Chapter 36
MELODY
“This is insane.” Cleo stood in my bedroom doorway, arms crossed, watching me pack with an expression that clearly said I had lost my mind. Maybe I had.
“You’ve mentioned that. Several times.” I folded another sundress into my suitcase. “You need new phrases.”
“I’m going to mention it several more times until it sinks in.
” She moved into the room, picking up the swimsuit I’d just added to the pile.
“You’re leaving for Tahiti. With a billionaire.
Who you’ve known for what, a few months?
No notice. Just up and go after one night in a hotel room. This is batshit crazy, Melody.”
“I know it sounds crazy.” Austin had texted me the details earlier, so I knew what kind of things to pack.
“It doesn’t sound crazy. It is crazy. Like, certifiably insane. Like, I-should-have-you-committed-for-your-own-safety crazy.”
I turned to face her. “Are you done?”
“No. Not even close.” But she sat down on my bed, the swimsuit still in her hands. “What if he’s actually a serial killer? What if this is an elaborate plot to take you to international waters where no one can find your body?”
“Austin is not a serial killer.”
“That’s what they all say right before they end up on a true crime podcast.”
“Cleo, don’t you think he could have killed me already if that was his intention?”
“What if he gets you on this yacht and decides he’s bored of you? What if you’re trapped in the middle of the ocean with a guy who just wants to—I don’t know—use you for Instagram content and then dump you?”
I sat down beside her, taking the swimsuit from her hands. “He’s not going to do any of those things.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that.” And I did. Deep in my gut, where instinct lived, I knew Austin wasn’t going to hurt me.
Not intentionally. “Cleo, I appreciate you looking out for me. I do. But I’m going.
I want to go. I want to be spontaneous and live like he does for just a week.
The guy is so unapologetically him. He likes to have fun.
I need that. I want to know what that’s like. ”
Cleo tilted her head like a curious cat. “Hold up. Did you just say you want to be spontaneous? Because that sounded suspiciously like self-growth and I’m not emotionally prepared for it.”
I tossed a silk kimono into the suitcase just to watch her eyes bulge further. “Maybe spontaneous is the new black.”
She fanned herself dramatically with my passport. “Spontaneous? Melody Stephens doesn’t do spontaneous.”
“Exactly. And that’s why I need this.”
“This is libido talking. Good sex and you’re ready to follow the man around the world.”
I grinned and bounced my eyebrows. “Good is not the word I would use. Fantastic. Toe-curling. Mind-blowing.”
She rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hands. “I need the tea. Is it the abs? The tragic backstory? Or is he—you know?”
I wasn’t about to give her the graphic details of Austin’s dick, but it was glorious.
“All of the above,” I answered.
She studied my face and then slowly shook her head. Then she let out an exasperated sigh. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“I really do.”
“Like, more than like him.”
“Maybe.” I felt my cheeks warm. “Probably. Yes.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice softened. “You’re falling for him.”
“I think I might already have fallen.”
She was quiet, processing this. I waited for her to tell me I was crazy for the ten thousandth time and he was going to break my heart.
Part of me wanted her to say it because I already knew that to be the case, but I was also hoping she would tell me to go for it.
Jump in with both feet and live like I was dying.
“Okay. But if he hurts you, I’m going to destroy him. Not just on Instagram. Like, actually destroy him. I know people.”
“You don’t know people.”
“I could know people. I could learn to know people.” She grabbed my hand. “Just be careful, okay? I know he defended you on that podcast. I know he seems different lately. But Bancrofts are Bancrofts. They’re used to getting what they want and then moving on.”
“I know the risks.” I squeezed her hand. “But he makes me happy, Cleo. Really happy. And I think I make him happy too. Isn’t that worth the risk?”
“I guess.” She didn’t look convinced, but she wasn’t arguing anymore either. “So you’re really doing this.”
“I’m really doing this.”
“Fine. But you’re keeping your location on at all times. Don’t forget the code word. If you need me to call the FBI, either type out pineapple or send me the emoji. He’ll never know.”
“The FBI?”
“Or the Coast Guard. Or whoever rescues people from yachts.” She pulled out her phone.
“Cleo, this is excessive.”
“No, it’s being smart. And safe. I’m not saying he’s a serial killer, but I’m also not saying I would let him cat sit.”
I laughed. “Noted.”
She stood up, looking around my bedroom at the chaos of packing. “What am I supposed to do for a week without you?”
“Take a break. Relax. You work too hard.”
“Work is my identity. I don’t know how to relax.”
I pulled out my company credit card—the one we used for purchasing clothes, accessories, and anything else work-related—and handed it to her.
“Treat yourself. Go to that fancy spa you’re always talking about.
Or book a couple nights at a nice hotel.
Or hell, fly down to Miami and get some sunshine. ”
She stared at the card. “You’re giving me the company card for personal use?”
“Consider it a bonus. For putting up with me and my drama for the past few months. And for being the very best assistant on the planet. A paid vacation. You’ve earned it.”
“I suppose your drama has been next-level insane.” But she was smiling now. “Fine. Maybe I will go to Miami. Get a spray tan. Drink mojitos by the pool. Live my best life while you’re off being romanced on a yacht.”
“That’s the spirit.”
We hugged, and I felt that familiar rush of gratitude for having her in my life. Cleo was more than my assistant. She was my best friend, my voice of reason, my fiercest protector.
“Be safe,” she said into my shoulder. “And if he does anything—anything—that makes you uncomfortable, you get off that yacht and call me. I don’t care if you have to swim to shore.”
“I promise.”
“And take lots of pictures. If you’re going to do something this crazy, at least get good content out of it.”
I laughed. “That’s my plan.”
Cleo left, still grumbling about being abandoned but also already googling flights to Miami, and I finished packing in a daze. This was really happening. I was leaving for Tahiti with Austin Bancroft. For a week. On a yacht.
The whole thing felt like something that happened to other people. Not me. But it was happening to me. Because of Austin. Because of whatever this thing was between us.
It felt big. Huge. Like something that could change everything.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. When I woke up, he was my first thought. When I went to sleep, he was there too. And during the day, when I was supposed to be working, half my brain was somewhere else entirely.
Even not seeing or talking to him for weeks didn’t cure me. I was so sprung on the guy it wasn’t even funny. The way he made me feel just so damn good. I had never felt like this before. Never been this distracted or consumed by someone. And the worst part?
Half the time when I was getting dressed, putting together outfits for content, all I could think about was how badly I wanted Austin to be the one to undress me. Which was not productive for work. At all.
I finished packing and carried my suitcase to the door. After packing my toiletries and makeup, I quickly went online to have my mail held. I checked my fridge and realized I would have a few spoiled dairy products when I returned, but I would deal with that later.
Then I started to pace.
What if he changed his mind? What if he realized we were being reckless?
My stomach twisted in knots. When he told me Tahiti, I thought he was joking. Then I realized he was serious and I got very excited. But now reality was sinking in and, along with it, came plenty of second guessing.
It was crazy. Cleo was right.
Before I could completely spiral, my phone buzzed with a text.
Austin: Car is outside. You ready?
I looked around my house one more time. Suitcase packed. Passport in my purse. Location sharing turned on for Cleo. Code word established.
I was as ready as I’d ever be.
Me: Coming down now.
I grabbed my suitcase and headed outside, my heart doing acrobatics in my chest. The car waiting outside was sleek and black with tinted windows. Very expensive looking.
And leaning against it, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad, was Austin.
He wore light pants and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could feel his gaze on me as I approached. His smile was slow and devastating.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey yourself.”
He took my suitcase, loaded it into the trunk, then opened the door for me. “Ready for an adventure?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The drive to the airport caught me by surprise because we didn’t go to the main airport. We went to the Bancrofts’ private hangar. Because of course the Bancrofts had their own hangar.
We pulled up to a building that looked more like a luxury hotel than anything aviation related. Austin guided me inside, past security that waved us through without question, and out onto the tarmac where a sleek private jet waited.
I stopped walking. “Wait, what?”
“Yep.” Austin grinned at my expression. “Come on.”
A flight attendant greeted us at the base of the stairs. She was impossibly polished, all smiles and professional courtesy. “Mr. Bancroft, welcome aboard. We’re ready for departure whenever you are.”
I climbed the stairs on shaky legs. The interior of the plane was amazing. Cream leather seats that looked more comfortable than my couch. Wood paneling. Soft lighting. A full bar. What looked like an actual bedroom toward the back.
I turned in a circle, noting the flat screen TV built into a wall. A table with bench seating on either side. “Austin, this is wild.”
“This is Tuesday for me.” But he was watching me with obvious pleasure. “You like it?”
“Like it? I feel like I’m in a movie. Like none of this is real.”
“It’s real.” He pulled me close, kissing me softly. “And you deserve all of it. The plane, the yacht, the adventure. All of it.”
The flight attendant appeared with two glasses of champagne on a tray. “We’ll be taking off shortly.”
Austin took both glasses, handing me one. “To adventures.”
“To adventures,” I echoed, clinking my glass against his.
We settled into seats that were more like recliners. I tried to wrap my head around what was happening. I was on a private jet. Drinking champagne. About to fly to Tahiti with a man who made my heart race and my common sense evaporate.
“You okay?” Austin asked, his hand finding mine.
“Overwhelmed. In the best way.” I looked at him. “Thank you. For this. For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this. I want to be with you. I want to show you what it’s like to live a day or two in my world.”
The plane started moving, taxiing toward the runway. My stomach did a nervous flip.
“Nervous?” Austin asked.
“A little. Flying makes me anxious.”
“You’re safe,” he said.
Obviously there was no way he could guarantee that, but for some silly reason, I actually did feel safe. Like it was just another Tuesday.