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“I know that,” Modesto said, wiping his brow, and looking uncomfortable. “But there have been rumors, and the rumors aren’t good for you.”
“They’re lies,” Rees said, and glanced at me.
“He’s not kidding,” I said. “We’ve been trying to catch the guy responsible.”
“Of course,” Modesto said, then pushed away from the railing and walked toward the house. He stopped and turned, spreading his hands out, an almost regretful smile on his face, and I felt my stomach sink into my feet. He was going to turn us down—I could already see it. I didn’t know why the bastard would invite us all the way out here then send us home without a cent. He knew all the rumors before this was set up, and yet he still was going to pull this.
But before he could speak, Rees held up a hand. “I know what you’re about to say, but hear me out,” he said, and Modesto let a breath out, head tilted like he was waiting. “I know you think it’s a lost cause, investing in my SPAC if it’s only going to cause drama. But I know where Desmond is, I have his phone number, and I’m going to handle it. He’s the one that’s been spreading the rumors, and I’m going to ensure he stops.”
Modesto raised an eyebrow. “You found him?” he asked.
“I found Alvin,” Rees said. “And that led us right to Desmond.”
“Ah,” Modesto said, chuckling. “His little henchman. Interesting.”
“We’re going to fix this. And in the meantime, I could really use your support.”
Modesto touched his face with a palm and pulled his cheek down, letting out a long, frustrated breath. I could tell he was torn—he wanted to invest, since it was a good financial move, but there was a part of him that knew his Christian flock wouldn’t be happy if he got involved with someone with scandal written all over them.
“I’ll consider it, if you’d be willing to do something for me,” Modesto said.
“What do you need?” Rees asked, and I noted that he didn’t instantly agree.
“Sign a contract stating that you will not have any affairs until after the SPAC has gone public. No more women, no more clubs, no more anything. You will behave yourself.” Modesto stepped toward Rees and I felt my heart race. Rees pushed back when people told him what to eat for breakfast—and I could only imagine how he felt about Modesto telling him that he can’t date or go out if he wanted.
I studied Rees, but he kept a surprisingly straight face, like he was actually considering it. The massive cross glittered down in the grass and Rees didn’t move, and there was some part of me that felt a surge of anger. If he agreed to this, then whatever we had going on, our little fake romance, or even the real one that might be blooming, that would be over. He’d give up too much for this one man, and I couldn’t stop it.
“I’ll think about it,” Rees said finally, and I wanted to cry. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t turning Modesto down right away. The idea of him considering it almost broke me, and I had to turn my back on them and stare down at the grass to keep from showing too much distress.
“Alright then,” Modesto said. “I can’t expect you to agree right away. So stay the night, we’ll have a good dinner, we’ll talk a bit in the morning, and you’ll decide one way or the other. I think this could be good for us all, really, for you and for me. I get you to behave, and you get my money.”
Rees didn’t answer. Modesto shot me a look, and in that moment, I knew he knew— or maybe he suspected. But either way, he thought I was sleeping with Rees, and this was his way of stopping that in its tracks. Maybe that reporter leaked the news and we hadn’t heard yet, or maybe Modesto had heard it some other way, but it didn’t matter.
This was his play. He wanted to keep Rees on a short leash, and he’d use his money as leverage to make it happen.
“My housekeeper will be out sooner to show you to your rooms,” he said. “Forgive me, but I have some work. You’re free to do as you wish with the house. I suggest going for a swim—it is very lovely outside right now.” He left with a happy wave, and disappeared back inside.
I stood staring at Rees. I couldn’t believe what just happened. He should have shouted at Modesto or at least pushed back.
Instead, he said nothing.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rees glanced back at me, but I didn’t see anything in his expression. “He’s playing a game, and I need his money.”
