Chapter 6
MELODY
My first instinct when I felt the arm wrap around my waist was violence. Specifically, driving my heel down onto whoever’s foot had the audacity to touch me without permission. I was already having the worst twenty-four hours of my life. I didn’t need some handsy wedding guest making it worse.
But then I looked up. And up. Into the face of Austin Bancroft.
Oh god.
I would have recognized those features anywhere. That gorgeous face with the chiseled jaw I’d been staring at on my phone last night. The dark hair that looked artfully messy even in person. The eyes that looked like he was perpetually one second away from doing something reckless.
He was even more devastating in person. The kind of hot that made intelligent thoughts evaporate. The kind of hot that made you forget your own name.
My tongue felt thick and useless in my mouth. I tried to speak but just made a confused noise. His lips curved into a smirk that should’ve been illegal. Devilish. Knowing. Like he was fully aware of the effect he had on people and enjoyed every second of it.
“You look stunning, baby girl.”
Baby what?
There was no way he just said those words to me. He had to be talking to someone else. But his arm was most definitely around me. My heart did a full gymnastics routine in my chest. My cheeks flooded with heat so fast I probably looked sunburned.
Did Austin Bancroft just call me baby girl?
I opened my mouth to respond—to say literally anything—but my brain had turned to complete mush.
Every synapse was firing in different directions.
Some part of me registered that people were still recording and watching every second.
Every nuance. Every blink of my eyes. The interaction was about to become very public very quickly, but I couldn’t make myself care.
He leaned in closer, so close I could count every dark eyelash framing those dangerous eyes. So close I could smell his cologne, expensive and woodsy. It made me want to press my face into his neck and just breathe.
“Thank me later,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
And then his lips were on mine.
Oh. Every rational thought I had scattered like leaves in the wind. My first instinct was to push him away. To ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. I really should remind him that consent was a thing and you couldn’t just go around kissing strangers.
But then his lips moved against mine, and logic became a very distant concept. The kiss started gentle. Almost tentative, like he was just brushing his lips against mine in one of those polite European greeting kind of things. Or he was giving me a chance to pull back.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And when I didn’t resist, something shifted. The kiss deepened, became white hot and consuming. His hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer until I was pressed fully against him, all hard muscle and man.
One of his hands came up to cup the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. I made a sound I’d probably be embarrassed about later, but right now I didn’t care. Right now, the only thing that existed was his mouth on mine and the way my entire body had turned to liquid heat.
I was forgetting something. Something important. The crowd. The cameras. The fact that I was supposed to be having the worst day of my life. All of it faded until there was only Austin Bancroft devouring my mouth like a man starving.
Then he broke away, and I nearly whimpered at the loss.
Before I could catch my breath, his hand slid down my back and grabbed my ass. I yelped. Loudly.
Every single person in the garden was staring at us. Mouths hanging open. Phones raised. Some people looked scandalized. Others looked like they’d just witnessed the entertainment event of the season.
Austin’s chest rumbled with laughter against me. He seemed completely unbothered by the attention. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying it.
He glanced around at the crowd, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Go on,” he called out, his voice rich with amusement. “Post your hearts out.”
Chaos erupted. People talking over each other, phones clicking, someone gasping dramatically. I caught snippets of conversation.
“Did that just happen?”
“Oh my god, is that Austin Bancroft?”
“Who is she?”
“Someone get this to TMZ immediately.”
Austin’s hand found mine, and suddenly we were moving. He pulled me away from the crowd, weaving through guests who parted like the Red Sea. I stumbled after him, still trying to process what had just happened, my lips still tingling from the kiss.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Trust me.”
We hurried across the garden, up the stone steps of the Plume estate, and into the house. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, navigating through hallways until he found what he was looking for: a bathroom.
He pulled me inside and locked the door behind us.
I immediately rounded on him, finding my voice at last. “What the hell was that?”
He leaned against the door, still looking entirely too pleased with himself. “That was me saving you from a very uncomfortable situation.”
“By kissing me?” My voice came out higher than I intended. “You can’t just go around kissing people you don’t know!”
“You didn’t seem to mind.”
My cheeks burned hotter. “That’s—that’s not the point! You don’t even know me!”
“I know you were about to get torn apart out there.” His expression softened slightly, though the amusement never quite left his eyes. “I know what that feels like. Figured I’d give them something else to talk about.”
“By kissing me. And grabbing me.”
“Sold the moment.” He shrugged, utterly shameless. “Had to make it look real. You know how people scrutinize everything.”
“You could’ve asked first!”
“Would you have said yes?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Because honestly? If Austin Bancroft had walked up and asked if he could kiss me, I probably would’ve thought he was pranking me. Or drunk. Or both.
“That’s what I thought.” He pushed off the door, taking a step closer.
In the confined space of the bathroom, he seemed even taller.
Even more overwhelming. He was just so much man.
Sex oozed from his pores. Not in an icky, sticky way, but in a take-me-to-bed kind of way.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. But you looked like you needed saving. ”
“I did need saving,” I admitted, my anger deflating slightly. “Just not the lip-kissing, ass-grabbing kind. A tequila shot would’ve worked.”
He laughed and I hated how much I liked it. How it made me want to grab him and demand he kiss me again.
“Fair enough,” he said, still grinning. “Though I think my way was more memorable.”
“Memorable is one word for it.” I pressed my hands to my hot cheeks. “Do you have any idea what you just did? Those people are probably already posting. This is going to be everywhere.”
“Good.”
I blinked at him. “Good? How is that good?”
“Because now they’re not talking about whatever got you canceled yesterday.” He tilted his head, studying me. “That was you, right? The influencer everyone’s dragging?”
My stomach dropped. “You know about that?”
“My date mentioned it. Summer. She’s—well, she’s not important.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Point is, you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else, and people were circling like sharks. Now they’ve got a much better story.”
“That I was making out with Austin Bancroft at a wedding?” I shook my head. “That’s not better. That’s just different chaos.”
“Different is better in this case.” He leaned against the marble sink, casual as anything. “Look, I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m almost afraid to hear it.”
“We can help each other. I’ve got an older brother out there who’s watching me like a hawk, and a babysitter masquerading as my date who keeps texting him updates on my behavior. I need to shake them both.”
“And I fit into this how?”
“You need a distraction. Something to take the heat off whatever mess you’re dealing with. I need a buffer between me and my family’s expectations.”
Was he insulting me? Was that a dig at my size?
No. I knew insults and that wasn’t one.
“A buffer?” I repeated. “Is that a football analogy?”
Now he was the one to look confused. “What?”
“Do you expect me to block them? Stand in front of you?”
“No, I want you to pretend you’re with me. If I have you, I don’t need the babysitter.”
“Wait, did you say you’re here with a date?”
“A babysitter. Not a date.”
“Where is she?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
I stared at him. “You want to use me as a fake girlfriend.”
“I want us to use each other. You get a Bancroft on your arm for the rest of this wedding. I get some breathing room. We both survive the night in one piece.” He extended his hand. “Deal?”
It was insane. Absolutely, completely insane. I didn’t know the man. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been scrolling through his Instagram creeping on him like a stalker, and now he was proposing we pretend to be together?
But the alternative was going back out there alone. I would be spending the rest of Sophie’s wedding as the cautionary tale everyone pitied. Or I could spend it with the most eligible bachelor in New York on my arm, giving everyone something else entirely to talk about.
“This is a terrible idea,” I said.
“Probably.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“We can fix that over cocktails.” His hand was still extended, waiting. “Come on, baby girl. Take a chance.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? Your face did this cute thing when I said it earlier.” He gestured vaguely at my cheeks, which were definitely still burning. “All pink and flustered.”
“I was not flustered.”
“You absolutely were. Still are, actually.”
God, he was infuriating. Arrogant and cocky and way too aware of how attractive he was. This was definitely a bad idea.
I reached out and shook his hand. The contact sent a little thrill up my arm that I absolutely was not going to think about.
“Fine,” I said. “But we need ground rules.”
“Such as?”
“No more surprise kissing.”
“What if it’s for the cameras?”
I hesitated. “Then you warn me first.”
“Deal. What else?”
“No more ass-grabbing.”
He grinned. “Even for the cameras?”
“Especially for the cameras!”
“You’re no fun.” But he was still smiling. “Fine. No ass-grabbing. Unless you ask nicely.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Try to look like you’re having a good time. We’re supposed to be into each other, remember?”
“That’s going to require some serious acting.”
“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m wounded. Here I thought we had chemistry.”
We did. That was the problem. That kiss had been way too good.
“Ready to go back out there?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and checked my reflection in the mirror. My lipstick was smudged, my cheeks were flushed, and I looked like I’d just been thoroughly kissed.
Which I had been.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Austin unlocked the door and held it open for me, gesturing grandly. “After you, baby girl.”
“I said don’t call me that.”
“And yet here we are.” He flashed me that devastating smile again.
I would have an incredible story to tell Cleo tomorrow.