Chapter 6
CLEO
This was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea. But I still followed Cash Bancroft up the stairs to his suite on the third floor. My heart was doing some weird donkey-kick thing against my chest. I was choosing to attribute the sporadic rhythm to the climb rather than the man leading the way.
The top floor of the beach house was insane.
Like, genuinely, absurdly, obscenely nice.
It was the entire sprawling third floor converted into what could only be described as a master suite on steroids.
Vaulted ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides.
A king bed that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of driftwood.
A sitting area with furniture that looked gorgeous and comfortable, which was a pretty difficult feat.
And the views. God, the views.
The ocean stretched out endlessly. The beach below was empty except for the solar lights softly illuminating the path from the house. The sky was absolutely packed with stars, more than I ever saw in the city.
I wondered why Melody and Austin didn’t take the room? Then I remembered she was pregnant, and knowing Austin, he was going to be very overprotective. She would never climb stairs again. At least not while she was pregnant.
I stood there soaking it all in while Cash moved to the mini-bar area tucked into one corner. He pulled out a bottle of prosecco from the small fridge, and I watched as he expertly removed the foil and wire cage.
The cork popped with a satisfying sound, and he poured two glasses, the bubbles catching the light from the single lamp in the corner. It was good lighting. Soft. None of that LED nonsense. The kind of lighting that made a girl look nice instead of washed out.
I shook off the thought. It was my job to notice lighting but I wasn’t working. I was just having a drink with a super-hot dude that I despised. Most of the time.
He handed me a glass without a word. I took a sip. It was crisp and cold and exactly what I needed right then.
I turned slightly, catching Cash’s reflection in a large mirror mounted on the wall. His back was to me as he set down the bottle and reached up to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. I couldn’t look away.
His fingers moved to his cuffs. He rolled up his sleeves one at a time, methodically folding the fabric until it was just below his elbows, exposing his forearms.
Yummm-mmyyy.
The word echoed in my head as I watched the muscles in his forearms flex with each movement. Why were forearms so hot? Biceps were not what caught my eye when I checked out a man. It was forearms. I usually liked mine with a tat or two, but his were very nice. Veiny. Strong.
I could see the way his shoulder blades moved beneath his white shirt, the fabric pulling taut across his back.
He was built like someone who didn’t just sit behind a desk all day.
There was actual strength there, actual definition.
The kind of body that required maintenance and effort and probably a personal trainer who cost more per session than I spent on groceries in a month.
I shook my head at myself, taking another sip to cool the sudden heat creeping up my neck. Get it together, Quinn.
He had a heart of ice that was as hard and unyielding as his body. Good eye candy, sure. Good wasn’t adequate. Excellent. Exquisite. Stunning.
Unfortunately, there was nothing beneath the surface of that work of art.
He was all spreadsheets and profit margins and that terrifying Bancroft efficiency that treated human emotion like an inconvenient variable in an otherwise perfect equation.
He was as deep as a puddle. I needed a man deeper than an ocean.
I wanted someone that surprised me every day and wasn’t afraid to let loose.
That was not Cash.
“Come sit,” Cash said, gesturing to two comfortable-looking chairs positioned near the open balcony doors.
I followed him over and settled into one chair while he took the other. The breeze coming off the ocean was refreshing.
“Four weeks,” I said, breaking the silence. “That’s not a lot of time to plan a wedding.”
“No,” Cash agreed, swirling his bubbly. “It’s not.”
“Are you going to be around to help?”
“I don’t have time for wedding planning,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be overseas for the better part of the next two weeks once we get back to the city.”
I sipped my drink. It was the most he’d ever said to me that didn’t involve veiled insults or grumpiness in general.
“One of our biggest deals is about to fall through, and Dad is sending me in to salvage it.”
“Damage control,” I said.
“Welcome to my new life.”
“Because of the Summer thing?” I saw the vein on the side of his head pop.
“It’s become a problem,” he said, sounding exhausted. “The Bancroft reputation has been through the meat grinder lately. Partnerships are backing out. Shareholders are getting nervous. I’m on cleanup duty.”
“You’re the one who orchestrated the Summer thing. You’re lucky my girl was there.”
He shot me a dirty look. “Your girl being there is what made the Summer thing a thing.”
I leaned back and shook my head. “Stop it. You can’t deny it was fate that got those two together. They’re happy.”
He snorted but didn’t argue. Probably because he knew there was no point. I was right. He knew it. The whole family knew it.
I studied him for a moment, this man who carried the weight of an empire on his shoulders. “You know, as a master social media strategist who knows a thing or two about public opinion and cancel culture, I can tell you it will pass. It always does.”
“Melody’s situation,” he said, and there was understanding in his voice.
“Exactly. I have some tips and tricks. If you want them.”
He turned to face me. I was caught off guard by the genuine interest in his expression. “I’m all ears.”
I smiled sweetly, unable to resist. “Be anyone but you and they’ll come crawling back.”
For a second, I thought I’d gone too far.
His face was completely blank. I was preparing for him to kick me out of his suite and possibly out of the house entirely.
I didn’t take him for the dramatic type, but if he tossed his prosecco at me, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Although I would definitely be tossing mine right back at him.
But then he laughed. Actually laughed.
It wasn’t a polite chuckle or a forced social nicety. It was a real, genuine laugh that transformed his entire face. The hard lines softened. His eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked younger. Lighter. Human.
“Nobody dares talk to me like that,” he said, still smiling.
“Then everyone around you is doing you a disservice.” I cracked a smile of my own.
It felt like I had just conquered a boss in a game and had moved on to the next level.
In Cash’s case, that meant I was seeing the man under the scales and horns.
“Honestly? Someone needs to tell you when you’re being insufferable. Consider it a public service.”
God, he had a nice laugh.
Was that the first time I’d heard it? No, that couldn’t be. But I was having trouble remembering another time, which seemed impossible. Surely, he’d laughed before. Surely, I’d witnessed it.
But this felt different. This felt real. Was he drunk?
I tried to remember how much he had drunk by the fire. I was pretty sure he nursed the same beer the whole time. And before that maybe a beer or two.
So, not drunk.
The conversation shifted naturally. We no longer felt like enemies. We weren’t friends, but we were somewhere in between, which meant we could have an actual conversation without sniping at each other.
We discussed the baby announcement, the wedding timeline, and the logistics of pulling off something meaningful in such a short window. I finished my glass, and without asking, Cash got up, grabbed the bottle, and refilled both of our glasses.
“I always dreamed Melody and I would hit the motherhood milestone together,” I said with a sigh. And then I froze. Holy shit. Did I just say that out loud?
Slow down on the alcohol, Cleo.
The words hung in the air, more honest than I’d intended.
“You want kids,” Cash said. It wasn’t a question.
“Eventually. Yeah.” I took another drink. “I’m overjoyed for her. I am. It’s just…” I trailed off, shaking my head. I felt too vulnerable. I barely knew the man, and I was about to spill my guts about my insecurities and failures? “Never mind.”
I stood up abruptly. I needed air he wasn’t breathing. I walked out onto the balcony, and the view hit me all over again.
The ocean. The stars. The moon high above, painting everything in silver light.
I felt like I was standing on the edge of my own life. Like all I had to do was reach out and take a star from the sky for myself. Just grab it. Claim it. Make it mine.
But how? How did I do that when I was so tangled up in someone else’s orbit?
Cash came out behind me. “You feel like you’re being left behind, don’t you?” he said quietly.
My heart started to beat faster. Harder. Like it was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Resentful?” he added.
Ouch. But yes. Yes. That was exactly what I felt, and I hated myself for it. What kind of person resented their best friend’s happiness?
I considered lying. Brushing it off. Making a joke to deflect.
But I was tired of deflecting. And if anyone could understand everyone around him getting a happily ever after while he was still alone, it would be him.
His brothers were marrying off in rapid succession.
Popping out babies and carrying on while the oldest was left to watch it all happen.
I did know a little something about the Bancroft family. Secondhand, of course, from what Melody told me.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?”
“Go ahead.”
I took a breath, the ocean air filling my lungs. “I sometimes wonder where I’d be in my life if I hadn’t given so much of myself to helping Melody build hers.”
The silence that followed was deafening. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, could feel the weight of that confession settling between us like a stone.
I had said too much. I looked like an asshole. A terrible friend. A selfish, small person who couldn’t be happy for someone she loved. I had never ever spoken that thought aloud. And I just said it to the one person who wouldn’t hesitate to use it against me.
Cash stepped closer, leaning against the balcony railing beside me. He was quiet for a long moment. I braced myself for judgment. For disappointment. For confirmation that I was exactly as awful as I feared.
Then he surprised me by smiling. Not mockingly. Not condescendingly.
“Can I tell you something you’ve probably never let yourself hear?” he asked.
I nodded, waiting with bated breath.
“You would probably be more successful than you are now,” he said, his voice matter of fact. “Plain and simple.”
My heart raced faster. Because that was it. That was exactly the feeling that had been growing in the pit of my stomach for the last year. The thought I kept pushing down, burying under layers of guilt and loyalty and love for my best friend.
The question I’d been too afraid to ask out loud.
And here was Cash Bancroft—fact-driven, data-obsessed, results-oriented—saying it like it was the most obvious truth in the world.
“You’re talented,” he continued, still looking out at the ocean. “You’re creative. You have instincts about branding and strategy that most people spend years trying to develop. And you’ve been using all of that to build someone else’s empire instead of your own.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except stand there and let his words sink in.
“I’m not saying you made the wrong choice,” he added quickly. “Loyalty matters. Friendship matters. And clearly, you and Melody have something special. But…”
“But?” I prompted, my voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze focused on the horizon. “But if you had spent all that time and energy focusing on yourself? Building your own brand? Pursuing your own vision?”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Because I could finish it myself.
Maybe I would have met my other half by now.
Maybe I would be further along in my own career.
Maybe I’d be on the way to starting my family, and Melody and I could have done this together.
We’d be pregnant at the same time. We’d be building our empires side by side instead of me always trailing three steps behind.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.