“So what brings you to Harlan’s house?” he finally said.
“What do you mean?” A flicker of recognition sparked in my mind as I looked around at the palatial house again. “Wait. This is Harlan Nichols’s house?”
The crowd made perfect sense now. Harlan was exactly the type to want to be surrounded by these twentysomething, gormless, pretty people.
Hey, Siri, show me a billionaire with a debilitating case of Peter Pan syndrome.
Beau nodded. “He’s been lobbying pretty hard to acquire InfoSynth, too.”
That didn’t surprise me, but it would make things complicated for Simon. Simon and Harlan were bitter rivals, which meant this had the potential to become contentious.
“So this party is…for you?” I asked, keeping my reaction to myself.
“I don’t think so. I get the impression this is how he spends all of his Saturdays.”
“Still, aren’t you popular? Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it all,” Beau said, and for the first time, I saw a version of him I hadn’t seen before. There was a vulnerability in his face. A trace of depth—something I maybe wasn’t meant to see, kept carefully behind the façade I’d known until now.
I should’ve let it go. But I couldn’t.
“Which part is tripping you up?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“It’s weird,” he said. “You build this thing from nothing, and then one day it’s time to sell it off. People congratulate you, but no one tells you how lonely it feels to outgrow your own dream.”
The confession twisted in the center of me. I knew loneliness. But I had never imagined feeling it after a career-making high.
“Having second thoughts about selling?” I asked.
“No.” He looked down at the grass brushing the tops of our feet and cleared his throat. “It’s time. The tool is made to integrate with a bigger platform. It was always meant to be part of a larger whole. And I don’t really want to be grinding forever.”
I laughed softly. “I actually have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah? You’re going to work for Simon forever?”
“Not forever.” I tilted my head, picturing my next big leap. “I’d like tobeSimon someday. CEO of something I believe in.”
“Then what?”
“What do you mean? Then, I’ll be in charge.”
A smile tugged on his lips, and so help me, I liked being the one to make him smile.
He dropped his gaze to his drink. A beat passed before he changed the subject. “Hey, who’s your guy?”
“What guy?”
“I thought I saw you talking to…” Beau pointed toward the bar where Dylan had defied the odds and was collecting fresh drinks for both of us.
“That?” I gave Dylan one final look, hoping it would be the last time I ever saw him. “That’s Dylan. Dylan likes to watchThe Big Shortafter sex. That’s not my guy. If I could unknow him, believe me, I would.”
“Doesn’t seem like that’s how he sees it. He’s coming back this way.”
Dylan appeared at my side, pressing a plastic cup into my hand. “Vodka soda,” he said. Then he tossed an arm around my shoulder and turned to Beau. “I’m Dylan.”
The next two things happened at once. Beau looked at Dylan’s arm, then at me. His posture didn’t change, but his eyes darkened as he shook Dylan’s hand. Meanwhile, I was trying to free myself from under Dylan’s arm. There was a tug on the shoulder of my shirt, though, every time I tried to shrug him off. The back of my lace shirt was snagged on a cuff link or a button on Dylan’s sleeve.
“Nice to meet you, man,” Dylan said, his grip tighteningslightly, like he was confirming some kind of claim over me. “We were about to go meet some friends.”
