Chapter 74
Seeing Declan’s black Tesla SUV outside my apartment, I mutter, “This is such a bad fucking idea.” Throwing my weekender over my shoulder and walking down the stairs, I ask myself, Why did I agree to this?
Declan and I are barely able to exchange a few sentences without getting riled up.
Now, I’m spending two hours alone with him in a car.
It’s tempting to text Gideon to let him know I’m leaving town, but I don’t.
This break, however complicated, feels necessary.
I miss him, though, and his voice is also in my head.
I’m scared something might happen between Declan and me …
I don’t want to lose Gideon. “Why Choose” isn’t real life. I can’t have all of them.
Declan pops the trunk, and I throw my bag in, then get into the passenger seat. He looks tired, yet incredible. I hate how hot he is, especially in a black suit.
“You got a fresh haircut for this?” I tease, noticing how Declan’s blond hair is nearly a buzz cut. It’s all the same length, versus the sides being shorter. “Long hair is a better look for you,” I taunt and literally could kill myself. “What do you want to listen to?” I ask, quickly pivoting.
“Well … I’d rather spend this time talking—actually getting to know you.”
Agh! “Two hours is a lot of time to talk.”
His blue eyes lock with mine as a smile grows on his face. Then, Declan pulls out of the parking space, driving toward the highway. “We’ve never really talked,” he says softly.
“Probably for the best.” I chuckle, and he huffs a laugh in response. “But I’m happy we talked …” I trail off, thinking about the phone call when he told me Sorin had passed.
“Me too. I think we should keep talking.”
Looking out the window, I consider how we know too much about each other for small talk. So, I ask him the biggest question I have. “Tell me why you’re so fucking sober.”
He playfully bobs his head a couple of times, maybe thinking about how long of a story he wants this to be. “Let’s get into it.” He smiles, and I’m still getting used to him smiling at me.
Annoyance, disdain, concern, intrigue … These are the faces I’m most familiar with.
“I grew up in a family that sold drugs and did all kinds of fringe business activities.”
“I’m very aware of what the Crows do.”
As we merge onto the highway, he taps a couple of buttons and then leans back, taking his hands off the wheel.
“How fancy,” I chide at the self-driving features.
Annoyance. There it is all over his face. I laugh internally.
“The first time I got drunk, I was twelve.”
Woof. That is young. “Twelve was a shit year for me too,” I share.
His hand moves, but then he stops, and I’m grateful he isn’t touching me. Then, he continues, “The first time I got high, I was thirteen. By fourteen, I was regularly doing coke on the weekends. At fifteen, I was an addict doing whatever I could get my hands on.”
That sounds like my dad … but less accelerated.
“Some kids get a car for their sixteenth birthday. I got rehab.”
“Just as expensive.”
“Is this going to be the whole car ride? You riding my dick?”
“You wish.” I scoff, looking out the window, not wanting to see his reaction. “You’re getting the full Dani experience today,” I say, watching the skyline pass by. “I’ve been sober for the last five days …”
“Nice,” he says, tone flat.
I was expecting a little more fanfare from the guy who’s always telling me that I should be sober.
“Where did you get clean?” I ask, wondering if he and my dad went to the same place.
“California. My dad didn’t want anyone to know.”
His blue eyes remind me so much of Sorin’s. I hate that when I look at him, I see Sorin.
“Adam Black was born.”
I smirk, hearing that name. Shirts’ most valuable customer.
“Adam Black really liked Shirts.”
“He liked supporting Dani more.”
“Have you ever relapsed?” I need to tone down this flirty energy that has exploded in the last few minutes.
“I traded addictions, you could say. Now I’m a workaholic.”
“More socially acceptable.”
He sighs, then continues, “After rehab, I poured everything into coding and figuring out how to modernize the family business.”
Crypto. “Tell me. How much money did you make with Bitcoin?”
“Billions.”
“Shut up!” I whisper-shout as my jaw drops.
“Why would I lie to you?”
“Why are you still working?”
“Free time,” he hesitates. “I’m afraid what would happen if I had some.”
Addiction. It’s the thing that scares me most about Declan. I don’t want to marry my dad.
Then he says, “All the money in the world and no one to spend it with. It’s pretty depressing.”
I let that comment fall flat. I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to flirt anymore. Not that I’m intentionally flirting … it’s just happening. Leaning away from him in my bucket seat, I create more space between us. I am not going to break the rules.
“Do you like the calls and the work you’re doing with my team?” he asks after a silent minute.
“Yeah. I like the calls … and the rate.” I smile.
“You deserve it. You’re so sweetly brutal on the calls—not giving a single fuck what anyone’s job title is.” Mimicking my voice, he says, “Excuse me, I believe this brief says the key message is now … When did that change?”
“Bitches need to come correct.” I laugh. “Your chief marketing officer is great. I like her a lot, but everyone else … amateur hour.”
He chuckles. “Brittany’s amazing, and the feeling is mutual. She likes working with you too. You know, I have to mute myself any time you start talking.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m always laughing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, truly not understanding.
“I guess it’s because I know you. I know how you are politely telling everyone to fuck right off and listen to you—but in corporate speak.”
“Well, yeah. That is what I’m saying.”
“How do you feel about the rebrand?” he asks, and I flash him an awkward smile. “You hate it. I knew it.”
“The more I hear these branding people talk, the more I hate it. Dubois has name association with everyone in the investment world. Why throw away decades of branding and positive brand association?” I ask, and he nods.
“They’re just copying what Meta did,” I continue.
“Where the parent company has an opaque name and the divisions have names that match the products. At least they haven’t pitched any mythology or war-related names. ”
He chuckles, likely agreeing.
“I know companies named after white dudes are out of style … but I think it’s going to confuse the audience and so much time and energy will be spent educating that some simple noun is now Dubois.”
“Simple noun,” he laughs.
“I can be witty sometimes.”
“You’re annoyingly witty.”
I smile, hearing him say that, then push down the compliment. “Dubois is the same old company. It’s not like you’re planning to do a strategic overhaul or anything. An old white man sold it to a young white guy. Big whoop.” He chuckles. “That’s all that’s changing. Tell me I’m wrong,” I press.
“I don’t think you are.” He rubs his chin, and I can tell he is deep in thought.
“Can you put together your recommendation—to not change names, more formally? Kent doesn’t love the name change idea either, but these people come so highly regarded.
I want him to know that you and I also think it’s stupid. ”
“Do you want me to charge for my time? Or … ?”
“Pitch me a really high project rate.”
“Let’s see how long it takes me to put my thoughts together.”
“I think we’re paying these people seven figures to execute the rebrand. If we decide to cancel it, you’re going to save me at least five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Okay. You’ve sold me,” I say, with a laugh. “I’ll make sure to add another zero to what I was thinking.”
He smirks. “I’ll cancel the next call too. I don’t want to waste everyone’s time.”
“Ten billion dollars,” I whisper. “Do you ever think to yourself, like, ‘I’m fucking rich’?”
“It’s not like I’m cutting a check for it. Acquiring Dubois … The deal is ninety-five percent leverage.”
“So, if I’m understanding correctly, you have enough fuck you money to cut a check for five percent?”
“You understand correctly.”
“Wild.” I shake my head, barely able to grasp the fact. When Adam talked about deals, there was always a smugness, a cockiness. Declan is nonchalant.
“It’s a big bet—a massive amount of my liquidity. It would fucking suck if it didn’t work out.”
Curious, I ask, “Suck or ruin you?”
“Suck. I would never do a deal with the potential to ruin me … unlike some people we know.”
There’s only one person he can be referring to. “Adam?”
Declan slightly nods, then says, “If Real-ity doesn’t work out … it could end Harris Ventures.”
I knew it was a big deal—in terms of amount, but the stakes of it all set in deeper, now. “How?”
“Adam overpaid.” He pauses, then looks at the road. “I don’t want to talk shit about Gideon,” Declan says, looking back at me.
“Yes, you do,” I say, raising my brow at him.
“I like him. He’s a good guy.” Declan looks at the road and I’m curious what he’s thinking about. “Your taste in men is getting better.” He bites his lip, and I try so fucking hard not to like it. Keyword: try.
“He’s going to regret holding strong about the valuation,” Declan says like he wasn’t just flirty. “There's no way they’re going to hit their growth targets this year, which is only going to domino into future years.”
“You have more to say about that,” I press, watching his body language.
“In my opinion, this is my opinion, okay?”
“Okay?”
“Here’s how I see it,” he says, leaning his arm on the center console.
“Real-ity’s technology and platform is currently valued at a little over six hundred million, plus all the real estate they own.
I don’t know how much they actually own of each property.
It’s got to be a really small percentage. ”
“A small percentage of one point three billion is still a lot.”