Page 95 of Due Diligence

He chuckled, not even bothering to look at the printouts. “You know I’m not really into this part of the business.”

If he thought he could convince me to leave him out of this, he was about to have a rude awakening. I steeled myself, taking a few seconds to breathe before I said, “I know. That’s why I booked time. I’m going to walk you through it.”

“Is there a reason why?” he continued, still leaning back in his chair. “I mean, I assume you’ve got it all under control.”

It took everything I had not to raise my voice—and that was saying a hell of a lot, because I never shouted—not even at sporting events. I rested my hand on the top of his desk. “But the thing is, I don’t have it under control. We have twenty million dollars on the books I can’t explain.”

Alex cocked his brow. “That’s a lot. Have we been spending that money?”

Six-second reset.

“That’s not how it works. Money was spent, of course, but it’s impossible for me to source back our finances. I’m just trying to figure out why we have twenty million dollars that is clearly all coming from the same place in minuscule installments I never would have looked into if not for Cass.”

“Cassie?” Alex questioned, catching my mistake in a rare moment of astuteness.

“Yeah, her,” I said, moving quickly past it. “So, if this is a matter that’s going to interfere with us finalizing the Davenport-Ridgeway deal, I need to get ahead of it.”

Without missing a beat, Alex shook his head. “Well, I don’t know anything about it.”

“You haven’t even looked yet,” I replied, jabbing my finger onto one of the printouts. “How can you be so sure?”

“I just don’t know anything about any of the money. This has always been your wheelhouse. I’m the coder and the visionary, and you’re the business.”

It was like talking to a child—a very charming, evasive child.

“Did you just call yourself a visionary?”

What a prick.

Alex began to smile, and I knew I was never going to get him on track. After ten years, I could just tell. This was a lost cause.

Sure enough, he said, “I mean, we’re each one hundred and sixty-something million dollars richer than we were when we met. I’m definitely a visionary.”

His response was so quintessentially Alex that I didn’t even want to argue it. Not once had he ever acknowledged that he had been sitting on the idea for Libra for three years before we met—and in a matter of three months I had written him a business plan and acquired him millions in VC funding.

“My future children will certainly thank you for padding their college funds,” I deadpanned, unwilling to play into his hand. “But that net worth is going to plummet if this deal falls through, so help me out here. I need to know if you have any knowledge about why we have extra funds.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped, his composure slowly fading away. “But it sounds like you don’t believe me, so I’m wondering why we’re having this meeting. Is it for you to pedantically teach me about financial shit, or is it to accuse me of something?”

“What could I possibly accuse you of doing?” I responded, confusion rising. “Alex, are you hiding something?”

His handsome face contorted at the allegation. “No, Marcus. I’m not hiding anything. Are you? Because for the past few months, you’ve been itching to fight with me every time we’re alone. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing.” That was my second lie of the day.

“That’s obviously not true,” he countered. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I don’t care what you think,” I insisted, stacking up my printouts as I spoke. “I’m just trying to do my job. That’s it. I’m not here to do anything other than close out this deal and move on with my life.”

As soon as he heard me say that, Alex canted his head. His face slowly pulled into a frown. “What did you just say?”

Fucking hell, that was a mistake. “Forget it.”

“No,” he insisted, shifting forward to stare at me seriously. “You just insinuated you’re going to leave Libra after the sale. Are you kidding?”