Page 37 of A Man of Wealth

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

I sigh, I need to leave. I need to focus on my meeting tonight and being around Conner is making me lose any sensibility I once had. How does this man drive me so insane?

“I thought we were in this together, Conner. But if you want to keep secrets, then we can keep this professional. You can’t be one way part of the time and another the other part,” I state as I press the ground-level button.

“Vivienne…” he starts.

“No,” I reply as the doors shut, leaving me with one last glimpse of his face. It’s a mixture of anger, confusion, and concern. I should care and I do, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that secrets only lead to more pain, and I’m over that. No more secrets. No more pain.

I head back to my apartment and change into my lounge clothes. I need to get back to my research.

My phone pings with a text. I look down. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was hoping that it was Conner, but it’s not. It’s Jared.

Jared: You still good for six at Le Fleuve?

I reply yes and go back to my computer. I had started digging through documents that I received from a source at Roman Cavilieri’s shipping company. Roman is a longtime friend of Theo. They often do business together, thus the need to gather more information. Lucky for me, Martin’s cousin works there, and after meeting with him, he agreed to get me files. He’s also on his way out of the company in a few weeks, so it was a final parting gift to his employer. And even more lucky for me is that he was working on several shipping deals involving both Cavilieri’s and Sterling’s companies.

The file took overnight to download. It’s a huge amount of information and will likely take me a few days to go through it all.

I decide to start with emails. There are so many and most subject lines have me putting them in the “useless” category. I find a few that I flag for further examination later. The ones that pique my interest the most happen to be correspondence with the White House. Aaron Beacher. He is the press secretary, which seems like an odd choice for contact with a shipping company.

I deep-dive into Aaron Beacher. I know he’s a member of the brotherhood, but otherwise, I have very little information about him.

My deep dive leads to a canyon of background. Aaron’s links to President Jason Lewis. Hell, he was in TOD with Conner, Sebastian, and Aiden. He clearly got his cozy job by kissing the asses of the TOD elite. It’s interesting how many things he’s involved in at the White House. Jobs that normally the press secretary wouldn’t have any part of, yet he’s there. Noted at meetings. Noted by the press at certain events.

He seems to be everywhere, even when President Lewis isn’t there. There are a number of photos of him with Conner. Could Conner be overlooking obvious people in his search to find who is behind everything? My phone pings with an alarm and I realize that I’ve spent the entire day researching.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I jump up and run to grab a shower. I spend the entire time that I’m getting ready, having my computer read me emails. I toss on a black knee-length dress. I want to look nice but not too nice. Am I using Jared? Yes. Do I want to lead Jared on too much? No. It’s a fine line to walk.

My phone texts with a message from Jared stating a car is on its way to pick me up. I turn off my computer and begin to go through my conversation points. I’ve been contemplating what to say to him all week. I need to get him talking about his company. It needs to be strategic. Jared is smart, and he knows I’m friends with Conner. It’s going to be a tough conversation for sure.

I go to the waiting car and watch the people out enjoying their evenings as the car passes each street block. The driver pulls up to a restaurant that I haven’t been to yet. It’s impossible to get reservations here. Jared wants to impress me. I file that away.

The driver lets me out, and I head to the hostess table. She immediately whisks me through the restaurant to a private table in a back courtyard. There are no other tables out there. Twinkling lights hang overhead and outdoor heaters keep the patio feeling comfortable even with the evening chill in the air.

“Mr. Pallin says he is running a few moments late, Ms. Westerly, and please order a cocktail and peruse the menu while you wait. He sends his apologies,” a waiter says after I’m seated.

I nod as he hands me a menu and goes through it. I order a cocktail and take out my phone.

No calls or texts from Conner. I’m not sure why I keep checking. I’m over him. I’m done with his split personality, crazy issues. I don’t know what I thought we had. I suppose it was those fleeting moments together, those little seconds of time where I swear I saw a different side of him; those precious few minutes where he shared his past with me, trusted me. It was like winning the lottery. Why did I care so much? I shouldn’t ever care about a subject like that. And that’s all he was, a subject, a source, a person who was helping me with a story. Hell, a person who was part of the story.

The waiter sets down my drink and I take a long sip, calming my nerves.

“So sorry I’m late, Vivienne,” Jared’s voice rings out from behind me. I go to stand to greet him, but he leans down and kisses my cheek. I’m not sure how to feel about that. It feels…too intimate. I mean, we are acquainted, but a kiss-on-the-cheek acquainted?

“No worries,” I state as I pull myself together.

“Oh, good. You ordered a drink,” he says as he sits, and the waiter comes over to take his order as well as go over the menu with him.

Jared proceeds to make small talk while we sip our cocktails. I decide quickly having spent some time with him at the gala and now here, that this man loves to have people blow smoke up his ass. He wants to be praised.

“How did you become so successful at such a young age?” I ask. “It’s very impressive,” I add quickly.

He eyes me up, but smiles, which makes me relax.

“I work hard. And I used my connections.”

“It must be hard to run such an important company.”

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