“I’m glad you think so.”
“How could I not? It was amazing. But we need to focus. You still think it could be Noelle? Her hatred of me is fierce, but putting a fish in my bed seems odd for her.”
“Can you see Aldrich leaving a fish in your bed?”
“Not really. But I’m starting to doubt my ability to judge people’s character. Oh my god, I’m going to turn into one of those eccentric paranoid billionaires. How long before I start trying to build an impossible-to-engineer airplane in a massive hanger out in the middle of nowhere?”
“I’m sure you have a few good years left. And yes, I still think Noelle is a possibility. The fish could be for shock value, or to throw you off her trail. Regardless, I think you should get Derek involved. His firm can help manage the media if things start going sideways.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” She grabbed her phone and groaned.
“Another email?”
“No, a text from Bobby Spencer. He’s throwing an intimate soiree”—she made air quotes—“on his stripper plane tonight.”
“What’s a stripper plane?”
She rolled her eyes while she typed a reply. “A few years ago, he bought a private jet from some Saudi prince. I think it’s literally from the early nineties, and it’s hideous. I’m talking red velvet and leopard print with gold-plated everything. I’ve only had the misfortune of seeing pictures, but it’s outfitted with a rotating bed, a full bar, and a stripper pole. It’s another one of his brilliant business ideas that’s done nothing but waste a bunch of his trust fund.”
“Classy.”
“Oh dear, I was about to RSVP with a plus one, but he texted again to say I don’t need to bring my bodyguard.”
“The fuck you don’t,” I said.
Her lip curled in a smile. “Mm, territorial. I like that. I honestly don’t know why he keeps inviting me to things. I’ve never gone to one of his parties.”
“So he’s clueless, delusional, and wealthy. That’s a charming combination.”
“At least I won’t have to tolerate him much longer.” She sat back down on the stool. “I can exercise my option to buy more shares next month. Then I’ll own a majority interest in Spencer, and I can tell him to fuck off.”
My brow furrowed. “Does Bobby know you’re buying out his family?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure what Milton’s told him. I’ve always kept my distance from their private family matters.”
“Bobby might not be happy about the fact that someone else is on their way to owning his family’s company.”
“I don’t know why he’d care. He lives off a bottomless trust fund. He’s an only child of an elderly multi-billionaire with no other heirs. Spencer could go bankrupt and he’d still never run out of money.”
“What about Bobby’s mother? What’s her story?”
“Ruby Spencer-Kensington-Alviar. She and Milton split up years ago. Last I heard, she was living in Spain after leaving her third husband and taking half his fortune. Some women marry well, Ruby divorces well.”
“That helps explain Bobby.”
She sipped her coffee. “Yeah. Milton is actually a decent guy, but he was almost fifty when Bobby was born, and I don’t think he was a very involved father. Ruby was much younger, but I doubt she ever wanted children. Bobby was raised by a string of nannies who never stayed on very long because he was such a spoiled shit. I’d feel sorry for him, but he’s thirty-six years old. At some point, everyone has to stop blaming their problems on their crappy childhood and either be a good person or not.”
“True. And you said Milton was friends with your grandparents?”
“Yeah.” She slid off the stool and picked up her plate. “I’ll clean up.”
I eyed her for a second. Was that an intentional evasion of my question? Or was she just ready to move on from breakfast conversation and get home?
“I can take care of it.”
She took my empty plate and set it on top of hers. “You cooked, I can do the dishes. It’s not like I forgot how. Plus, don’t you have some packing to do?”