CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CADE
She looked beautiful.
A bit innocent too. How was that possible?
The compliment had tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it, but even after I said the words, I didn’t regret them.
Inexplicably, Bella in her back-of-the-closet evening gown, was prettier and more authentic than any of the photos or videos she posted on her goddamn FanZone page.
An hour or so later, I was still mulling that fact over, its weight lingering like the humid Palm Beach air.
The fundraiser was in full bloom, and the lawn stretched wide under a canopy of banyan trees, their gnarled branches draped with strings of Edison bulbs casting a soft amber glow.
A turquoise infinity pool shimmered at the edge of the entertainment area, reflecting the flickering light of tiki torches staked along the perimeter.
Beyond, the faint crash of ocean waves carried from the nearby shore, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional trill of a steel drum band playing something upbeat yet tasteful from a corner stage.
I was halfway through my second glass of Veuve Clicquot, the champagne’s crisp bubbles a sharp contrast to the warm, salty breeze.
The glass felt cool against my palm as I stood near a high-top table draped in white linen, one of many scattered across the flagstone patio.
Luke Rothschild appeared at my side, looking effortlessly polished in a lightweight linen suit, the pale blue fabric catching the glow of the lights.
His flute of champagne tilted slightly as he raised it, the golden liquid sparkling like the pool nearby.
“Fantastic evening isn’t it,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar aristocratic polish, smooth as the travertine tiles underfoot.
He took a sip, and I raised an eyebrow. Luke had been a health fanatic for years and now ran a series of expensive cycling studios that dotted the East Coast. Seeing him on his second glass of alcohol was as jarring as spotting a pelican in a penthouse.
“Didn’t peg you for a champagne guy tonight,” I said, swirling my glass. “Thought you were all about coconut water and clean living these days.”
Luke let out a low chuckle, the sound blending with the rustle of palm fronds overhead. “Even saints fall off the wagon sometimes. Besides, it’s for charity.” He nodded toward a sleek wooden pergola where a banner fluttered, proclaiming the evening’s cause.
“How much do you think they’ll raise tonight?” Luke asked.
I shrugged, scanning the scene. The guest list was a parade of Palm Beach’s finest: real estate tycoons, retired Wall Street types, and a few bronzed influencers who’d made their fortunes on social media.
Under a cabana, silent auction tables displayed prizes like a private island getaway or a custom-designed golf cart—quintessential Palm Beach flexes.
The crowd was buoyant, their laughter rising like the tide as they mingled on the lawn or clustered near the open-air bar, where a bartender in a hibiscus-printed shirt muddled mojitos with theatrical flair.
“At least two million,” I replied. The estimate felt safe, given the deep pockets in attendance and the competitive energy pulsing through the night.
Luke let out a soft whistle, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Not a bad take for a backyard bash.” He glanced toward the pergola. “Bet half these bids are just to one-up each other.”
I smirked. He wasn’t wrong. The Palm Beach society set loved an ostentatious spectacle, and this fundraiser was as much about status as it was about saving the reefs.
Across the lawn, a tech billionaire loudly pledged a six-figure donation, his voice carrying over the steel drums. Nearby, a woman in a flowing kaftan whispered to her companion, probably strategizing how her contribution would land in the next issue of Palm Beach Illustrated.
“Probably,” I said.
He raised his glass in a mock toast, the torchlight catching the edge of his smile. “Spoken like someone who’s survived too many of these parties.”
I laughed, clinking my glass against his, the sound sharp against the soft lap of the pool and the distant murmur of the ocean. But my mind was still half anchored to that earlier conversation, the champagne doing little to loosen its hold.
Luke tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something on your mind?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “Just work.”
“By the way, I’m a little surprised you brought Bella Moretti,” he said as he finished his drink.
I paused, weighing my response carefully. Luke and I were friendly enough, but we weren’t exactly close buddies. “The commission asked me to reach out to her,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Yeah, right,” Luke snorted. “That woman hasn’t shown up to anything in, like, forever.” He placed his empty glass on a tray carried by a passing server, his movements casual but deliberate. “I’m pretty sure the last time I saw her was back in high school.”
I raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. “She stood out to you that much, huh?”
“Nah, not her, man. Her father. Gino Moretti. That guy was a legend.” Luke leaned back slightly, like he was picturing the memory.
I nodded, but my jaw tightened just a fraction.
“Gino Moretti and his daughter are two very different people.” I set my own glass down on a nearby high-top table with a little more force than necessary, my eyes flicking toward Bella across the room.
Something protective stirred in my chest, unbidden but undeniable.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to her. ”
Luke grinned, his tone teasing but not unkind. “More like rescue her. She’s almost surrounded over there.” He jerked his chin toward the growing crowd near Bella, amusement glinting in his eyes.
I didn’t bother responding, just gave him a quick nod before heading her way, my steps a little faster than before as I strode across the patio tile to Bella.
For the last few minutes, she’d mostly been tied up in conversation with Vernon Douglas, a local politician and perennial candidate for Congress who never hesitated to remind anyone who would listen that Frances Fisher owed her start in Palm Beach government to him.
Not wanting to seem too possessive or weird, I’d allowed Vernon to trap Bella in mindless small talk as I wandered over to the bar in search of a refill.
But now, the bored expression on her face was obvious even to me.
Clearly, Vernon hadn’t picked up on it.
“We should be starting dinner shortly,” I said when I arrived at Bella’s side. “I overheard the staff talking about how they’ll call us over soon.”
“Great.” She stood a little straighter and seemed to brighten at my presence. I liked that.
“The invitation said we’re having Maine lobster and grass-fed steaks.
” Vernon pulled a face that exaggerated the large skin folds on either corner of his mouth and made him look like someone in a medieval painting, a little bit evil and haggard from the daily stress of life.
“Seems a little typical, don’t you think? ”
“I haven’t had either in a long time,” Bella replied softly, and something tightened in my chest. No, I guessed she hadn’t eaten either of those, not if things had been so hard financially.
She’d probably skipped meals, counted pennies at the grocery store, and looked for coupons and two-for-one deals.
Even a couple successful months on FanZone probably hadn’t shaken her out of those habits.
“We’re lucky to have such wonderful catering at parties like these,” I said, making sure I caught Vernon’s gaze and hoping he heard the unusual emphasis behind my words.
“We certainly are. And your father was also one of the best supporters of the new restaurants and event companies that always seem to crop up around here each season,” Vernon replied, mainly speaking to Bella.
“He was?”
Vernon grunted his yes and swallowed some beer. His nose and cheeks were already red. How much liquor has he put away already? “Hasn’t really been the same without him.”
Her face brightened, and the skin around her eyes softened. “I miss him a lot.”
Vernon’s eyes flicked between us, sharp and calculating, a sly smile curling his lips. “I’m sure you do.” His attention lingered on Bella for a beat too long before darting back to me. “I’m also sure Gino would be stunned to see his daughter here tonight... as Cade Weston’s date, no less.”
The word hit like a jolt. Bella and I both stiffened, our reactions mirror images of each other.
Her shoulders tensed just as my fingers tightened around the stem of the glass I’d taken from a passing waiter on my way to Bella’s side.
I stepped closer to her instinctively, my body angling to shield her from Vernon’s probing stare.
“Date?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Vernon raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. “Isn’t that what this is?”
Bella recovered first, her composure sliding back into place like a well-practiced mask. “Oh, no,” she said smoothly, her voice cool and unruffled. “This is strictly business. Nothing more.”
Her eyes met mine briefly, and though her expression was steady, I caught the faintest flicker of something. Uncertainty? Defiance? Then she looked away.
But I felt it. The weight of her words. The way they didn’t quite land as convincingly as she’d intended. My chest tightened, and I fought the urge to reach for her hand, to ground us both in something real.
Vernon let out a low, skeptical laugh, clearly unconvinced. “Business, huh?”
I bristled, my protectiveness flaring hotter. I didn’t like the way he looked at her.
“Bella’s consulting on the final stages of the Promenade,” I said, my voice firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. I shifted closer to her, my shoulder brushing against hers, a silent claim I couldn’t stop myself from making. “Her father loved that site. It meant something to him.”
My words were calculated, each one selected to silence Vernon and make it clear Bella was no mere accessory at my side.
As I spoke, her presence beside me burned, her breath hitching faintly at my defense of her.
My pulse quickened, a quiet thrill stirring within me.
Does she sense it too? Vernon tilted his head, his smile thinning. “I see.”
He didn’t. Not really. I could tell from the way his attention lingered on Bella, like he was still trying to piece together what was happening between us. It irritated me more than it should have.
“She’ll be at the grand opening in January,” I added, my tone clipped. “Her input’s been invaluable. The Promenade wouldn’t be what it is without her.”
Bella’s gaze flicked to mine, and for a fleeting moment, something softened in her expression.
Was it gratitude? Relief? Hope? Whatever it was, it made my heart stutter.
The air between us thickened, charged with an unspoken question neither of us seemed ready to answer.
My hand twitched at my side, aching to brush against hers, to close the distance that felt both too vast and not nearly enough.
Vernon chuckled again, oblivious to the current sparking between us. He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To business.”
I didn’t return the gesture. Instead, I held Bella’s gaze a second longer, my voice dropping to a quieter register meant only for her. “Are you okay?”
Her lips parted, barely, and the faintest flush crept up her neck. “Fine,” she murmured, but the word carried a weight that lingered.
“Looking forward to the opening.” Vernon’s words drew me back into the evening. He finished his beer and gave it to another white-shirted server threading through the well-dressed crowd. “Drove by the location yesterday on my way up to Jupiter. Fine job.”
“Thank you.”
Bella grinned. “I’m thrilled Cade invited me to be part of this. It was so kind of him.”
“And it was solely your idea?” Vernon asked me. I could tell by his tone he had doubts. He’s probably heard something from Frances Fisher about all this.
“My team had a constructive meeting with the county commission the other day, and I knew I needed to loop Bella into the mix,” I said.
“I’m thrilled he did.” Bella sounded like she meant it, and now it was my turn to be surprised.
In fact, everything that had happened in the last few hours had been nothing but unexpected.
When I called her to ask if she’d attend the fundraising dinner, I was almost convinced she’d say no.
But then she’d done the opposite. When I arrived at her apartment, it was obvious she’d put a lot of thought into what she was wearing and the way she looked, even though she’d barely had any time to pull something together.
Now, she acted as if she wanted to be here with me, as if she had hoped for it.
That’s odd.
“I want the Promenade to make the best impression possible in Palm Beach County,” I said. “And having Bella be part of the ceremony will certainly do that.”
The bell sounded, directing us to take our seats for dinner and, thankfully, ending the conversation with Vernon.
We said goodbyes quickly, and I led Bella to our places in the middle of the table.
Like at so many of these parties, an event planning team had pulled no punches, decorating the center of the long table with greenery, gold candles, fairy lights, and roses.
Each place setting featured gold silverware and charger plates threaded with silk.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the table setting.
“Yeah,” I replied, my gaze fixed on her instead.