Chapter 74 #2
“For sure, but the technology side, in my opinion, is only worth five hundred million dollars today. They’re valued at a hundred million dollars more than that. So, Adam overpaid. He got caught up in all of it. He was too emotional with this deal.”
We were on the verge of breaking up when this deal closed.
“The investors are not going to get their expected returns this year,” Declan adds. “It’s going to be hard for them to ever catch up.”
“So how could that ruin Harris Ventures?”
“Adam needs other people’s money to do deals. If investor confidence goes down, it’s going to be hard for him to raise money for future deals. Like if Real-ity has a down round, that is really going to piss some people off.”
“Down round?” I ask, never having heard this phrase before.
“If Real-ity gets into a position that they need to raise more money to stay in business, it’s a bad look all around. Gideon will be asked to step down, they’ll have to lay people off … it will be bad.”
Maybe that’s why Gideon is thinking about stepping down too … outside of me.
“And if the company fails … Well, I don’t think anyone is going to give Adam any more money. And Adam …” He trails off.
“Adam what?”
“If Adam were to ever lose that much money …” Declan raises his brow.
“Mafia,” I whisper, picking up on the situation, and he nods.
“I think he overpaid by at least fifty million, probably more. His ego …” Declan trails off again. “Like at the auction, he emotionally doubled the bid. He’s letting his emotions drive too much these days, not the numbers.”
The auction. “Why did you bid on the painting?” I ask, genuinely curious.
A little smile grows on his face before he says. “I wanted you to know that I see you.” He hesitates. “That I’m an option.”
We hold a heated stare before I confess, “I thought you would be more excited about hearing I haven’t had a drink in five days.”
“Why do you want me to be proud of you for that?”
I huff. “You love to call me a fucking drunk. I thought you would … I don’t know.”
“When you get to ninety days …” His eyes bore into mine as I wait for him to finish that sentence. “Then we’re in trouble.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but I do anyway. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t fuck anyone who hasn’t been sober for at least ninety days.”
“And here I thought you were celibate.”
“I fuck.”
A nervous laugh escapes me as my heart rate soars. “I’m just saying you can calm down about me having a problem. I know how to casually drink.”
“Why are you counting then?”
Fuck you! I scream internally and look back out the window. “How do you always know when I’ve been drinking?”
“Your eyes … they give you away.”
“My under eyes are getting really bad … I’ve been thinking about getting filler.”
“Don’t ever fuck with your face.”
“Don’t ever get a face tattoo.” I break our gaze so he doesn’t see how much I’m holding back a smile. “Can you not flirt with me?” I ask, staring out the window.
“Can you?”
I loudly sigh. I knew this car ride was a bad idea. Both of us are silent for at least two minutes.
Interrupting my thoughts, he asks, “You know … I like working with you. Last summer, Adam said you didn’t want to work with me. Is that true?”
“I did say that … after Utah.”
“We crushed it in Utah, though.”
“Our vibes were too much.” I kinda regret saying it, but it’s the truth.
“Ah, you were scared about the way I was making you feel.”
“Scared?” I ask, my tone too high-pitched.
“You’re the one that decided not talking to me was the best route.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper defensively. It’s the only comeback I can think of at the moment.
“Someday.”
“Declan …” I scold. Our forced proximity is revealing so much that’s been unsaid. “We have another hour trapped in this car together. Focus on the road,” I say, breaking the silence.
“The car drives itself, you know.” He raises a flirty brow.
“You said ninety days,” I snap back. Stop fucking flirting with him!
I look out the window, getting lost in my thoughts.
Have I ever said I don’t want to fuck Declan?
No. I called dibs on him the first time I saw him.
Would I ever do it? I don’t know. Being a recovering addict is no joke, and being with a recovering addict is a whole job in itself.
I don’t want to be my mom, managing an addict and taking on that burden.
“Changing subjects.” I roll my eyes. “Remember Ador?”
“Do I remember a place where my family used to clean money?” He laughs.
“My friend is dating the guy who bought it. It’s supposed to be really nice. Not that it wasn’t nice before, but more modern,” I ramble, not trying to shit on a place I’m assuming he or his family owned. “Tell me the truth—Did Sorin own Ador, or did he just tell people that?”
“The business was in his name.”
“Okay,” I slowly say, picking up on the mafia of it all. “Well, after the wake, I was planning on having dinner there with my friend Kelsey and the guy that bought it, Ben. Do you want to join?”
“What would Gideon think of you taking me on a double date?”
“It’s not a date. And we’re on a break.”
His face, which is just too fucking good, softens into a big smile.
“Try not to look so fucking happy about it.” I playfully swat his arm after he didn’t even try to conceal how much he liked hearing that.
We don’t say anything for a few moments until he asks, “Because of how he grabbed you?”
“Yeah, and a couple of other things.”
“Like?”
“So nosy. He had some drugs in his house. That’s a hard no for me.”
“Boundaries. Didn’t know you had them.”
“Good one,” I mock.
“Do you do anything else besides drink coffee, alcohol, and fuck old dudes?”
I glare at him. Why is a smile growing on my face? “I’m content with my vices,” I finally manage. “Just so you know, I’ve only done coke one time since the Sorin saga.”
That night was fucked, and I try not to think about it anymore.
“Saga.” He laughs.
“Tell me a better way to describe it?”
“You are very good with your words when you want to be.”
“Want to be?” I repeat.
“You have more conversations in your head than aloud.”
“Untreated anxiety. It’s very sexy stuff.”
“Why untreated?”
I roll my eyes, regretting opening this door.
“Don’t clam up now.” He presses with a chuckle.
“The idea of therapy is cringe to me.”
“Cringe?”
“If it worked, why is no one fixed?”
“So cynical … I wouldn’t hate on something you’ve never tried.”
“I tried it … After Sorin. It was the only way my parents were going to let me leave the country.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
I make a scrunched face, not wanting to talk more about it, and fortunately, he changes the subject. “How is your dad doing?”
“Good. Sober. There’s not much to say about him. We don’t really have much of a relationship.”
“We have so much in common.” He squeezes my shoulder.
I know it’s a chaste, playful, reassuring, friendly squeeze, but I like how it feels too much.
“I actually haven’t seen my dad in years,” he says. “The guy is …” Declan hesitates.
“If you say just a sperm donor, you have a lot more in common with Sorin than you want to believe.”
“Then I won’t say it.”
A bratty smirk crosses both of our faces. This conversation. This banter. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this energy.
“Did you know him, my dad, when he was using?”
“No. I was not on the ground like Sorin. More upper management.”
“Clean hands.”
“As clean as they could be.”
“So, you’re sixteen, fresh out of rehab, learning to code … when did you become part of the family business?”
“It was always a thing. Like my dad would explain the economics of everything we did all the time. Dude is obsessed with Excel.”
“That’s funny!” I giggle, thinking about it. “I never considered how the Mafia would also use Excel.”
“It’s much more sophisticated than people want to believe.”
“When were you like ‘Bitcoin, it’s going to change everything’?”
“2011.”
“I was in high school. Hilarious.”
He raises a brow. Declan definitely wasn’t in high school then. He was in his twenties. “It came out in 2009. Exchanges didn’t really start to happen until the next year, and the early exchanges were fucked. Seriously fucked.”
“I recall how painful it was learning how to use one in 2017.”
“You figured it out. You’re smart. It was all so technical then. The average person would never have been able to figure it all out. But seriously, before 2017, it was even worse. That’s why I started working on my own, and well, yeah—Cryptoball.”
“I was stunned on our last call to hear that you have nearly one hundred million customers on the platform now.”
“I never thought crypto would go mainstream. I got lucky.”
He fucking built a trading platform in his twenties. Declan is really cool. I can’t believe I’m thinking that.
“So … can I ask you a favor?” I ask after a pause.
“Sure.”
“Never say or text me ‘nice driving’ again.” He looks puzzled, a frown forming. “Bad memories,” I explain, and he nods. “I’ve always wanted to know, were you driving the car that chased Sorin and me?”
“Clean hands.”
“Right. Upper management.” I giggle. “You realize how fucked up all of this is, right?”
“I do. You were supposed to be some random girl, but then you were … you.”
I look out the window of the SUV to break his gaze.
“After I met you at the bar,” he starts, and I look back at him. “I’d never been more confused in my life.”
“You’ve always been such a stalker.” I tease, deflecting.
“Clean hands.”
I giggle. He’s so fast and witty. Then, I am curious. “Tell me how you knew I was at the bar that night.”
“After your driving, the guys were impressed,” he says, looking proud. “They couldn’t believe how well you drove that car. There was so much chatter about this girl that drove Sorin’s muscle car better than a pro.”
I cock a brow, not believing him.
“Enough conversation that it got to me.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Yes.”
I shouldn’t find him being a big deal in the Mafia hot.
“Then, I was curious,” he says. “I had them look into you. They told me you were from the area and that your dad previously had some debts with us. That you were in college, everything …”
He takes a deep breath. Is he nervous?