CHAPTER SIX
BELLA
I checked my lipstick one final time in the car's rearview mirror. Still flawless, no trace of the brilliant red on my teeth. Good, at least I have that going for me. I took one more deep breath, steeled my nerves, and got out of my Toyota. How strange it felt to be in this parking lot again, which was overgrown and dilapidated from years of vacancy. It had always been small, with only room for ten cars, but now, the fading paint lines, cracked blacktop, pockets of weeds, and rusty dumpster stood in stark relief to the way it had looked during my father’s heyday when he ran his empire from this office building in Lantana.
I didn’t have much time to think too hard about it, though. Seconds after I stepped out, Cade pulled his black Ferrari into the lot.
At least, I guessed the car was his.
Who else would it be? Nobody had come to this place in years except for the few potential buyers who’d agreed to look at it.
But even they had been few and far between.
Dad’s old office had nothing but bad mojo, and nobody wanted to buy it, even with a listing price a third of what the comps said it should be.
For years, it had just... sat, even as real estate in South Florida boomed and prices skyrocketed.
That was the thing about assets on paper. They had theoretical value but were only worth what people were willing to pay for them. So, while I waited for the day that person would come, I paid the taxes every year from what remained of Dad’s property trust.
And the building sat empty, another testament to how much things had changed.
“I’m surprised you wanted to meet here,” Cade called as he stepped out of his car. He parked on the exact opposite side of the lot, making the gulf of space between us vast and symbolic. “Of all the places.”
I straightened my spine. He would not start off by making me feel bad. I would not give him the upper hand, and this meeting would not be as awkward as the fundraiser. It didn't matter how much I was hurting. I still had my pride.
And for God’s sake, I am still a Moretti. That must mean something.
“It’s for sale if you’re interested.” I slammed my car door. “Four million. Cheap.”
I hoped he wouldn’t see through my bluff. We were only asking for one and a half, but Cade was one of the richest guys in the region. He could afford four.
Or more.
“I’ll think about it,” Cade replied in a way that told me he wouldn’t be doing that at all.
I sighed. No, this wasn’t going to be my lucky day. “Come on. We can meet in Dad’s old conference room.”
Taking my keys from my purse, I crossed the lot to the main employee entrance.
I unlocked the deadbolt and flipped on the overhead light before leading him down a small hallway and past the reception desk.
Despite being bare, the place was still well-kept, clean, and had electricity, all thanks to money I couldn’t touch in a trust. No one would ever be able to see how the space might work for them if they were confronted with peeling paint, dilapidated drywall, water spots, and decay.
The building deserved better than that.
We arrived at the conference room without saying much to each other and took seats at the long table in the center.
Just like the rest of the place, the table still felt familiar and had some quiet dignity, even if the tabletop was warped from age and the stuffing threatened to come out of the creaking chairs.
“Would you like something to drink?” I motioned toward the water cooler at the far end of the room and the paper cups nearby.
“No, thank you.” Cade took a pen and notebook from the inside pocket of his blazer and then placed them on the table. “But I have to say, I’m pleased your dad’s office still feels a little bit like it used to.”
I scoffed, hoping it hid the tinge of surprise that coursed through me. Sure, Cade was older, but I hadn’t considered he might have done business with my father in the last few years of his life. “When were you here?”
“A few times.”
I keep my expression unreadable. “Glad it was so memorable.”
Instead of asking Cade for more details, I studied him as we sat across the table from each other, once again taking full sight of him in person after almost a decade.
Just like that night at the fundraiser, I was struck by how little had changed about Cade Weston, and how handsome the years had made him.
Plus, I was still in shock.
A day earlier, a woman named Lois left a voicemail begging me to call her back. When I did, she insisted she was Cade’s executive assistant and asked if I would find time to meet him in person this morning. Confused, I suggested this place.
Now, Cade Weston sat across from me, looking like a cat who’d found the cream.
“I know you’re not here to view the property,” I said.
“No, I’m not.” Cade opened his notebook and scribbled something on the page before looking at me again. “I had an interesting meeting with the city commissioners yesterday. They wanted to talk about Palm Beach Promenade.”
I winced. The Promenade had been one of my father’s last large-scale dreams, though probably not in the way it was turning out now.
He bought the land during the 2008 real estate collapse, convinced he could hold it until the time was right to develop it into a mixed-income site, which he said would change the perception of the area.
But that never amounted to anything more than a dream, and after he died, the acreage went to county auction.
Acreage bought by Cade.
“We’re a few weeks away from completion,” Cade added.
“Congratulations.” I didn’t mean it, but I said it anyway.
And if Cade heard the flatness in my voice, he didn’t acknowledge it. “The commission would like you to attend the ribbon cutting,” he said instead.
My breath caught in my throat, a sharp hitch that felt too loud in the quiet room. “What?”
“That was the main point of their meeting.”
Cade’s voice was low, steady, but there was a weight to it, like he was measuring every word.
He scribbled something in his notebook, his hand moving with deliberate ease.
I caught a glimpse of his broad, slanting script.
Bold. Unapologetic. The kind that belonged to a man who took what he wanted without asking twice.
My gaze lingered on his fingers, strong and sure, gripping the pen.
I closed my eyes for a fleeting moment, and my mind betrayed me.
Before I could stop myself, I imagined those same fingers tangling in my hair, tugging gently to tilt my head back.
The thought sent a shiver racing down my spine, his touch trailing lower, ghosting over the curve of my back, warm and teasing, until my skin prickled with heat.
My eyes snapped open, heart pounding, and I hoped he hadn’t noticed the flush creeping up my neck.
Where did that come from? Was I just feeling.
.. overstimulated because of the content I put on FanZone?
Or am I just horny because I haven’t had real sex in years?
“They think it would be a nice gesture,” he continued, his gaze lifting to meet mine, sharp and searching, like he could see straight through to the thoughts I was trying to bury. “Considering all your father did for this community.”
I braced my elbows on the peeling table, the rough wood grounding me as I forced my voice to stay steady. Get a grip, Bella. “That so?”
“Gino meant a lot to the county. You know that.”
“But he died a long time ago.”
Cade shook his head. “Not that long. I think half the commission is indebted to him.”
I broke his gaze and focused on the wall behind him. Looking at it was easier than looking at Cade. The wall didn’t turn me on. Cade, however,... “I think I’ll pass,” I said around the lump in my throat.
“Not exactly surprised,” Cade muttered.
The edge in his voice forced me to give him my attention again. “What does that mean?”
“Just that doing so would risk people finding out how you’ve been making money for the last few months.”
My fingers tightened around the table edge as a knot grew in my stomach. “FanZone? Who cares?” I rolled my eyes, hoping I seemed ambivalent. “You don’t know anything about me, Cade.”
“I know how bothered you were when I mentioned it at the fundraiser. You stormed out.”
“Because it was rude,” I replied, sputtering through my frustration. How dare he bring this up right now? How dare he think he knew what was going on with me? Cade Weston doesn’t know me at all. “And you were being an asshole.”
He laughed. “Wasn’t the first time.”
“FanZone isn’t why I’m saying no. Frankly, I don’t care if people find out that I have that account. I’m not ashamed of it.” What the hell does he care about what I do with my life? “In fact, I’m making a shit ton of money there every month.”
“I know you are,” he replied. “I’m one of your VIP subscribers. My username is DoubleCWest—Cade Christopher Weston.”
My mouth dropped open, shock slamming into me like a tidal wave. “What? You’re... you’re DoubleCWest?”
I gaped at him, my stomach twisting in horror.
That means he’s seen me naked. He’s watched my live streams and seen every vulnerable part of me that I put out there.
Heat flooded my face, a mix of embarrassment and fury boiling up inside.
“How could you? You’ve been lurking there this whole time, watching me like some creep? ”
He laughed once. “Creep? Is that what you think of your subs?”
“But you never log on to the private chats,” I said, ignoring his comment. “You don’t browse any of the special features. Why would you pay for something that you’re not using?”
Cade didn’t answer. He just stared back at me.
“Oh, now I get it,” I said, the reality hitting me in the face. Nobody makes all those payments without expecting anything in return. “This is charity to you, isn’t it?”
He gave me a slight shrug as a reply.
“Well, I don’t want it. More than that, I don’t need it.”
“Because FanZone is so lucrative.” He drew out the word so. It dripped with sarcasm.
“It is,” I replied, holding my ground.
In a way, I was ready for this. I knew what people thought of the site and how they viewed the content creators on the app. They thought we were all hookers, women for sale, and sluts with no self-esteem who would do anything to make a dollar. Once, I’d even agreed with that sentiment. But now...
“I made more money there last month than I did all last year.”
Cade shook his head, as if he was already exasperated by this conversation. “FanZone isn’t something you can do forever.”
“I’m willing to try.”
“You might be making decent money now, but what’s going to happen in five years? Or maybe ten? When you’re...”
“A boomer like you?”
I was being a little mean, but this was a fair comment that I had considered a few times on my own.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my thoughts, that point lingered, always lurking, an undeniable reality that I wouldn’t be able to escape forever.
FanZone was all about being youthful, sexy, and fresh.
What would happen in ten years, or even five, when I wasn’t as sexy? When I wasn’t as fresh?
You don’t have to talk about this with Cade Weston. It’s not any of his business.
“Yes, a boomer like me,” he replied. “Though you know I’m a millennial.”
I didn’t laugh. This wasn’t about his generation; it was about him sounding.
.. old. And like he thinks he knows what’s best for me.
“I’m not going to be part of any marketing campaign, or any grand opening, or anything like that.
I don’t need a handout, and my father’s memory isn’t something people can just throw around so they look good.
He’d hate that.” I stood, glancing at my watch.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a busy day, and I need to get to my next appointment. ”
He rose too. “I don’t believe that, but if you want me to leave, I will.”
I placed my fingers on the table, leaning slightly across it, my voice dropping to its deepest register. “I want you to get the hell out of here and never bother me again.”
This comment was a total bluff.
Cade himself wasn’t that bad especially when I let my gaze linger on his deep, soulful eyes—eyes that seemed to pierce through me, knowing me down to my core.
As I straightened, his gaze flickered briefly, dipping to the neckline of my blouse where it gaped just enough to reveal a hint of skin before snapping back to my face.
My breath hitched my throat, and warmth pooled between my legs.
Did I see something hungry in his expression? I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered.
Cade was a Weston. And Morettis hated Westons.
The rivalry hadn’t died with our fathers.
No, it was still very much alive, made worse by the fact that Cade ruled Palm Beach.
His business had done nothing but thrive.
He was a fixture at every party in town, and he’d amassed millions on his own.
He could afford to leave me the scraps I clung to so desperately. It would barely cost him a thing.
“Fine,” he said after a pause. “I’ll go.”
After he left, I wandered from the old conference room into what had once been my father’s large corner office.
Years ago, we sold almost everything at auction, and now all that remained was his dilapidated desk and a metal folding chair that had never gone with it.
I sank into the seat, placed my elbows onto the warped wood, and dropped my head into my hands.
What would Dad say about all this? What would he think?
I didn’t have a good answer.