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I needed to tear a page out of his playbook and follow it.
“Wearing a suit did not make my success happen. Dressing a certain way did not teach me how to invest and grow my portfolio, whether it be stocks, bonds or real estate. It took hard work and good business sense. Dedication and determination. If I wanted to be strangled with society’s expectations, I would’ve followed the unspoken rules. But rules were meant to be broken. Unlike my heart.”
I tried not to let the small digs bother me because in the larger picture he was opening up to me. In time, I hoped the sharp digs would lessen and his openness with me would increase.
It would take bucket loads of patience and very thick skin, but, at this point, that was all I had.
“Once I built a small real estate portfolio, I put together a small management team because I could no longer handle everything myself. As my real estate portfolio grew, so did my team. Now it not only manages my buildings, it manages both commercial and residential real estate for others.”
“You’re a collector of buildings and businesses,” I summarized to keep him talking.
“I collect a lot of things.”
“Men? Like the one in the elevator the other week?”
“Investments are for my future. Men are just my…”
“Toys.”
“An outlet. I keep what makes me money. I get rid of what doesn’t.”
I took another sip of the pricey scotch. That should’ve been an obvious sign.
The Range Rover. The Macallan. The fact he used a different entrance up to the roof than the rest of the building’s residents.
Maybe my investigative skills were slipping since, at the last television station I worked for, I rose up the ladder to the point where I was simply given news copy to read in front of the cameras. None of it produced from my own legwork.
With my new job I was back in the trenches. It was harder work for less money than sitting behind the nightly news desk as an anchor.
No matter what, I was willing to put in the time and effort to get back to where I was previously. A “pretty” face in front of the camera with a fatter paycheck to help pull me free from the mountain of debt I currently was buried under.
“So, you gave up your dream of getting into the tech industry.”
“That was never my dream, T. It was only a direction. I drifted off that path when I found a better one.”
“Drifted,” I repeated softly. That wasn’t the word for his career path.
He shrugged. “I smashed the accelerator pedal.”
I wanted to tell him how proud I was of everything he’d accomplished but I wasn’t sure if he’d be open to compliments or kudos from me. He probably didn’t want anything from me besides sex. An outlet, as he put it.
I’d work on changing that. One step at a time.
I finished off the eighteen-year-old scotch, placed the empty glass next to the bottle that probably cost half my month’s rent, circled my hand in the air and asked, “May I?” unsure if he’d like me wandering around his home.
Ronan hesitated for a few seconds before nodding.
I headed toward the long hallway on the far side of the “great room” eager to see the rest of the penthouse.
Surprisingly, he didn’t follow me, but let me explore on my own. I took that to mean he had nothing to hide.
As I wandered through the penthouse way too big for one person, I scanned for signs of other men—whether past or current, other than Grindr dates—around his home.
I found nothing.
I flip-flopped between pleased about that fact and also sad. Pleased for me. Sad for him. I wondered if I had been his last and only serious relationship.
I had always wanted him to be happy. I took full responsibility for crushing his happiness all those years ago.
The only photos I spotted—mostly in his large and well-equipped home office with a view as impressive as his living room—were of his parents back from when his father had been alive and what looked like more current ones of his mother, as well as some of Ronan and his brother. Even a couple of Declan with his family.
The massive main bedroom had a California king and was done up in shades of grays accented with white and black.
Classy.
Like his vehicles. Unlike how he dressed.
He certainly was an enigma.
I was thrilled for his success and even happier to see him doing much better than I ever thought he would.
It also drove home the fact I hadn’t been there for him. I hadn’t been by his side as he built his business and his success.
But then if we had stayed together, maybe he wouldn’t have reached quite this level of success. Maybe his life would’ve been different. He might not have pushed himself as hard.
