But that was impossible. And again … not his job. I’d always taken care of myself and would continue to do so.
He was persistent, though. His fingers brushed my hair over one shoulder. Then the tips grazed slowly down my bare spine. Flame after flame ignited against my vertebrae.
“You have to accept that I wanted you in my life, I pulled you in, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you. And to keep you safe.”
Everything about that delicious statement sent a tremor through me, yet I asked, “That means hiding things, whatever’s happening at the Lux?”
“I consider it more … selective sharing.”
With a shake of my head, I said, “That’s not fair. Nor is it what I want.”
He let out a long breath that teased my skin. Then he took my hand. “Fine.” He led me back to the table.
We sat and I picked at my salad.
Dane didn’t seem particularly pleased with this change in direction but told me, “I graduated high school when I was seventeen and went to Harvard. When I was nineteen, I had Ethan as a professor and he mentored me, in a way. We became business partners on a few smaller projects. Then I built a boutique hotel at Lake Tahoe.”
“I read that on the Internet. And, by the way, I still want to know how you’ve so carefully contained information about yourself and your family. There are hardly any pictures, too. I’m literally shocked you’re not a billionaire playboy whose mug graces every society page in the world.”
“You really take me for the playboy type?”
I studied him for a moment. I wanted to ask, How would I know the difference? since he was so secretive. But I did have enough to go on, from a personal point of view, to be able to draw a few conclusions. His intensity alone negated any sort of carefree existence.
“Okay, you have me there,” I admitted. “But still—”
“Donations,” he offered. “That’s how I do it. I have someone on my staff who monitors everything posted about me, and I can have it removed by throwing money at it. Mostly sizable contributions, but well worth the investment.”
“Why?” I asked, distressingly fascinated and alarmed at the same time. “Why’s it so important to only have content you want posted?”
The grim look returned. “My privacy is crucial, Ari. You just have to understand that it is.”
More secrets. I went back to my salad, agitated. Yet trying to reconcile who he was and what he was up to.
Finally, I posed different questions. “If you think you know who’s causing problems at the resort, why can’t you stop them? I mean, you’re capable of controlling every other facet of your life. Who are these people that they’re powerful enough to pull off this mayhem that trips you up? And, for that matter, why are they concentrating on ‘tedious’ mishaps? Granted, the security-wiring snafu is a larger hindrance, but something like furniture being sent to the wrong continent is really a minor setback when you can just reorder the pieces.”
He grimaced, almost painfully it seemed. “I appreciate your train of thought. You’re very intuitive. First, with regard to the Lux, it’s not exactly a simple matter of calling up a few companies and asking them to reship our goods. Those pieces were specially crafted. Second, the wires were clipped in various places, strategically so, leaving me no choice but to rewire the entire perimeter. I had originally wanted a more sophisticated Wi-Fi–type electronic monitoring system, but with the sketchy signals in these canyons, I couldn’t rely on it. I had to go old-school. Well, relatively speaking. It’s a hugely expensive system.”
“Oh.” I pushed aside my plate, losing my appetite. “So when you said ‘tedious,’ you really meant fairly monumental and costly.”
“Yes.”
I reached for my wine and sipped. “You didn’t tell me why you can’t put a stop to it all.”
His teeth ground together in frustration. Then, “I’m not sure exactly who’s behind this. I have my suspicions, but nothing concrete. And those I do believe are involved are extremely prominent people, Ari. As you’ve surmised. Not ones to mess with arbitrarily, without a solid plan. This all started happening just a couple of months ago and I’m … struggling … to find my course of action. Trust me when I say, these aren’t people you want to poke with a stick. Unless you know you have the bigger stick.”
But they were fucking with him—I couldn’t help but think about the media room fire—and I could clearly see that tore at him. Dane Bax did not strike me as the type of man who let anyone screw with him, let alone destroy something that meant so much.
An insidious shiver made me squirm in my seat.
He was definitely mixed up in something shady. Something volatile.
I didn’t do shady and volatile.
So why was I still here?
I drained my glass and tried to calm my tormented insides. Why was I so wrapped up with this man that I couldn’t see the trouble for what it was and walk away?
He said, “You can understand now why I wanted to keep you out of this?”