Chapter 20
D ani and I sit in a quiet embrace on the lounger overlooking Geneva Lake through the trees and the wide patio windows. Her heart isn’t relaxed, and her breathing is strained.
“Did you and Declan—” I hesitate. Have they hooked up? There was an undeniable vibe. Declan is always so private about his personal life, not to mention annoyingly sober.
For all the time I’ve known Declan, he’s never mentioned having a brother. I still can’t believe Sorin, of all people, is related to him. Is Dani why he was so bullish on the Shirts investment?
“It’s a really long story,” she says softly. “But no, we’ve never hooked up, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I’m too relieved to hear that. “So you know, I consider Declan a friend, and I’ve got over fifty million invested in his Cryptoball trading platform.”
Dani’s big hazel eyes meet mine. She looks like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
We’ve only known each other for six days. If things get serious, we’ll unpack more later. It’s too soon to dive into our pasts.
“How about dinner?” I ask, smiling as I help her up from the lounger. Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper, “By the way, you look incredible tonight.” I give her a tight squeeze.
Her light makeup enhances her eyes, framed by her long, bone-straight brown hair. This is the first time I’ve seen her with a bit of eyeliner, and the green in her eyes stand out. Her strapless sundress hits right above the knee, making me want to slide my hand up her legs.
“So … Kent’s birthday party. Declan wasn’t kidding about this area being a small town. I used to be friends with Brandon Dubois.”
“His son? Oh?” I release my arms, stepping back to see her face. Brandon Dubois—the quintessential rich kid prototype. “Kent’s been a business mentor to me for years,” I say, sharing the connection.
Our lives seem so intertwined. The word fate slips into my thoughts again.
“It’s part of that long story I’ll tell you later.”
I’ve heard all about Brandon’s struggles with addiction over the years. Addiction … Dani and cocaine. I’m starting to piece it together.
“Were you friends with him while he was using?”
“Yeah, and Sorin was his dealer—” She pauses. “I hate talking about that time in my life.”
“Okay,” I say, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “We can save it for another time.”
We walk in silence, hand in hand, to the Porsche. I open the door for her, hoping to lighten the mood.
“We’ll have a great dinner. I’ll probably get pasta sauce all over my shirt, and you can make fun of me.”