Chapter 19
A ll week, I’ve had preliminary virtual meetings with members of Harris Ventures. Adam is serious about helping me. I’ve learned more about the companies they’ve invested in and where those companies need PR support. It’s exciting to learn about new industries like PropTech and logistics.
My phone dings, and I check it.
Adam Harris
Dinner tonight?
Dani Sommer
Where?
Adam Harris
La Nonna?
Of course, he wants to go to the most expensive restaurant in the area. It’ll be our first official date, and the thought brings a smile to my face.
Dani Sommer
What time are you picking me up?
Adam Harris
How about a drink at my place first? That way, your car will be there in the morning, so you can leave me at your convenience.
Dani Sommer
So presumptuous … assuming I’ll be staying over.
Adam Harris
Whatever you want. Let me know.
I haven’t even known this guy for a week. Are we moving too fast? He’s supposed to be my summer fling, right? But I love that he’s helping me grow my client list—it’s amazing, but it also feels like it could get complicated. It will get complicated if we keep mixing business and pleasure.
Dani Sommer
I’ll meet you at the cottage. 6:00 p.m.?
Adam Harris
Perfect.
I’m surprised to see a black Tesla SUV in the cottage’s driveway. Another car? Who’s here? As I step inside, I hear Adam’s voice coming from the patio. My footsteps halt as an all-too-familiar figure comes into view.
Declan fucking Kruk!
The shock of seeing Declan after five years—and now in my aunt’s cottage with Adam—is impossible to hide. Why is Sorin’s younger brother here? Is this because of Adam punching Sorin? My mind races as Declan and I make eye contact.
His blond hair no longer has Sons of Anarchy vibes. It’s cut short on the sides and longer on top. I glance at his tatted hands, neck, and arms. He’s looking too much like Sorin these days.
“Dani!” Adam greets, standing up from the oversized lounger. He plants a small kiss on my lips, and I’m too stunned to kiss back, my mind racing with memories and questions.
Declan’s transformation since 2017 is stark, but those big blue eyes still look at me the same way.
He sits there, a man in his early thirties who looks like he stepped off the golf course—a collared shirt.
You’d never guess he’s connected to the Polish mafia.
I wonder if Adam knows that. Is this a friendly visit, or is there something more going on?
I scream internally, What are you doing here? Then I remember—Declan is part of the elite circles around here now. He’s cosplaying as Waspy and the new owner of a Geneva Lake mansion, which made headlines for breaking the local real estate price record—forty million fucking dollars.
Adam glances between us. “You two know each other?” His tone is surprised, to say the least. I could ask him the same thing. They’re both in the investing world—rich people know rich people—so I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that they are familiar with each other.
I want to say, “That’s Sorin’s brother,” but I hesitate.
Declan’s face is a matrix of emotion. “Surprised to see you,” he finally says.
“I’m here for the summer.”
“Sounds familiar,” he deadpans.
The memories of my summer with Sorin flood back, and I excuse myself to the bathroom.
Staring at my reflection, I think about the hard drive of Bitcoin Declan gave me.
The last time I saw him, he hinted that he’d broken Sorin’s legs for hurting me.
Then my mind flashes to all the photos I sent him in Italy. Cringe.
He never responded, but I kept sending photos as a way of saying thank you—for the good time I had with the extra Bitcoin money. I still regret sending him that one sexy photo. I cringe again, gripping the sink.
I’ve been lurking at his life for years.
It’s easy when he’s always in the news. Declan is the face of crypto investing, owning a trading platform headquartered in Chicago.
He’s doing exactly what he said he would.
At this point, I’m sure he’s cleaned all his family’s dirty money through crypto.
With Bitcoin skyrocketing and his platform being an industry leader, he’s had to have made ungodly amounts of legitimate money too.
Or so I assume, given how public of a figure he is now.
Why did he give me twenty-one Bitcoin? It came with a birthday card, but there’s no way it was just a birthday gift—it was too much money.
In September 2017, I cashed out ten coins for nearly forty thousand dollars.
Well, it was a lot less after the Bitcoin ATM fees.
When I got back to Chicago, I converted the rest to cash.
After all the fees, it was a little over a hundred grand.
If only I’d known how high crypto would go last year—I’d be a multimillionaire.
Even with crypto tanking now, those twenty-one coins would still be worth over six hundred thousand dollars. Instead, I have nothing.
A light knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Everything okay?” Adam asks.
“Yeah, one sec,” I manage, my heart still racing. Why is Declan here? Why have the only two blonds who’ve ever made my heart race reappeared? Why is the universe dragging back ghosts from the summer of 2017? I take a few more deep breaths before rejoining the guys on the patio.
Sitting next to Adam, he puts his arm around me. Did Declan just clench his jaw? My mind replays him saying, “You’re with the wrong brother.” He could’ve responded to any of my texts. It can’t be jealousy, right? That would be insane.
“Can I get you something?” Adam whispers in my ear. I notice he’s drinking whiskey on the rocks while Declan has a glass of water in front of him.
Was Declan really so serious about “I only fuck sober”? A line that has plagued me since he said it five years ago. Like, if only I had been sober, he would have … What? Slept with me? Asked me to be his girlfriend? It’s all so ridiculous.
“Wine.” I squeeze Adam’s thigh, stuffing down the flood of emotions I’m experiencing.
Knowing we have only a few moments alone, I ask what’s most on my mind. “Are you here because of what happened with Sorin the other day?”
Declan tenses, his rage palpable. “What did he do?” he growls.
“He …” I pause, surprised by his reaction. I guess the last time I told Declan about Sorin, he … I don’t even want to think about it. “He confronted me at a coffee shop.”
“What did he do?” he asks again, protectively.
“Called me a whore,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Then, Adam punched him.”
Declan’s face hardens, then softens. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it.”
“That sounds familiar.” I nervously laugh. “What are you going to do, break his legs again?”
A small smirk appears on his face before it goes back to its intense, perfect bone structure, hard to read position. He holds intense eye contact with me. “You were killing it in Chicago. I’m surprised to see you here.”
Was he keeping tabs on me? I wonder, but I am too overwhelmed to respond.
“What are you doing with Adam Harris?” he boldly asks, his tone disapproving. I can’t tell if he’s intentionally trying to be an asshole right now.
I want to be sassy, but what’s the point? I don’t owe Declan anything. “I don’t know. I just met him.”
He shakes his head, his face stressed, dismayed … and sad? I don’t know what to make of that.
“You don’t approve of me having a casual fucking fling? I didn’t know I needed your permission.”
He scoffs. “Sounds familiar, Dani. You think because Adam’s high-profile, he’s any different from Sorin?”
“Excuse me?” I say, a bit too loud. Then, whispering, “He’d never hurt me—for starters.”
Declan gives me a cold, emotionless look. “Why are you living at home again?” he asks, putting so much intensity on again.
This fucking guy. “Why are you keeping tabs on me?”
Adam rejoins us on the patio. Truly, the worst timing.
“Small towns,” Declan deflects. “It’s no secret you’re living at home.”
Adam sits beside me, flashing me a puzzled look.
“Bet you didn’t know Sorin and Declan are brothers,” I say immaturely.
“Half,” Declan says, clearly annoyed. “I’m surprised to hear you’re throwing fists so publicly,” he adds with a light laugh, leaning back in his chair. He grabs his water, and I notice his crow tattoo on his wrist is gone—the one that used to signify his affiliation with the Polish mafia.
Maybe he’s not in the mafia anymore? Is that even possible?
“Wasn’t my best moment,” Adam says. “But now that I know more, I’m glad I did it.”
“I know how you feel,” Declan says, exchanging a knowing glance with me.
I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Too many memories are flooding back. I haven’t thought about the scar Sorin gave me in a while, but now I feel a phantom pain on my hip where he carved the letter S .
It looks like Declan and I both invested in lasering away the past—his crow tattoo is gone, and so is my scar. But the memories, unfortunately, are forever.
Adam kisses my temple. His affection is sweet, but it makes me feel awkward in front of Declan. A nervous laugh escapes me. How did I end up in this situation?
Both guys look at me, probably thinking I’m deranged, before Declan says, “I’ll get going. Will I see you at Kent’s birthday party next month?”
“Roaring Twenties,” Adam laughs. “I think the old man’s running out of ideas. We’ll see you there.”
The use of “we” sends my stress through the roof. Adam has no idea that I’ve been to Kent Dubois’ annual birthday party before, that it was the night Declan made a move on me, or that I used to be friends with Kent’s son, Brandon. Or that I wasn’t remotely sober back then.
This is why being home was a bad idea. Too many triggers. Too many reminders of the last summer I spent here.