Page 34 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

“But,” I said to Caspian, “don’t you donate a lot of your personal fortune, as well as some proportion of your company’s profits, to a range of charitable causes?”

Caspian crossed one leg over the other, his foot moving restlessly. “I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

“It’s my interview. I decide what’s relevant, Mr. Hart.”

His attention snapped back to me with the force of a cane strike—something I now had legit experience of, and had discovered I was not at all into. I honestly hadn’t meant to call him that. It had just slipped out. A glob of ectoplasm from the ghost of happier times, when I got to cheek him, and tease him, and turn him on, and he’d not only let me, but maybe even loved me a little bit for it. “I only discuss money in the context of business.”

“But this is, like, a matter of public record. It’s in your company’s annual report. You donated over two billion last year alone.”

If he was remotely impressed I’d read, well, downloaded and flicked through Hart & Associates’ annual reports (Arden St. Ives: Totes Profesh), he didn’t show it. In fact, he just sighed one of his most impatient sighs. “I did, but I couldn’t tell you who it went to. I hire people to make these decisions for me.”

“Okay. And how do they decide?”

“They do research within a framework I provide for them.”

Jesus. This was like pulling teeth. From inside other teeth. Which were in cement. “What’s. The. Framework.”

“It’s complex, but it’s mostly a question of efficiency. Emotional appeal and personal experience are extremely ineffective guides for the distribution of resources. My team is tasked with funding projects that produce desirable outcomes, not desirable photo opportunities.”

“So,” I said slowly, “what you’re essentially saying here is that you want to help as many people as possible in the best way you can, rather than choosing causes you feel a personal connection to.”

He blinked. “I would never say anything so sentimental. I merely believe that there is a fundamental structural flaw in our approach to large-scale philanthropy. A cause is not inherently worthy of support just because a rich person happens to identify with it.”

“So I guess in certain contexts, being apolitical can be just as much an ethical position as…um, not being?”

“For God’s sake, Arden.” Caspian sounded somewhere between exasperated, amused, and lost. “Why are you so absurdly committed to seeing the good in every situation, irrespective of the futility of the endeavour?”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a billionaire half-full kind of guy.”

Caspian raised a hand to cover his mouth, but not before I’d seen his smile. And before I knew it, I was smiling back.

A cough from Nathaniel. He didn’t seem too happy right now. I’m not sure I entirely blamed him, but at the same time, someone should have told him you didn’t need to cast other people as sinners in order to play the saint.

“We must be close to done here,” he said. And then, touching Caspian in a totally unnecessary fashion, “I know how demanding your schedule is, my prince.”

I’d been monitoring the clock on my mobile. With this being my actual job and everything, and me not being a hundred percent screwup despite my holiday villa in Screwupville. “We’ve still got about ten minutes. But speaking of schedules”—I attempted something vaguely conciliatory in Nathaniel’s direction, though I’m not sure he bought it—“you’ve recently been appointed director of the Ainsworth-Singh Foundation. How do you balance your relationship with two such high-powered careers?”

“Actually,” came Nathaniel’s reply, “it makes it easier because it means you know your partner will always understand that there are times when you have to make work your priority. We both have lives outside the relationship, so neither of us is sitting around in an empty flat all day waiting for the other to come home. I believe the strongest relationships come from a place of equality in all areas.”

Well. That wasn’t so much a burn as an attempt to salt the fucking earth. “What would you say were the main challenges in your relationship, then?”

Nathaniel’s hand had settled lightly on Caspian’s knee. “For me, it’s when the person you love does things you know are bad for him. When you’re with someone, you have a duty to help him be the best version of himself.” He got that glowy look again. “Caspian made me very proud when I convinced him to give up smoking again.”

“Good for you.” I grit my teeth. “How about you, Caspian?”

He’d vanished again. No more secret smiles for me. “Striving to be worthy.”

“But is love really about being worthy?”

Nathaniel curled his fingers, stilling the restless motions of Caspian’s foot. “I was raised to believe that things that don’t take hard work and sacrifice aren’t worth having.”

“I think”—Caspian hesitated, his voice barely more than a whisper—“I just want to make Nathaniel happy.”

Okay. I was done. Sosodone. Turning off the recorder, I stuffed my phone into my pocket and lunged to my feet. “Thank you for your time. This has been…” Out of nowhere I was suddenly giving them a thumbs-up. Even though nobody has given anybody a thumbs-up since 1973. When I was minus twenty-something years old. “This has beengreat.”

“I look forward to reading your piece,” said Nathaniel, with what seemed to be something close to sincerity. I guess I’d been right—this was more than an Arden-punching exercise to him. He’d really wanted it for some reason: a public statement of their unity.

“Enjoy your, y’know, lives.”

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