Chapter 2
TWO
BASH
I was supposed to be climbing Mount Kinabalu this week.
I’d been prepared for some physical discomfort, for long days navigating unfamiliar terrain and communicating in a foreign language, but I relished the challenge and unpredictability of extreme adventures. Climbing icy peaks, diving out of airplanes, and rafting turbulent rivers pared a person’s existence down to their most important qualities: intelligence, courage, strength of will. That was what made them fun.
Then I’d made the mistake of answering my mother’s phone call.
One brief convo later— “Sebastian, darling, the Dayne family has donated hundreds of thousands to the Coalition for Children over the years. Your father and I are in the South of France and can’t possibly attend, but it wouldn’t do for us to snub the organization at their largest annual fundraiser. Can’t your trip wait?”— my expedition to Borneo had somehow morphed into a world-class guilt trip.
Oh, there was still physical discomfort, alright, but in the form of a stuffy tuxedo. And there were communication challenges, too, like explaining (repeatedly) that I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, an amazing new investment opportunity, or to get anyone’s kid a job at Sterling Chase just because I happened to sit on the board of directors. My existence had been pared down to what was most important in this world: my bank balance and my connections… and it was the opposite of fun.
In fact, this gala was a fun wasteland, where everything was black and white, cold and flat, and nothing new or exciting ever happened.
As I stood in a small alcove off to the side of the MoMA’s elegant reception room, trying to coax my brain cells back to life after a mind-numbing conversation with Constance Baxter-Hicks about her topiary garden, her eligible, gay nephew Patrick, how much Patrick loved topiaries, and how desperately she’d like us to grow topiaries together , I decided I’d reached the upper limit of my boredom tolerance. Since I wasn’t leaving for Borneo, better to get some rest so I could focus on work in the morning.
I’d only taken a single step for the door when a man sailed across the polished floor directly in front of my hidden alcove, arms windmilling wildly. His face—snub-nosed and freckled and sort of weirdly… angelic —was frozen in terror until he managed to grab a support column like a drowning sailor grabbing a life preserver and swing himself into the shadows directly in front of me, where he landed on his feet.
Well. This was different.
“Good. Fucking. Fuck ,” the man said succinctly and a bit breathlessly, bending over at the waist to catch his breath.
I resisted the sudden urge to laugh out loud. For someone who looked like he’d walked out of a Botticelli painting, he had a hell of a mouth on him… and the curve of the ass he was inadvertently displaying in his black pants wasn’t bad, either.
“Impressive dismount,” I said mildly, startling the angel into jumping nearly a foot. “But I’m afraid you’re going to need to find your own potted plant to hide behind. This one’s taken.”
He gasped and spun toward me, and his face morphed into an expression not unlike a disgruntled kitten—adorable and cranky.
“You saw nothing ,” he informed me with a glare. “Now back off—uh…” He hesitated as he belatedly looked me up and down, then from shoulder to shoulder. His eyes widened, and he wet his lips, seemingly unconsciously. “…please?”
A knot of anticipation coiled in my gut.
A stray curl chose that precise moment to flop directly in the center of his forehead, and I bit my cheek, torn between amusement and a burning desire to pull the man against me—
Whoa. No. Bad Sebastian.
Clearly, I’d had too much champagne because I did not hook up with strangers I met at fundraising galas. In fact, I’d rarely hooked up with anyone at all recently, and for very good reason.
But even knowing all that, I couldn’t stop myself from returning the man’s up-down look with a slow, appreciative appraisal of my own. Shiny brown curls, doe eyes, plush lips, fair skin. His tux was a size too big, but I could still see hints of the toned body it hid. And for the first time in a while, I felt a pulse of desire and challenge that reminded me a lot of the feeling I got when I prepared to scuba dive into a Mexican cenote or paraglide off a Turkish mountain.
Yes, this evening had definitely gotten considerably more interesting.
Still staring at me, the man swallowed and made a strangled noise, then swallowed some more, like he was experiencing a powerful reaction as well. Either that or going into anaphylactic shock.
“You alright?” I asked, concerned.
“Me? Oh, ha! No. Yes. No .” He clapped a hand to his mouth and stared at me in horror, like the words had babbled out against his will.
Curiouser and curiouser.
My lips twitched. “Enlightening. Thank you. Blink twice if whatever you have is life-threatening, three times if it’s contagious, Mr.…” Belatedly, I glanced down to read his name tag and froze. “Wait. Sterling Chase?” I lifted an eyebrow. “You work there?”
That idea doused the flames of attraction in an instant.
Sterling Chase was my company. My baby.
It had begun as a way for me and my four closest friends to market the software we’d come up with our senior year at Yale—the Emergency Traffic Control software—but had grown into a billion-dollar startup incubator that helped other technology developers bring their big ideas to market. It was the place where I spent most of my time and all of my energy.
If this delectable stranger worked for Sterling Chase, that made him utterly off-limits. But… I couldn’t imagine how I could have failed to notice this man if he worked for me. He was nothing if not memorable.
Emotions flitted across his expressive face as he wrestled with the answer to what should have been a yes or no question. Fear. Nausea. Determination. He straightened his spine.
“ Work there?” The man chuckled with excessive enthusiasm. “Ha! Do I work at Sterling Chase? No, my good man. No, indeed. I own the company.” He tapped his name badge proudly. “I… I am Sterling Chase.”
I blinked in disbelief. Beneath the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks like a kaleidoscope of tiny butterflies, a blush of color crept across his face. A kind of nervous, excited, defiant energy rolled off him in waves… and no wonder. This Not-Sterling person was an angel-faced, sexy-as-fuck, lying liar . And he wasn’t even attempting to be subtle about it.
Despite rumors to the contrary, there was no Sterling Chase. Not a human one anyway. In fact, as only maybe five other people on the planet knew, my friends and I had named the company after their college pets: Silas’s iguana, Chase, and Zane’s ridiculously hairy, pain-in-the-ass Peruvian guinea pig, Sterling.
But even as I stared at the man, waiting for him to back down or equivocate, Not-Sterling set his jaw, threw his shoulders back so forcefully his shirt buttons would have popped if the garment had fit properly, and attempted to look down his nose at me—no mean feat since I was six foot one, and he was at least six inches shorter.
Logic said I should contact security about this man immediately. But a fun-starved corner of my brain reminded me that it had been a hell of a long time since I’d been so intrigued by anything—not by a scientific breakthrough, or an extreme adventure, or the men who occasionally warmed my bed. So when that part of me whispered that I should fuck with the man instead, I listened.
“Sterling Chase.” I gave him a broad smile. “I must say, you’re not at all how I pictured you.”
“I bet.” He coughed lightly. “I mean… I bet you imagined Sterling Chase was old and crotchety?” He nodded to himself. “And you probably thought since Sterling had more money than god, he’d be all high-and-mighty, too, but no. Sterling Chase is down-to-earth. One might even say… quirky. You know, the sort of billionaire who smells like corn chips on purpose.”
Dear god.
I ran a hand over my mouth to hide the smile I couldn’t restrain. “And I imagine talking about yourself in the third person is part of the quirkiness?”
“Er.” His blush deepened, and he stuck a finger in his collar like his tie was suddenly tight. “Yes. Exactly.”
My gaze narrowed on his collar and on the tie that ringed it. I leaned closer for a better look, inhaling the clean, soapy smell of him. “Pardon me, but are those… bunnies? That’s very quirky indeed.”
He clapped a hand to his throat, hiding his tie, and his face went even redder. “Er. Yes. Well. In fact, they’re, ah, Playboy bunnies. You know, as in… Hugh ?” He made it sound like he was name-dropping a close personal friend… who nobody had notified him died years ago. “They’re on my socks also. Always match your socks to your tie, my grandfather used to say.”
We both simultaneously looked down at his feet, where red-and-green Christmas socks protruded from his oxfords.
“I mean…” he stammered. “I mean, match your underwear to your bow tie.”
“Your grandfather taught you to match your underwear to your bow tie,” I repeated blandly. “How avant-garde. Was he a dancer, perhaps?”
Not-Sterling looked vaguely panicked… then captivatingly confused. But when any sane man would have shut his mouth, this man kept babbling himself into a deeper pit. “Uh. Yes. I believe he did foxtrot from time to time. Before the war.”
“Fascinating,” I said, shocked to find I meant it, not about his dancing grandfather but about the man himself.
Who was this guy with his strange babble, and his lies, and his overwhelming air of innocence?
All I knew was that when he darted a glance around the small space like he was planning his escape, I was determined to keep him talking.
“Well, Sterling.” I stuck out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Bash . It’s lovely to meet you in person at last.”
Not-Sterling frowned. “Bash.”
“Your new personal assistant, of course. We’ve been communicating by email for weeks. Don’t you remem— Ah!” I wagged a playful finger at him. “I see what’s happening here. You’re teasing, aren’t you?”
My lying angel’s eyes went nearly as wide and panicked as when he’d sailed across the floor. “I… yes,” he agreed faintly. “Ha! You caught me… Bash. Erm. Lovely to meet you in person.”
He put his smaller hand in mine, and I gripped it tightly, my skin tingling at the warmth of him. Not-Sterling’s breath caught.
“I must say, I didn’t expect to meet you here tonight,” I went on without releasing his hand. “You tend to avoid social gatherings. And I thought you were hiking Mount Kinabalu this week.”
“Did you?” His eyes darted around the small space like a cornered animal, his voice so strangled I worried he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
“Wasn’t that what your last email said?” I blinked at him innocently. “Two weeks in Borneo, during which you’d be out of communication? Did you decide to skip the last portion of the trip? Did something happen?”
He nodded slightly and then squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His pulse fluttered frantically against my fingers. For a moment, I was certain he was going to drop the pretense and confess that he wasn’t who he’d claimed to be… but I was wrong.
“Yes, I… I’m afraid I can’t talk about the trip, Bash. It’s too, ah… too fresh. Too painful.” He shook his head sadly. “Another of my quirky billionaire eccentricities. You understand.”
Quirky billionaire eccentricities. This was going to be good.
“I’m your assistant, Mr. Chase,” I said in a low tone, still holding him in place. “You can tell me anything.”
“Oh.” He leaned toward me like he was imparting a secret. I couldn’t help but lean in also. “You see… I lost my true love on the side of Mount Kinababloo.” He sighed gustily. “Poor Bubbles. I really… can’t speak of it any more.”
I shook my head. This man was a liar—an unrepentant liar—and I should have been— was —disgusted. I knew better than anyone on the planet that money attracted con artists, cheats, and opportunists the way nectar attracted bees, and I hated that kind of manipulation.
But Jesus, there was something about this man—maybe how innocently and poorly and entertainingly he lied—that got past my defenses. He was doing an impersonation of a rich person that should have been incredibly insulting but somehow managed to be endearing. And he made me want to see what he came up with next.
“How very tragic—” I began when a deep voice behind me called my name.
“Bash?”
I whipped my head around in surprise to find my friend Silas ducking around the potted plant. He froze in place when he saw that I wasn’t alone and raised a single dark eyebrow at me when he saw Not-Sterling’s hand in mine.
Shit.
I hadn’t expected Silas to attend tonight. He wasn’t based in New York, and though he still served on the board of directors at Sterling Chase, he was also a sought-after business strategist who spent most of his time traveling around the world consulting with Fortune 500 companies and governmental agencies. Ordinarily, seeing one of my best friends would have been cause for celebration. At the moment, however, I was tempted to ask him to turn right the fuck around.
Silas was sensible. Calm. Rational. And I wasn’t being any of those things at the moment.
“Am I interrupting something?” Silas asked. His voice was mild, but the accompanying look he gave me spoke volumes… most of it in italics with exclamation points.
“Of course not, Mr. Concannon. ” I widened my eyes meaningfully. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight. Are you enjoying your evening, sir?”
Silas’s head tilted to one side, a very clear What game are we playing, Sebastian?
I smiled winningly. Go with it .
“Oh, yes, it’s been delightful,” Silas said at length. “I’m on a mission to make sure every member of the Sterling Chase board of directors in attendance shakes the hand of at least fifty millionaires for networking purposes. I’ve done my part, but you’d be shocked at how many of them hide away or find themselves otherwise distracted at these events.”
I nearly snorted. I’d been the only member of the board in attendance before Silas showed up, which meant Kenji, the personal assistant who ruled our lives, had sent Silas here to make sure I didn’t cut out early or hide away.
It was uncomfortable to be known so well.
Silas glanced at Not-Sterling’s hand in mine once again. “How’s your evening, Bash?”
“Unbelievable.” Literally . “I finally got to meet my boss after being his personal assistant for weeks and weeks.” I drew a very reluctant Not-Sterling forward a few feet, presenting him to Silas. “Sterling Chase, this is Silas Concannon. Mr. Concannon, I’m sure you remember Sterling Chase? Since you’re on the board of directors at his company?”
Silas blinked. He looked at me, then down at Not-Sterling’s name tag. At our linked hands, then Not-Sterling’s rabbit bow tie and Christmas socks. I could practically see the neurons firing in his brilliant brain as Silas assessed the situation. Then he extended a hand for Not-Sterling to shake. “No, we’ve never met in person, strangely enough.”
Not-Sterling nodded, like the idea of a company’s owner never meeting the people who served on his own board of directors didn’t faze him in the slightest.
Silas’s smile was a sharp-edged thing. “I somehow pictured you with more hair, Sterling.”
I coughed to cover my laugh, envisioning the same Peruvian guinea pig Silas was.
Not-Sterling pulled away from me so he could shake Silas’s hand, and I stuck my suddenly empty fingers in my pocket before they could reach for him again.
“Yes. Well.” Not-Sterling patted his plentiful brown curls, perhaps wondering how much more hair a human head could sustain. “I’m sure there are many incorrect rumors about Sterling Chase out there. I pay them no mind.”
“Rumors about… Sterling Chase?” Silas repeated, eyes flicking to me again. “That’s an odd way to phrase it.”
“Oh, Sterling enjoys talking about Sterling’s self in the third person,” I explained, deadpan. “It’s one of his many, as he likes to call them, ‘quirky billionaire eccentricities.’”
Silas blinked. “Well. I suppose I’ve heard of billionaires doing stranger things…” he said pointedly, and when his eyes met mine, I very clearly heard the words he’d left unsaid: “…take, for example, the two of us, doing whatever the fuck we’re doing right now.”
“Quite true.” Not-Sterling nodded imperiously. “I once heard about a European billionaire who bought a castle for his cat… which seems rather excessive when one ponders that there are people out there who’d just like an upgrade from their cousin’s lumpy futon.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning that addictive shade of pink again. “There’s also a chap in Asia, I do believe, who’s attempting to clone himself a pet dinosaur.”
“Ooof. That won’t end well,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Has he never seen Jurassic Park ?”
Not-Sterling chuckled light and low, a sound of startled, honest amusement, and answering heat flared through my body. He turned those big brown eyes up at me… but the instant his gaze met mine, he seemed to recall exactly where he was, who he was talking to, and who he was trying to impersonate. He looked away immediately.
Silas frowned at both of us… but mostly at me.
“Yes, we billionaires are a quirky lot!” Not-Sterling forced a laugh. “You should see us when we get together at our secret billionaire club.” He paused. “Um. Not that there is a secret billionaire club. Or that I could talk about it if there was.” He mimed zipping his lips and locking them tight. “First rule of secret billionaire club, you know?”
Silas nodded slowly, studiously not looking at me now.
Not-Sterling’s lies were skirting closer to the truth than he knew.
When Silas and I, along with our three best friends, had created the ETC software, we’d been excited at the possibilities of what the software could do for the world and had hoped that selling it would earn us a nice little nest egg— maybe a couple hundred thousand dollars apiece! —that we could use as seed money to build our futures.
We’d been incredibly fucking naive.
Fortunately, I’d scored a couple of mentors through my family connections who’d given us solid guidance. Create a company to bring the software to market, they’d said. Don’t list your own names as owners; instead, create individual corporations. Hide, hide, hide.
At the time, it had seemed ridiculous, expensive, and overly complicated. I’d had to front the money to pay for the lawyers who set it all up since I’d been the one with family money.
But then we’d sold the software for 7.3 billion, and all hell had broken loose.
Even though we’d kept the source of our newfound wealth a secret, money-hungry relatives had still emerged the moment they’d noticed us enjoying the fruits of our labor. Unscrupulous business advisors had wanted a piece of the action. We’d been betrayed by friends, siblings, and romantic partners. And we’d realized that the best way to protect ourselves was to keep new friends in the dark as much as possible.
According to official records, Sterling Chase had created the ETC, and Sterling Chase had profited. The five of us were technically members of Sterling Chase’s board, but this wasn’t widely known because our company had no shareholders to report to, and we made sure our photos were never posted in articles or on the company website.
I hid my wealth behind inherited family money and kept my involvement in the company mostly behind the scenes. The others—Zane, Silas, Dev, and Landry—distanced themselves from Sterling Chase almost entirely, using their money to pursue their own interests.
And no one outside the five of us—plus Kenji—had a clue just how many zeroes were at the end of our bank balances.
Secret billionaire club indeed.
“Anyway,” Not-Sterling babbled on, “when you think about it, Sterling Chase is really only… mildly quirky. Quirk- lite . In fact, the quirkiest thing about him— me— is that I, uh…” He swallowed hard and lifted his chin a fraction higher, which made his curls bob. “I like my close associates to call me Rowe.”
“Rowe,” Silas repeated thoughtfully. “Well, that’s easy enough to remember, isn’t it?” He sent me a quick flick of a glance that said he’d be reporting this information to Kenji within minutes so he could pull images from the security tapes, begin a background check… and possibly schedule me some sort of intervention if I continued conversing with this impostor.
Logically, I knew he was absolutely right. Someone needed to investigate Rowe-Not-Sterling and learn his true motives… but it wouldn’t be me because, for the moment, I was thinking with my dick.
“Indeed!” Rowe agreed. “Very easy. One syllable, four little letters. Well!” He clapped his hands together once and attempted a friendly smile. “It’s been lovely chatting with you, good sirs,” Rowe managed to choke out. “I really must dash. I need to speak to someone about a time-sensitive issue. Adieu ,” he said with a little flourish-bow and a curious British lilt.
He was outrageous. Silly. Criminal . Not at all sexy.
So why was I consumed with the desire to lick into his mouth and taste the lies on his lips?
“Perhaps we can help you locate the person you’re looking for,” I blurted. “Mr. Concannon here knows everyone.”
Silas shot me a distinctly unappreciative look.
“Er, yes…” Rowe hesitated. “I don’t suppose you know Justin Hardy?”
Hearing the name of Silas’s ex-boyfriend was like being doused with cold water. Beside me, Silas’s entire body went tense, and I struggled to keep my voice light. “Yes. I’m acquainted with him. One of your company’s biggest competitors, isn’t he?”
“Oh, that .” Rowe laughed weakly. “Much ado about nothing. Justin’s perfectly lovely. Very friendly. He built his business entirely on his own, you know. A self-made man.”
“Is he really?” Silas set his jaw. “Do you do much business with Justin?”
“Not often, no. But I do need to speak to him on a matter of business tonight. I have an idea that will suit Hardy Development perfectly,” Rowe said with an eagerness he couldn’t hide. “So… could you point me to him?”
Finally, a plausible explanation for why someone would want to masquerade as the head of my company.
Rowe was probably an app developer trying to sell Justin Hardy his revolutionary new game or convince Justin to invest in Rowe’s sinking ship of a tech company. Rowe had probably purchased a ticket in Sterling’s name or stolen one of the extra spots my company had purchased for our employees, thinking Sterling’s name would give him instant credibility.
It wasn’t unusual by any means. Just that night, I’d had people I barely knew approach me for investments and job opportunities simply because we happened to be in the same place at the same time. And I’d gotten so tired of being approached by entrepreneurs hoping I’d hear their pitches on behalf of Sterling Chase over the years I’d hired a CEO and a head of development just so I could throw my hands up and pretend I wasn’t a decision-maker in my own company.
It shouldn’t have been this disappointing to find that Rowe was a schemer like all the rest… but it was.
Stranger still, even knowing he was a liar and a schemer, the idea of him having anything to do with an asshole like Justin Hardy made red flash across my vision.
The silence stretched so long that Silas and Rowe both darted worried glances at me. Finally, Silas answered Rowe’s question himself. “I haven’t seen him. Bash, have you?”
Given how Justin Hardy had treated Silas, he was unlikely to show his treacherous face anywhere in my vicinity, let alone Silas’s.
I merely shook my head. “Not tonight.”
“Well.” My angelic liar blew out a disappointed breath and set his shoulders like he was off to fight a battle. “Thank you anyway, Bash.” He gave me a smile that was small and shy—not at all like his Sterling Chase persona, and all the more appealing for being genuine. “I’m certain we’ll be in touch. Toodaloo!”
I let him walk away, sighing as the fern snapped back into place behind him because I knew exactly what was coming in five, four, three—
“ Toodaloo ?” Silas repeated incredulously. “Bash, what the fuck did I just witness?”
“Let it go,” I said, more snappily than I’d intended.
Silas was loyal to a fault. Protective and kind. Doggedly determined. And once he’d set his sights on a goal, whether it was improving management practices at a company or buying new underwear, he didn’t stop until it was achieved.
But I didn’t want to be one of his projects.
“What are you doing in town?” I asked, a casual, not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject. “Big meeting?” I lowered my voice. “Is Landry in trouble again?”
“Probably, but that’s not why I’m here. I figured, since I was coming to town in a couple weeks for the Innovation Awards anyway, I’d just come early to see the polo match tomorrow and catch up with Dev.”
I stared at him blankly. “Polo match?”
“Honestly, Sebastian.” Silas rolled his eyes. “The second half of the charity benefit the company’s sponsoring this weekend? Someone should be there representing Sterling Chase—the company, I mean, not your new friend—and technically, Devon will be there since he’s coming up to check on some horses stabled there, but…”
“But Dev doesn’t do socialization anymore. Right.” I rubbed my forehead. “Fuck. I forgot about the polo thing.”
“And here I thought personal assistants were supposed to have strong organizational skills,” he said blandly.
I shot him a look. “I was supposed to be in Borneo climbing a mountain right now.”
“Right. And yet here you are… pretending to be the personal assistant of a fake human being who is trying to do business with my ex-boyfriend … why?”
“Because I was bored and he’s entertaining?” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but honesty compelled me to add, “There was something about him. He got under my skin.”
Silas narrowed his eyes. “More like you wanted to get under his tuxedo.”
“That, too. He’s fucking gorgeous. And I haven’t hooked up with anyone in… a long while.” Against my will, my eyes roamed the crowd over the potted fern, looking for a head of messy curls.
“He’s got a cute-and-charming thing going on, yes. But—” Silas’s voice hardened, drawing my attention back to him. “—he’s a liar , Bash. An identity thief. So whatever this fascination is, let it go. Besides, anyone who associates with Justin is bad news.”
I sighed. For the billionth time, I cursed myself for ever introducing Justin Hardy to Silas. The second my boarding school classmate had met my best friend, he’d seen Silas as prey. At the time, Silas had been working with me to negotiate a contract between Sterling Chase and a client he’d met through his own private consulting business—a contract worth millions. But Justin hadn’t hesitated to poach that client, damaging Silas’s reputation in the process.
I didn’t give a shit about the lost money in the grand scheme of things, but he’d broken Silas’s heart, and that was something I would never forgive.
“I hear you.” I clapped Silas on the shoulder. “Just remember, Rowe isn’t Justin, okay? There’s no reason to believe they’re conspiring simply because Rowe mentioned his name. And if he was working with Justin, he’d know better than to tip us off.”
Silas nodded unhappily.
“But Silas, even if they are in cahoots, it doesn’t matter. No one is getting near the company.” Not again . “I promise.”
Silas gave me a look that said I was missing the point entirely. “I’m not worried about the business, Bash. There are other ways you can be hurt.”
“Like, he’s gonna break my heart?” I snorted. “You remember who you’re talking to, right? When was the last time I had a serious relationship?”
Silas opened his mouth, then shut it again because the answer was never . I had learned from my friends’ mistakes. There was no way to tell who wanted you for you and who wanted you for your wealth and connections. It was easier to stay away from even having to make that determination.
“Exactly. I am married to Sterling Chase—the business, not my new friend.” I winked, and Silas snorted. “So stop worrying. I’m not falling for the guy. I’m only having fun.”
“Sebastian.” Silas blew out a long-suffering breath and muttered, “I’d be less worried if your idea of fun didn’t so often align with wild adventures that could nearly kill you.” He shook his head and groaned. “You’re going to talk to him again, aren’t you?”
My gaze had somehow found its way back to the curly head and those big brown eyes, which were now wide with fresh panic at something Constance Baxter-Hicks was saying. I wondered what topiary-related information the woman was imparting that made the man so terrified.
I wondered why the world’s worst liar had thought putting on the world’s worst-fitting tux (complete with bunny tie), sneaking into an event like this, and pretending to be someone who didn’t exist was the best way to advance his business idea.
I wondered if the interest I’d seen flash in those pretty eyes was all part of his act.
I wondered who Rowe really was… and what he really wanted.
And I kinda wanted to hear him lie to me some more.
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed, my eyes still fixed on the man who’d crash-landed into my hiding spot, filling the black-and-white evening with glorious color. “In fact, I’m thinking Sterling Chase might enjoy some polo.”