Page 112 of Boyfriend of the Hour

I’d never brought anyone from the neighborhood here. Not even Rochelle. Certainly not my family, although a few times I’d wanted to bring Marie just to see if she’d crawl into a hole or if she’d surprise me by liking it. But I never had. I knew, that in my heart, I was one of the lonely souls in this city who sometimes needed a space like this to escape and justbe. And I couldn’t bear it if someone I loved looked at me differently because of it.

Nathan, however, was nothing but curious as he perused the room and watched everything happening, hand still firmly wrapped around mine. If anything, he was just as content as anyone else. He was fine with it all. Fine withme. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, your family,” I called out once I had started to relax.

He turned. “What about them?”

“Horses? Really?”

His shoulders tensed slightly. “I grew up on a horse farm about an hour from Washington, DC. My family breeds racehorses as a side project.”

“That’s what they do for fun?” I was legitimately shocked. I liked to go thrift shopping for fun, not collect multi-million-dollar animals.

I’d known Nathan was wealthy, but not like that.

Or maybe that was just his parents.

“Don’t you think I should know a little more about this kind of stuff?” I asked when he didn’t answer my question. “It’s goingto seem weird if I meet your parents and I have no idea who they are.”

He turned again, appearing visibly pained. “No, you’re right. I’ve been putting it off.”

“Are they that horrible?”

He shrugged. “Yes. No. I don’t really know. I left Virginia to find some space from them. But also, I don’t like talking about them because people tend to treat me differently when they find out who they are.”

“And that is?”

Nathan sighed heavily. “My parents are Lillian and Radford Hunt.”

I blinked. And waited for some epiphany to fall over me, as it was obviously supposed to. It didn’t. Which meant that, yet again, I was a clueless idiot.

“You’re not saying anything,” Nathan said.

“I…don’t have anything to say,” I replied. “Are those names supposed to mean something? You’ve mentioned them before, you know.”

“Most people know them.” He tried again. “Until last year, my father was the CEO of the Huntwell Corporation.”

Again, nothing. “So, your family owns a big company? What do they do?”

Nathan appeared genuinely surprised by my response. “Mostly venture capital, although my father has always had a soft spot for mining—do you really not know who they are?”

I shook my head. “I don’t follow finance, man. Too busy pouring drinks and shaking my ass.”

“Until he retired, my father was one of the leading venture capitalists in the country. Sort of like Warren Buffet.”

When I didn’t answer to that, he continued with more names.

“George Soros? Peter Thiel? Larry Fink?”

I shook my head three more times. “Nope, nope, and nope. I’m assuming they’re all super rich, probably white guys, but beyond that, they’re just names.”

Nathan looked honestly bewildered. “These are some of the wealthiest people on the planet, Joni. The decisions they make affect everyone. When they invest in something, it changes the world.”

“Which is amazing,” I concluded. “And I’m sure I’ve paid attention to things they’ve done. But the names just aren’t important to me. Like this dress. I couldn’t tell you who designed it. I think I saw it on Bella Hadid once, onPage Six. But mostly I just think it’s pretty and I like it. I feel the same about the vintage Steven Madden dress I found in the bargain bin at the Goodwill.”

Nathan remained quiet, digesting my words.

“So, your family’s rich,” I pressed on. “And given our arrangement, obviously overbearing. Question, though, why doyouknow so much about these guys when you’re a doctor, not an investment banker or whatever?”