Chapter 3
AUSTIN
The mahogany doors of my father’s study closed behind me. It felt like the lid of my coffin had just been closed. Today felt like a reckoning.
I hadn’t been to my father’s new home with his new wife, my old aunt. I didn’t even go to their wedding, which was just another black mark against me.
I wasn’t surprised by the lavishness of the estate.
My father was a billionaire. And Aunt Kathy, AKA my new stepmother, was a billionaire in her own right.
My late uncle, my father’s brother, was married to Kathy.
Both my father and his brother built empires.
My father built his empire in western Canada and my uncle pretty much dominated the eastern half of the United States.
I think we all knew back then there was some bad blood, but we never truly understood until adulthood.
Then Dad married our aunt and it was pretty clear.
I liked Kathy. I liked most of my cousins. But there were some big personalities on that side. Both sides.
Dad sat behind his massive desk, every inch the patriarch in his perfectly tailored navy suit. His salt-and-pepper hair was impeccably styled, his jaw set in that familiar line that meant I was about to get the verbal lashing of a lifetime.
Back in the day, that look intimidated me.
Well, until I was about thirteen and hit puberty.
Testosterone had me rebelling pretty hard.
Probably harder than any of my brothers, which led to a lot of arguing.
I argued with my brothers. My father. The horde of nannies.
Teachers at school. I could not be controlled.
A few years ago, I couldn’t handle it and left. And now I’m being dragged back in.
The study itself was a monument to Bancroft success: leather-bound books that were likely first editions, art, and a few vases. Windows overlooked manicured grounds that looked more like a city park. It was a massive estate that I knew hosted many family gatherings.
My eyes moved around the room and landed on Cash.
He was sitting in one of the leather chairs, his arms crossed over his chest, looking like some kind of sentinel.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes, which was probably for the best. I was still pissed at him for dragging me here, hungover and unprepared for whatever fresh hell awaited me.
I could have stayed away. But since I’d been back in New York, I’d made myself available to them. Not available but accessible.
“Sit down, Austin,” my father said.
I dropped into the leather chair across from his desk.
I was familiar with the situation. Same shit, different study.
I had been lectured about my grades, my behavior, my choice in women, and my complete lack of interest in the family business more times than I could count.
Nothing ever changed except the specific details of my latest transgression.
“Do you want to explain to me what the hell you were thinking?” Dad’s voice was deadly calm, which was somehow worse than if he’d been shouting.
“About what, specifically?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant. The recording. The reporter. The latest in a long line of Austin Bancroft fuckups that had made their way into the public eye.
“Don’t play dumb with me, son. It doesn’t suit you.” He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “A reporter, Austin. You called a reporter and told her that our family name means nothing to you. That you’re just happy to spend our money.”
The disappointment in his voice cut deeper than I wanted to admit. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“You’re always drunk!” The words exploded out of him, and for a moment, the careful control slipped. “Do you think this is a game? Do you think the Bancroft name is some kind of joke?”
I wanted to tell him that sometimes, yes, it did feel like a joke.
That carrying the weight of his success and expectations was exhausting when you were the family disappointment.
That being the youngest Bancroft son meant always being compared to brothers who seemed to have been born knowing exactly what they wanted and how to get it.
They were all successful in their own right.
Even those that had been screwups were getting their shit together.
Instead, I said nothing.
“I thought things were different after Christmas,” Dad said. “I thought you were finally ready to be part of this family again.”
There it was, the hurt beneath the anger. Christmas had been different. There had been tentative conversations. And I did feel like there had been genuine forgiveness for past transgressions.
Apparently, he thought I was going to transform overnight into the perfect Bancroft son. Drop my head and fall in line like all my brothers had eventually done. When I continued living my life exactly as I always had, the disappointment had crept back in.
“I’m not like them,” I said quietly, nodding toward Cash without looking at him. “I’m not like any of you. I never have been.”
“I know that.” Dad’s voice was softer now, almost gentle. “You think I don’t see that you’re different? You think I don’t know that you march to your own drum?”
The admission caught me off guard. In thirty years of disappointing him, I’d never heard him acknowledge that I might be fundamentally different rather than fundamentally broken.
“But different doesn’t have to mean reckless,” he continued. “Different doesn’t have to mean embarrassing your family every time you leave the house. I’ve given you space to grow. I hoped you would figure it out.”
“I don’t try to embarrass anyone.”
“Don’t you?” Cash’s voice cut through the room like a blade.
I turned to look at him. “No, I don’t.”
“From where I’m standing, it looks like you go out of your way to make headlines for all the wrong reasons.”
I stood up, anger flaring in my chest. “Not everything I do is about this family, Cash. Sometimes I’m just living my life.”
“Your life affects all of us,” Dad said. “Whether you like it or not, you carry the Bancroft name. Your actions reflect on the family.”
This was the part I’d never been able to escape, no matter how far I traveled or how hard I tried to carve out my own identity. I was always Austin Bancroft first, individual human being second.
“I don’t know what to do with you anymore, Austin,” my father continued, and for the first time, I heard genuine defeat in his voice. “I’ve tried everything. Patience, consequences, distance, reconciliation. Nothing seems to work.”
I’d always known I was a disappointment but hearing him admit defeat felt like watching the last bridge between us collapse.
“So I’m handing the reins over to Cash,” Dad said, settling back in his chair with the air of a man who’d just made an executive decision. “If anyone can figure out how to manage you, it’s your brother.”
I turned to stare at Cash, who was wearing an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Manage me?”
“That’s right.” Cash straightened his tie with deliberate precision.
“Manage me?” I repeated. “I’m not fucking five. I haven’t needed a babysitter in a long time. I don’t need to be managed.”
“We’re attending Sophie Plume’s wedding on Saturday,” Cash said as if I hadn’t spoken.
“We are?” This was news to me. I hadn’t even known Sophie was getting married, much less that I was expected to attend.
“We are,” Cash corrected. “And you’re going to be on your best behavior. You’re going to smile, shake hands, make pleasant conversation, and under no circumstances are you going to do anything that could even remotely be construed as scandalous.”
I laughed because the whole situation was absurd. “And how exactly do you plan to ensure that? Got a muzzle you plan on putting on my face?”
Cash cleared his throat and moved toward the door. “Summer, would you come in, please?”
The woman who entered the study was everything I usually found attractive in the most superficial way possible.
Tall, slender, elegant, with the kind of beauty that looked effortless but probably required a team of professionals to maintain.
Her blonde hair was styled in perfect waves, her makeup was flawless, and her designer dress showed off her perfect body.
“Austin, I’d like you to meet Summer. She’s going to be your date to the wedding.”
Summer stepped forward with a perfect smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Austin. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I stared at her, then at Cash, then back at her. “This is a joke, right?”
“No joke,” Cash replied smoothly. “Summer has been carefully selected and thoroughly vetted. She’s signed a comprehensive NDA, and she has one very specific role at Saturday’s wedding: to keep you out of trouble.”
The full scope of what was happening began to sink in. They weren’t just asking me to behave at a wedding. They were assigning me a babysitter. A beautiful, professionally trained babysitter who would monitor my every move and report back to my family like some kind of spy.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious,” Cash said. “Your days of embarrassing the family are behind you, Austin. Your behavior has proven that you require a short leash and a shock collar.” He nodded toward Summer with something that might have been approval. “You’re lucky the one I got for you is pretty.”
Summer’s smile never wavered, which was somehow more unsettling than if she’d looked uncomfortable with the arrangement.
“This is insane,” I said, looking between Cash and my father. “You can’t just assign me a handler like I’m some kind of unruly dog.”
“We can and we are,” Cash replied so calmly it made me want to punch him. “This is what accountability looks like, Austin. If you can’t manage yourself, someone else will manage you.”
I turned to my father, hoping for some kind of support or at least acknowledgment that this plan was completely insane. Instead, I found him nodding his approval.
“I think it’s an excellent solution,” Armand said. “Summer is experienced in managing difficult situations.”
That’s what I was to them, a difficult situation that required professional help.
“And if I refuse?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
Cash and my father exchanged a look, and I realized this conversation had been choreographed long before I’d entered the room.
“Austin, can I speak with you privately for a moment?” Cash said.
He didn’t wait for an answer, just headed toward the door that led to my father’s private terrace. I followed, mostly because the alternative was continuing to sit in that study under my father’s disappointed gaze and Summer’s artificially pleasant smile.
She looked like a robot. Or one of those Stepford wives.
Cash closed the door behind us and turned to face me, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it.
“This is it, Austin,” he said without preamble. “Your last shot.”
“My last shot at what?”
“At being part of this family.” The words hung in the air between us like a death sentence. “Dad’s not going to say it to you because he loves you, but I will. If you mess this up, if you embarrass the family name one more time, he’s cutting you off. Completely. His lawyers are already on standby.”
I scoffed. “You’re bluffing.”
“One more public scandal, one more embarrassment, and you’re done. No more trust fund, no more family support, no more Bancroft name opening doors for you.”
Everything I’d ever known and taken for granted could be gone with one more mistake. Yeah, I had distanced myself from them, but I still had the name and my trust fund.
“This is bullshit,” I hissed. “And Summer is fucking creepy.”
“Summer is non-negotiable. She’s going to be with you until you prove you can be trusted. Think of her as training wheels for your life.” Cash’s expression softened slightly. “Look, I know this feels extreme. But we’re trying to save you from yourself here.”
“By assigning me a professional babysitter?”
“By giving you structure you’ve never had.” He stepped closer, and for a moment, he looked less like the heir apparent and more like the brother who used to sneak me cookies before dinner when our nannies weren’t looking. “You’re thirty years old, Austin. It’s time to get it together.”
The conversation was over. I could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. This wasn’t a negotiation or a discussion. It was an ultimatum wrapped in the pretense of family concern.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll play your game.”
“Good.” Cash straightened his tie again. “The wedding is Saturday at two.”
We headed back into the study, where my father and Summer were making polite conversation about the weather. Both looked up as we entered.
“We’re all set,” Cash announced. “Austin understands the arrangement.”
Summer stood and extended her hand to me with that same pleasant, empty smile. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Austin.”
I shook her hand. “Likewise.”
“Don’t disappoint me again, son.”
The words followed me as I left the study, walked through the grand foyer, and pushed through the front doors. As I drove away from the estate, I noticed Summer’s car following at a discreet distance.
“Seriously?” I muttered.
She was going to follow me around.
Fuck my life.