Page 41 of Prince of Lies


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He set his empty beer bottle on the side table, licked the last bits of salt off his fingers, and scooted closer so our knees touched. “Okay, enough. I feel like you know way too much about me now,” he teased. “All the mystery is gone.”

I’d hoped that would be true. Instead, I felt like we’d barely skimmed the surface, and I had a thousand more burning questions about him and the way he saw the world. This attraction was definitely not going away.

“What about you?” Rowe asked. “What was it like where you grew up? Who’s got the unfortunate photos ofyouin their living room?”

I propped my feet on the coffee table. “Daynes don’t take silly photos, Rowe,” I said mock-severely. But as to the rest… it was hard to talk about the privations of growing up incredibly wealthy after hearing about Rowe’s childhood.

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” I said finally. “I had a very privileged upbringing. My parents both come from old money. My dad’s great-grandfather founded a lumber company that put sawmills all across the Midwest—”

“Dayne Lumber,” Rowe said, putting it together. “Holy fuck. Dayne Lumber has been around since Jesus’s time.”

“Slightly longer.” I reached for a handful of nuts, more for the distraction than because I was hungry. “My family doesn’t deal with any of the day-to-day operations anymore, though. My parents socialize and travel and donate money to many, many different causes they know little about. I take my work seriously and spend a lot of time in the office. I prefer to be more hands-on with the things I’m involved in.”

Rowe’s nod made the light from the lamp glint off his curls. “So whatdoyou do for work, exactly, other than having a seat on the board at Sterling Chase?”

I hesitated over how much of a connection I wanted to reveal, and Rowe immediately tried to backtrack. “Are we getting too close to things we shouldn’t talk about?”

We were. We definitely were. But I plunged right ahead anyway, like I was hang-gliding off a cliff.

“It’s not really a secret. I work closely with some of Sterling Chase’s clients to support and nurture early business ideas,” I admitted. “Fledgling entrepreneurs need a lot of help to get their businesses off the ground, as you know. I help them find money and connections, to hone their ideas. I meet with their developers, match them to the right resources, mentor their leaders, note places where their progress is lagging, and find ways to help them improve their processes to help bring their projects to market.”

“Ah.”

I could tell Rowe knew exactly what I was describing since he was one of the people who needed money and connections. I braced myself for him to cut in excitedly and give me his own pitch, despite our agreement, or to give me puppy dog eyes and reiterate how badly he needed me to fulfill my promise and give him contacts, preferablynow. I was mellow enough, charmed enough, I’d probably even go along with it. But he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he shifted his weight, settling more deeply into the sofa, and nodded again, encouraging me to continue.

My stomach swooped again, harder this time.

“It’s a lot of work. I feel a huge responsibility to the people I’m helping, obviously. I want the best for them, to respect their goals and vision. And then, of course, there’s my responsibility to uphold the Sterling Chase brand. To make sure that all the financial dealings are fair while keeping an eye on costs and profit margins. It means a lot of long hours, but I enjoy it.” I hesitated, then said honestly, “At least… most of the time.”

“Shit,” Rowe murmured, almost to himself. “Profit margins.”

“Well, yeah. Obviously, that’s not the company’s highest priority—” I broke off, thinking of Austin. “Or not the only high priority, anyway.”

“But Sterling Chase probably signs the projects that have the strongest potential for profitability because it’s a for-profit company.” Rowe shook his head ruefully. “Don’t mind me. I’m just realizing how little I know about the business aspect of business, that’s all. It’s a little embarrassing how naive I’ve been. I’m so excited about my project and its potential impact onpeoplethat I didn’t understand why the folks at these development companies weren’t getting excited, too. I didn’t really think about how much work is involved on the back end. Ofcoursea company only wants to invest their money in something if it’ll make them money.”

“That’s not entirely correct,” I argued, stung by Rowe’s easy acceptance of this as a normal business practice and more by the fact that I couldn’t really argue with him. “The projects Sterling Chase has green-lit recently have been more commercial, I suppose. But money isn’t my goal. The projects I get involved with personally are the ones that are the most challenging and which have the highest impact on people’s lives. That’s what I find rewarding.”

“But…” Rowe wrinkled his nose in thought. “If you’re saying you pickyourprojects from the ones Sterling Chase already green-lit, but Sterling Chase focuses on things that are commercial and profitable, doesn’t that mean the ones you’re working on are gonna be the most profitable and not necessarily the most rewarding, just by default?” He grimaced. “Sorry, maybe I’m misunderstanding the whole thing.”

Or maybeIwas.

His words hit me in a way I hadn’t considered before. I thought about how much less passionate I’d been lately towards my work.

“Well, shit.” I sat forward, my hands on my knees.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Should we not be talking about this—?”

“No. Not that. I’m just having a revelation.” I laughed weakly. “For months now, or maybe even years, I’ve noticed myself getting restless. Bored. I’m dedicated to the projects I’m working on, and theyarechallenging, and I do enjoy them, but they don’t hold my attention the way they once did. So I started throwing myself into other stuff, too—adventure sports, travel to far-off places—and eventhathasn’t been working anymore. So I started taking on more projects, poking my nose into ones I’m not even supposed to be involved in, which annoys the fuck out of Sterling Chase’s head of development, looking for a challenge…”

Rowe continued to munch on the snack mix and take sips of his beer like he hadn’t quietly set off a chain of small earthquakes in my brain. “Okay. And?”

And this one simple conversation over snacks, with a guy who didn’t understand business at all, had shone a bright light onwhy. Because Austin picked the projects, and Austin didn’t take risks.

“And you just helped me realize that’s not enough for me. I need to make a change. I need to be working on bigger stuff. Ideas that are more important to me, personally.” I grabbed his face with two hands and pulled him in for an impulsive kiss. “And nowIfeel like I’ve been naive.”

For people like Austin—and my father—profitability was about numbers. But my own definition skewed slightly from theirs in a way that I couldn’t fully explain… or hadn’t been able to, until right now, when Rowe had helped me put it all together. It was about knowing the investment of my time and energy would yield something I could be proud of.

I wasn’t sure exactly what that would look like, practically speaking, but it felt like I was finally looking in the right direction.

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