Page 41 of Man of the Year

ANONYMOUS

Out of the many camera feeds from The Splendors Mansion, only one is of interest to me right now.

I lean closer, watching you approach the entrance.

“Here you are,” I whisper, my eyes glued to the screen.

I watch your expression. You are focused. Always are. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when you came to The Splendors. Lying is hard work, but you are good at it.

“Yes, you are,” I whisper bitterly.

You receive a message on your phone, but you’re too engrossed in the guests to check it. It’s all right. I’ll do it for you, as always—every call, every message on your phone is reflected on my spyware app that’s synced with your device.

I’m watching you every minute I can. Indoors. Outdoors. At your place, yes, your place. I’ve been there. It’s a shithole. Years of work, and you still don’t have anything to show for it, though you think this time will be different.

You seem slightly upset, which is understandable in your position. I’d feel bad for you if I didn’t know you better and everything you’ve done in the past. Including the secret you buried in that cabin in the woods.

You think you have everyone fooled.

Maybe. Just not me. You are an opportunist. I know you well and why you are here. Soon, I’ll make all your secrets rain on you all at once.

That’s a promise, Nick.

THIRTY

NATALIE

The official presentation is over. The crowd disperses across the terrace and the lawn. Many hang out at the Wi-Fi-powered tablet stands. No doubt, these guys are checking the stock markets, making thousands of dollars a minute, even when they are drinking their fancy cocktails.

Rosenberg is chatting to a young girl in a golden minidress and sparkly stilettos. Her blond hair is swept to one side and over her shoulder, barely covering her deep cleavage. Her body practically vibrates with pheromones—boobs out, hip cocked. I’m sure she’s not a crypto mastermind—she’s a huntress. The troubling thing is that she doesn’t look old enough to drink. If she were at my bar, I would’ve carded her without a second thought and watched her drink to make sure no one spiked her.

Rosenberg’s hands are in his pants pockets, his white button-up undone at the neck. He’s smiling, his gaze now and then sliding to the girl’s cleavage that seems to inch closer and closer to him as the two of them talk.

I can tell he wants to hook up. That whiskey he chugged in the library is already in his system, and more is coming. Let’s see what the Crypto King is like when he’s hammered.

I approach him with a professional smile. “Drinks?”

I don’t look at the blondie, only at Rosenberg. Slowly, I take his special drink off the tray and hand it to him. “Your iced tea, sir,” I say, catching a glint of surprise in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, accepting it.

I look at him like I just met the love of my life, and he gazes back.

“Everything okay?” the blondie chirps, but he doesn’t look at her, and I don’t break our eye contact. I muster a shy smile, make it disappear, then smile again, projecting timidness, cocking my head at him, faking awe.

“Ex-cuse me,” the blondie says louder, irritated. “Are you done here?”

I nod and lower my gaze, as if in submission, then step away. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rosenberg take the first sip, and he grunts—freakinggrunts—in satisfaction.

Mission accomplished. I just need to get him alone, possibly drunk, possibly somewhat incapacitated. That’s the only way I can find out if he has any secrets on his phone or on his computer. I can also see what he tries with me, so I can find out what he tried with Cara. I’m his confidante now, after all.

This would’ve been a good time to pass on any information that the stalker guy wanted me to get to Rosenberg. With so many people around, I could’ve easily slipped a note into his pocket. Hopefully, another opportunity will come up.

Chin up, I continue my rounds around the back terrace and run right into Julien’s cold stare across the terrace. He stands in the shadows, like a security guard, his eyes tracking my movements. I have a feeling he knows that I just served Rosenberg a drink. But no one will question me. No one will assume that I volunteered to break the house rule.

I purposefully stay within earshot of Rosenberg and his huntress, offering drinks to others but paying close attention to what the boss is doing.

That’s when Rosenberg leans over to the blondie and says not so inconspicuously, “How about we take this somewhere private? Go check out the library. I’ll meet you there in a bit.”

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