Page 38 of The Renter
“Thank you, sir,” Adam replies, his tone appreciative and lighter than before.
I can’t help but let out a small laugh in disbelief. Is this insider trading?
Adam flashes me a scolding glance, then asks, “Can we meet this week? I’ll be in the city.”
“Can’t. I’m tied up with a marketing push in Europe,” Declan responds curtly. The change in his tone is noticeable. Did he realize I was in the car? Would he recognize my laugh?Get overyourself.Adam was probably the only one meant to hear it, and Declan’s tone shifted because someone else did, right?
“Good to hear,” Adam responds, exhaling slightly as he ends the call and swiftly executes the trade on his phone.
“What’s Polygon?”
“A newer cryptocurrency.”
“How much did you invest?”
“A few million.”
I burst into laughter, caught off guard. “You’re kidding, right?” The nonchalance in his tone. It’s wild. He gives my hand a squeeze. “Isn’t that … kind of illegal?” I ask, still processing.
He smirks, a cockiness in his eyes. “Let’s say it’s in a legal gray area.” Seeing my puzzled look, he elaborates, “The trade was made through a Cayman Islands account. No conflict of interest, just a shell company doing its thing. It’s not like I’m trading Harris Ventures’ money.”
“Sounds gray,” I reply dryly, my mind reeling at how casually he can throw millions around. Like, I get that he’s rich, but seeing him move money so effortlessly.Fuck.
“That’s the cryptosphere for you.” He shrugs.
“You’re gambling a few million dollars like it’s nothing?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the scale of what happened.
“It’s nothing,” he says, and his wealth hits me like a freight train.
“Casual,” I deadpan, masking how I would like to react.
“Dani,” he says more seriously. “It’s situations like this that the NDA is for. I don’t want people knowing where my focus is or what I’m investing in.”
Feeling a bit guilty for laughing earlier, I nod in understanding. His relationship with Declan lingers in my mind though. I want to refrain from digging deeper but can’t. “You said you’re friends with Declan.”
“I see myself more as his mentor. He’s ambitious, a real go-getter,” Adam says, his eyes drifting to the road ahead. “I wish he’d unwind a bit and enjoy a drink occasionally.”
“So, I’m sure you know about his past?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Adam says. “It’s good golf gossip—dirty money and his connection to the Polish Mafia. I’ve always liked the guy. He’s a straight shooter, knows what he wants, and gets it.”
Declan’s involvement with the mafia is more than good golf gossip.
“All money has its shadows,” Adam muses. “In this global economy, it’s hard to trace every dollar’s origin.”
“You don’t care?”
“I’m focused on getting deals done.”
“Ignorance is bliss, I suppose,” I say, deflecting the topic as Adam chuckles. Then, curiosity creeps in, and I ask, “Did you guys talk about me? After I saw him at the cottage.”
“No. This is the first I’ve heard from him since.”
We’re on the topic.Now is the time to talk about it—Shirts. I take a deep breath, rubbing my face, thinking of the best way to say all of this.
“I know you’ve been wanting to talk about Shirts … Declan and crypto are part of it.”
Adam raises a questioning eyebrow, yet his grip on the steering wheel tightens.
