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“Because he’s not as careful with his money as some other investors. He’s willing to take risks on some of my less-orthodox ideas.”
“You’re brilliant. It’s a shame to waste that making money for men like him.”
“Unlike some people, I didn’t inherit a shitload of generational wealth.” My tone was dry. His childhood had sucked, but the way he threw money around really gave me the impression he didn’t know what it was worth.
“I don’t want you doing business with him anymore. I don’t like how he talks about our wife.”
Had he somehow overheard tonight’s conversation? I’d been ready to flatten the man, myself.
“Mywife is well aware of what the man is like. She used to come for dinner with us before she got her role on Rose Red. She encourages me to take his money.”
The anger in his gaze dimmed, and he seemed somewhat mollified. “Still.”
“If I had more options, I could be more selective, but business is what it is. As they say, it makes for strange bedfellows.”
“I’m pretty sure that was supposed to be politics, not business.”
“The principle is the same.”
“Only insofar as there are no principles.” He was still frowning at me, looking self-righteous and arrogant. I wanted to smack his beautiful, sanctimonious face.
“I do what I have to do to make sure we’re never poor again. You don’t get to judge me for that.”
His lips curved. “Let me kill him, and you can invest my money however you’d like.”
I rolled my eyes. “Controlling you isn’t my responsibility.”
“You’re right. No one gets to control me anymore. Never again.”
He was nodding to the beat of the music playing on my satellite radio.
“I love this song,” he mused, as though we hadn’t been in the middle of a heated argument.
I’ve never heard this song in my life, but a man with a growly voice was singing something crudely sexual.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea for me to use you as an investor,” I told him, although I was also telling myself. Loïc wouldn’t be so difficult to convince. He’d trust me to make decisions. However, the fact that we were fucking complicated matters.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you come to Prague and get laid?” he asked, as though inviting me over to their apartment.
I should have addressed that, but I wanted the company more than I wanted to argue with him about who she belonged to. “There isn’t enough time. I only have two days.”
“Can’t you take vacation?”
Did he miss me? Pathetic.
Okay, Mister I-Hope-it’s-Him-Calling. Talk about glass houses.
“Well…I probably could, but I never do. The office has been busy.”
He arched a brow. “And how’s that working for you?”
I was going to argue, but maybe he had a point. “I’ve been lonely,” I admitted.
“And yet you’re not planning to visit her. You’ll leave it to her to arrange visits to America when she’s not working.”
