go. Maybe someday we’ll have horses, too, and maybe we’ll be the ones paying others to clean their stalls.”

  As her father walked past with the horse, he gently placed his calloused hand on her tiny head and gave a playful squeeze.

  The plane hit a pocket of turbulence and bucked.

  Gigi’s eyes snapped open behind her glasses. She was looking at the ceiling of the plane. Groggily, she squinted out the window and slowly sat up.

  Staring at her, serenely, was Damian. He said, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

  “Morning? How long was I out?”

  “You dozed right through the stop in New York. We’re somewhere over the Atlantic now. Dawn should be along any minute now.”

  “Who’s she?”

  Damian laughed. “You’re still a little groggy. ‘Dawn’ as in ‘the break of day.’ Not ‘Dawn’ as in ‘a hottie I once dated.’”

  Gigi pulled the glasses from her face and rubbed her eyes. “You’ll forgive me for making the assumption.”

  “I’m feeling magnanimous. I’ll forgive you.”

  Gigi glanced out the window, then turned to Damian and fixed him with a serious look. “You realize this is all for nothing, right?”

  “No, I can’t say I realize that at all. What do you mean?”

  “I don’t have a passport with me. Since you never told me we were leaving the country, it naturally didn’t occur to me to bring one along for the ride. We’re gonna get to that airport, Malpinky or whatever you called it, and they’re gonna turn me around and make me get right back on this plane. No way they’re gonna let me into the country.”