Acquaintances (A Mafia Romance)

Twenty-one.

Whoever had infiltrated his network knew exactly what they were doing, masking their trail with layers of encryption that Marco had spent hours untangling. But he was close now—he could feel it. His pulse quickened as he zeroed in on a small cluster of data packets that seemed out of place, hidden under layers of proxies and fake IP addresses.

Then, suddenly, the encryption fell away, revealing the hidden code underneath. Marco froze.

A trace. Just a faint sliver of information, but it was enough—a digital fingerprint left behind by the intruder. It was buried deep, almost undetectable, but Marco's trained eyes caught it. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly ran a series of commands to track the source, reverse-engineering the route the hacker had taken. He kept pushing, kept digging, until finally... there it was. A break in the code. A tiny slip-up that led him back to the source. And that's when he saw it—clear as day.

US_FederalBureauInvestigation.ext

The letters blinked on his screen like a warning, bright and bold against the darkness of the digital landscape. Marco's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the screen, trying to process what he was seeing. The FBI? Why the hell would they be hacking him?

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Frantically, Marco's mind raced through the options. He couldn't let this breach jeopardize everything his family had built, not just digitally but in the tangible world too. Swiftly, he yanked out the hard drives connected to his system, the physical embodiment of his digital life.

The fear of repercussions gnawed at him as he clutched the hard drives in his hands. Panic set in, and Marco surveyed his office frantically for a way to dispose of the damning evidence. He couldn't leave the office; too many people would see him, ask questions. His eyes fell on the trash bin—the solution to his immediate dilemma.

With a calculated urgency, Marco tossed the hard drives into the bin, along with a bit of leftover whiskey from a glass nearby. The amber liquid acted as an accelerant, heightening the flames that now licked at the digital remnants of Marco's life. In that small, controlled fire, he hoped to erase any traces of the breach without triggering the dreaded sprinkler system.

In the confined space, a crucible for his secrets, Marco chose to wait, watching the flames engage in a silent ceremony of destruction. The weight of his actions sank in as he observed, contemplating the tangible remnants of his digital life being consumed by the fire. Each flicker of the flames mirrored the turmoil within his mind, a poignant effort to salvage his world from the encroaching shadows.

Shit, what about dad? Should he know? No, he'd be even more upset—god knows what would happen, what he would do...

Why is the FBI targeting me now? Was it Frank? Shit, did I forget to turn off geo-tagging? No...I'm certain I covered everything. As Marco's mind raced through these concerns, a sudden realization struck.

Wait, what time is it?

Marco's eyes darted to his phone; he flipped it over, the screen still displaying the message thread with Rebecca. He hesitated for a moment, rereading his last text to her—it was cold. Did she deserve that? Should he apologize to her?

Maybe she's in on it?

Maybe not?

In the shadows of suspicion, Marco found himself questioning everything. His heart pounded in sync with the chaos around him as he checked the time. Nearly midnight. Hesitation gnawed at him, but the need to mend what he had recklessly torn apart propelled him forward. With a deep breath, Marco dialed Rebecca's number.

The continued ringing of the phone echoed through the room, creating a rhythmic pulse that mirrored Marco's internal struggle.

Wait—why the hell did I call her?  She's probably asleep. Shit, I could've texted.

Just as he was about to end the call, the abrupt cessation of the ringing caught him off guard. Rebecca's voice, a comforting lifeline, pulled him from the edge of uncertainty.

"Hey...," he began, his tone carrying the weight of remorse.

A smile played on his lips as Rebecca pointed out, "I take it you weren't expecting me to answer."

"Yeah, my bad, it's late," he chuckled, the sound blending with the night's symphony. "Lost track of time, planned to text instead, but you beat me to it."

"Okay, now I'm intrigued. What's going on?"

Marco hesitated, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "It's...." He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Actually, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about my texts earlier. It was a stressful moment, and honestly... everything pointed to you."

Her quick response caught him off guard. "I would've done the same. But hey, the apology is nice. It's been a while since I've heard one."

Her voice cut through his thoughts, soft but laced with concern. "Did you find out who did it?"

Marco hesitated. The FBI connection was already weighing on him, and he wasn't sure if revealing that would help or just hinder his family. He shifted in his seat, glancing at the destroyed remains of his old system.

"Not exactly," he admitted carefully. "Still digging. Once I get my new setup going tomorrow, I'll see what I can find."

There was a pause before Rebecca spoke again, this time with a mix of curiosity and playfulness. "You know, I can help if you need. Might be able to stir things up through a few connections."

He appreciated the offer but was reluctant to bring anyone else into it. "I've got it under control," he said, trying to sound confident. "It's technical mumbo-jumbo, pretty straightforward... just need time."

Rebecca let out a soft chuckle, catching him off guard. "You don't really think I'm offering this just as a favor, do you? After those Everclear shots tonight—and the drinks from yesterday? This is me paying you back. I'm not hanging out with you just for the free drinks!"

He couldn't help but smile, the tension between them lifting. "And here I thought I was just being used."

"I always settle my debts," she teased, her tone playful. "Brunch on me tomorrow?"

"You sure you want to get mixed up in this?" he asked, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I don't want to drag you into any more trouble."

"Trouble? Please, I know you Googled me," she teased, though he could hear a hint of sincerity behind her playful tone. "Besides, what else am I going to do with my spare time? Mop the fucking walls?"

He chuckled, but a weight lingered in his chest. "Okay, brunch it is," he said, forcing himself to relax. The thought of spending more time with her excited him, but it was overshadowed by the deeper, gnawing uncertainty that clung to him.

"Hey, umm..."

"Yeah?"

"Look, just so we're clear," he began, his voice low, "I honestly don't know what this thing between us really is. I don't know if it's because... Well, what I'm trying to say is, I'll always prioritize my family first, Rebecca. It's nothing personal—just a precaution."

The weight of his words felt heavy, a reminder of the complexity that lay between them.

"Its the reason why you really called, right?" Rebecca replied, her voice faltering slightly as she searched for the right words. "To warn me about the inevitable."

"Not entirely true, but yeah."

"Seems fair," She took a breath, struggling to steady herself. "So, I'll see you in the AM?" Her voice wavered, but she held on, trying to regain her composure.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

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