Our Chaotic Love Affair (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #23)

Chapter 1

CASH

Summer was killing me.

Not the season. Summer the person. The scandal had me in its grip and wouldn’t let go. Even now, I was sitting in the back of a town car, on the phone doing damage control with another investor looking to distance his company from the Bancroft empire.

“Henderson, we’ve had a partnership for eight years.” My voice was controlled but I didn’t feel in control. “Eight profitable years. Walk me through what’s changed.”

“I appreciate everything Bancroft Holdings has done, Cash, but we’re moving in a different direction.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes closed against the glare of late afternoon sun bouncing off Manhattan’s steel and glass towers. Even through the heavily tinted windows of the car, it was blinding.

Six months ago, I had hired a woman, Summer, to protect my brother. A simple solution to a complicated problem. At least, it was supposed to be simple.

It turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Summer had gotten upset that my brother didn’t want to fake a relationship with her and had chosen someone else, even though the woman he chose was the love of his life.

Summer broke her NDA and told the world I paid her to date my brother. It ruined my credibility and tainted the family name. And I was dealing with the fallout.

Greg, my longtime driver cursed under his breath. We were stuck in traffic heading out to the Hamptons, where my brother wanted to meet. I was pissed, too, but it was just one of those situations that required a stiff drink to get over.

But that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

“A different direction,” I repeated.

“It’s not personal,” he said, which was corporate speak for it’s absolutely personal. “The board feels it’s time for fresh perspectives.”

Fresh perspectives. Did he honestly think I didn’t know corporate bullshit?

“The quarterly reports show a consistent upward trajectory,” I said, keeping my voice level even though I wanted to put my fist through something. “We exceeded projected returns by fourteen percent last quarter alone.”

“I know the numbers, Cash.”

“Then help me understand what I’m missing here. We’re making you money.”

Another pause. Longer this time. “I told you, it’s the Summer situation. It raised questions about judgment. About the Bancroft name and what it represents. My board. They have concerns.”

What a clusterfuck. I had thought I was doing the right thing by hiring a woman to play my brother’s fake girlfriend. Instead, I nearly blew up our entire family’s reputation when she turned blackmailer.

Austin and Melody salvaged it in the end. Mostly Melody, if I was being honest. She had the spine to take Summer down when I couldn’t see past my own arrogance. But the damage was done. The whispers started. And apparently, they hadn’t stopped.

“Your board has concerns,” I said. “What about you?”

“For what it’s worth, I pushed back hard. But I’m not the majority vote.”

“I understand. Thank you for the call, Henderson.”

“Cash—”

I ended the call before he could finish. There was nothing left to be said. The silence in the car felt oppressive but at least the traffic was thinning out. I reached out and adjusted the vent to direct the AC directly on my face.

Greg cleared his throat. “We’re about ten minutes out from the wine shop, Mr. Bancroft.”

Right. Wine. I’d almost forgotten.

I checked my watch, a vintage Patek Philippe that I preferred over the flashy Rolexes my brothers loved. I cursed under my breath. I was already twenty minutes behind schedule, not accounting for the stop I needed to make. Austin had explicitly said to not be late.

But showing up empty-handed to someone’s home was inexcusable, even if that someone was my idiot brother. Especially because it was not just his home. It was Melody’s too. She deserved better than my empty hands and foul mood.

Melody had surprised me these past six months. When Austin first introduced her, I’d expected another vapid influencer, someone who saw dollar signs and Bancroft in the same breath.

Once I got to know her, I was pleasantly surprised. She saw through my brother’s bullshit with laser precision. She was not afraid to call any of us on our crap. Most people were intimidated by the Bancroft name alone, and then, when they met the small army of Bancrofts, they cowered in fear.

Not Melody. She was good for Austin.

And wherever Melody was?

I shifted in my seat, irritation spiking through me for a different reason entirely. Wherever Melody is, Cleo will be.

The thought of her sent an uncomfortable jolt through my chest, something between anticipation and dread that I refused to examine too closely.

Cleo Quinn. Melody’s assistant/best-friend/apparent force of nature. Oh, and personal bodyguard and avenger. Purple hair. Loud opinions. And always a Diet Coke in her hand like it was a security blanket or weapon. I was never quite sure which.

She confused the hell out of me.

I didn’t get confused often. My world was rational, logical. I did not understand women who looked at me like they could see straight through my armor to whatever was underneath. Women like Cleo were dangerous. She had no fucks to give and couldn’t give a shit if she alienated me or anyone like me.

The car slowed. I glanced up to see we were at the wine shop that stocked bottles worth more than the average car. I was a regular customer. It was the perfect gift for clients, dinners with my growing family, and anyone else I needed to impress.

Ten minutes and one ridiculously expensive bottle of wine later, I was back in the car.

“Straight to the address you provided now, sir?” Greg asked.

“Yes. And Greg?” I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Drive fast. I’ll pay for any speeding tickets.”

He suppressed a smile. “Of course, Mr. Bancroft.”

Greg drove like he was hoping for a spot on a racing team. I didn’t mind. Whatever got me there fastest. I pulled out my phone again and started going through emails.

I had no idea why Austin wanted to meet out at the Hamptons.

I had shit to do. A crisis to manage. But he had insisted.

And with the manners of a honey badger, he had reminded me of the Summer Situation.

Capitalized. Because that woman deserved a fucking true crime documentary and that would be the title.

And now I was on the way to the beach. Yeah, me.

My phone buzzed. Austin again. WHERE ARE YOU?

I typed back: En route. ETA 30 minutes. Send a helicopter next time if you’re in a hurry.

Almost exactly thirty minutes later, Greg turned onto a private drive. I got my first look at Austin and Melody’s rental.

The Bancroft family had an estate in South Hampton. And several of my brothers and cousins owned houses as well. But Austin was renting for whatever reason. Maybe it was like trying on a pair of shoes. Would it work for them?

Austin wasn’t exaggerating about the size of the house. The place was modern, all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, perched on a slight rise that gave it some pretty amazing views of the beach below.

Greg pulled up to the front entrance and stopped. I hopped out of the car. Before he could offer to get my bag, I grabbed it myself, along with the wine, and waved him off. “Take the rest of the weekend, Greg. I’ll text you when I need to be picked up on Sunday.”

“Are you certain, sir? I’m happy to stay nearby.”

“I’m sure. Go spend time with your family.”

He looked genuinely pleased by this, which made me feel like an asshole for not offering more often. “Thank you, Mr. Bancroft. Enjoy your weekend.”

I watched him drive away, then turned toward the house. I wasn’t sure what the weekend was all about. I wasn’t the social Bancroft. Some of my brothers got together and hung out, but I was the guy with a stick up his ass. At least that was what they all thought.

And maybe they weren’t wrong.

The door swung open. Melody stepped out with a huge grin on her face. The woman was rarely without a smile. She was bright and bubbly, which normally I would find exhausting, but she broke you down in a hurry. She got under your skin and you just kind of had to like her.

“Cash!” She walked toward me. “I’m so glad you made it. Austin was starting to worry you’d bail.”

“I don’t bail. We just hit some traffic.”

“That’s what I told him.” She looked at the bottle of wine. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Yes, I did.” I handed her the bottle. “Good wine is a must.”

“That’s incredibly sweet. Thank you.”

Sweet. There’s a word I’ve never been called. Calculated, maybe. Strategic. Efficient. Never sweet.

“Come on,” Melody said, already heading inside. “Let me show you to your room. Then you can join us outside. Everyone’s here already.”

I followed her through a house that was exactly as stunning inside as it appeared from the outside. Open floor plan, white walls, ocean visible through every window. The kind of place designed for Instagram photos and lifestyle magazines, which made sense given Melody’s profession as an influencer.

We climbed the stairs, bypassing the second floor and heading up to the third.

It was basically a master suite that had been repurposed as a guest room.

It was huge and felt like it was a bit much for me.

Was I being given preferential treatment?

Doubtful. Maybe they felt bad for me because they knew I was getting my ass handed to me.

“There’s no guest house, I guess?” I asked with a wry smile.

Melody laughed. “You could pitch a tent on the beach. I’m sure sandfleas aren’t as bad as they say.”

I surveyed the room. King bed, private balcony, ensuite bathroom, and a large sitting area. It was objectively nicer than ninety percent of hotel rooms I’d stayed in, and I’d stayed in a lot of hotel rooms.

“This will work,” I told her.

She snorted. “Sorry you have to lower your standards.”

“I suppose I’ll survive.”

“Good. Come down when you’re ready. We’re on the back deck.”

She left me alone. I unpacked my essentials.

Toiletries in the bathroom, clothes hung in the closet, laptop and phone chargers plugged in.

Then I changed out of my suit into something more appropriate for a beach weekend.

My khaki pants, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and blessedly, no tie.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Gray eyes stared back. Almost all of my brothers had hazel eyes. Mine were gray like metal. Maybe that was why I always felt like a man made of steel. Not like Superman, but damn close. I looked away and headed downstairs to join everyone.

The kitchen was the heart of the house. A massive island stretched down the center, loaded with appetizers that looked professionally catered. Melody was there with Austin, who was grinning like he’d won the lottery just by existing in the same room as his fiancée.

He winked at me like he had a secret I wasn’t privy to. God knew what that could be.

Kent, one of my many brothers, and his wife, Sylvie, occupied one corner. Sylvie cradled their newborn daughter, Tiana.

“Wanna hold your niece?” Kent asked.

“Nope. Cute kid, but no thanks.”

Rodney was there too, unfortunately.

“Hey, you made it,” Rodney said. “I figured you’d be looking for another fake fiancée for another brother.”

Rodney was not a Bancroft. He was a dipshit that my brother called his best friend. I didn’t get the appeal, but whatever. He wasn’t my friend.

I didn’t acknowledge his comment and went straight for the fridge, suddenly needing a drink more than I needed air. Austin had told me the weekend was strictly no work. No talking about work. No doing work.

Apparently, the stick up my ass had reached toxic levels and he was demanding I come out here for what I assumed was some kind of intervention.

I’m going to pretend I’m the kind of person who knows how to relax. I should be in my office, doing damage control and figuring out how to stop the bleeding before Dad notices just how badly I screwed up.

But I’m here.

I twisted the cap off the beer and felt that shift in the air that usually preceded a hurricane. I didn’t have to guess what the cause of that atmospheric change was. I turned and there she was.

Cyclone Cleo walked into the kitchen with chaos rolling off her in waves.

Her hair was different from the last time I saw her.

It was mostly black now, with a shock of vibrant purple framing one side of her face.

She was wearing massive sparkly earrings that caught the light and a black dress with fishnets that shouldn’t work but absolutely did.

I let my gaze travel up, taking in the details I told myself I wasn’t supposed to notice. The way the dress hugged her ample curves. The rings on her fingers. She was wearing at least ten, maybe more. The red lipstick that was always perfectly applied.

I intended to sweep my gaze back down and complete the assessment but then our eyes met. And I was trapped.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Cleo looked at me and I forgot how to function like a normal human being. Those deep, dark eyes pinned me in place. For a moment that stretched too long, I couldn’t look away.

Her red lips curved up at the corners. “Who invited Captain Crunch the Numbers?”

And just like that, the spell was broken. Irritation flooded in where fascination had been. I was back on familiar ground.

It was going to be a very long weekend.