Chapter 16
CLEO
The first ring dragged me up from a dead sleep. I reached out from under the covers without opening my eyes, found my phone by touch alone, then found the magic button on the side and shut it off.
I didn’t know what time it was, but it was dark out still.
That was all I needed to know. A few months ago, my number had somehow gotten put out into the world.
There was a flurry of annoying calls. It had subsided but I still got the occasional one here and there.
Unknown disruptions got one warning. That was the rule.
If they called again, I was going to blow my whistle in their damn ear.
My head hit the pillow again. The phone rang a second time.
“Son of a bitch!”
I searched for the whistle I used to keep on my nightstand. It was not there.
I answered the call.
“Someone better be dead,” I said, my voice a full octave lower than normal. “I’m not even kidding. There needs to be an actual fatality to justify this bullshit. If you’re calling for Kevin or Carl or whoever the hell put this number on Instagram, I will find you. I will hurt you.”
“Good morning.”
My eyes popped open. The voice was smooth. Deep. Sexy. Impossibly familiar. My brain was foggy and sleep addled and completely unprepared for that voice.
Cash.
I sat up. The clock on my nightstand said 3:04 a.m. I shoved my hair out of my face and tried to assemble my thoughts into something coherent.
“Why are you calling me at three in the morning?” I asked. “Did you get stranded? Did someone steal your wallet?” I squinted at my wall, still not entirely convinced I was awake. Was this some kind of weird erotic dream? Like he was going to walk through my bedroom door at any second.
“I’m not stranded.”
“You’re probably very easy to pickpocket. You have this whole easy-mark look. Very robbable. And obviously rich, so you should probably check and see if you still have your watch. They’re smooth. They can take your shirt off and you wouldn’t even know it.”
“Are you finished?”
“I’m barely started. Did you lose your passport? Did you accidentally join a tour group and can’t find your way back? Are you currently standing outside the Colosseum wondering how to get back to your hotel? Is there a mime teasing you?”
“Seriously, are you finished?”
I sighed. “I’m trying to figure out why you seem confused that we are not in the same time zone. It’s three, Cash. In the morning. Are you dying?”
“No.”
“Are you having an existential crisis?”
“I don’t think so.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and settled in. “If this is a booty call, I’m going to remind you we are not on the same continent.”
“I would never disrespect you with a booty call.”
That made me smile. “So, what’s the emergency?”
“Not an emergency exactly.” A pause like he was choosing his words.
“I’ve booked you a first-class flight to Rome.
Your driver will be there in—” Another pause, shorter, like he was checking the time.
“Forty-seven minutes. Pack what you need for the plane. Everything else will be ready for you at the hotel when you land.”
I heard the words. I processed them in the order they arrived. But they didn’t make sense.
“Huh? I think we have a bad connection. Or my braincells aren’t connecting. There is definitely a bad connection somewhere.”
“You’re coming to Rome.” His voice was exactly the same. All calm and certain, like he was confirming a meeting time rather than rearranging my entire life at three in the morning. “I’ll see you in ten hours. Try to sleep on the flight.”
He hung up. I held the phone in front of my face and stared at it. Then I started laughing.
I sounded crazy. Maniacal. I sat in the dark of my apartment at three in the morning laughing by myself like a person who’d genuinely lost it, because what?
Who does that? Cash Bancroft just called me from Rome and told me a driver was coming in forty-seven minutes and I should pack for the plane like that was a normal sequence of events that happened to normal people.
It took me about ninety seconds to remember that for Bancrofts, it probably was.
I pressed my hand over my mouth and made myself breathe. Okay. Options. I had options.
I could text him and tell him I couldn’t hop on a plane in the middle of the night.
I had responsibilities. I had things to do.
Flying to Rome on less than an hour’s notice was crazy.
It was objectively insane. I had a job. I had a best friend getting married in less than four weeks.
I had approximately three hundred things on my to-do list, none of which were flying to Rome.
I picked up my phone to text him exactly that. Except what if I did the crazy thing? What if I hopped on a plane with a basic carry-on?
Everything will be ready for you at the hotel.
What hotel? What did that mean, everything? What was everything? Was there a wardrobe situation? Was there a plan? What was he doing that required me specifically? And why was it so urgent?
I sat with the not-knowing for approximately fifteen seconds. Then I threw back the covers.
“Okay,” I said to my empty bedroom. “Fuck it.”
I was in the shower before I could stop myself. I could say with almost certainty I would never get the chance to do something like this again. When offered the chance to go to Rome, take it.
My shower took all of about sixty-two seconds. I hit the hotspots, conditioned my hair, and brushed my teeth while the spray rinsed my hair.
I dried off and dressed in leggings and a hoodie, then packed in record time. I grabbed the most important things first. Makeup. Panties. Bras. And then I added a couple dresses. I had no idea what I was going to be doing there.
And then it dawned on me. I didn’t even know how long I was going to be there. These were details he should have told me. I didn’t have time to stop and text because I trusted him when he said the car would be arriving in twenty-two minutes now.
Clothes packed. Carry-on packed with my camera tucked inside. I felt like Cyclone Cleo by the time I wheeled my suitcase to the door. I was outside my building with my bag over my shoulder with four minutes to spare.
I was still breathing hard when a black car pulled up to a stop. The driver hopped out and grabbed my suitcase. He was either my ride or a thief.
“Ms. Quinn?” he asked.
“That’s me,” I said with relief.
I got into the back seat and exhaled, trying not to think what was waiting for me at the end of this car ride. My driver informed me we were heading to catch a flight at JFK.
I spent the ride with my face turned toward the window and my thoughts doing laps.
The lights blurred past and I tried to figure out if I was doing something brave or something stupid.
Either way, it was reckless. I looked like a girl who did this kind of thing all the time, but really, I was a pretty steady person.
Then again, the best memories were usually made with spontaneous decisions. I so hoped I didn’t end up regretting this. Traveling alone was terrifying. And I had no idea what to expect in Rome.
My driver dropped me off and once again unloaded my suitcase. The first-class check-in was absurdly easy. That had to be a good sign. I was through security and at the gate with enough time to get a coffee and send the text to Melody I’d been composing in my head since the car.
Me: Before you panic, I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m at the airport.
I sent the message and started another one. No one wanted to read a book the second they opened their eyes.
Me: Cash called. He booked me a ticket. I’m waiting to board a flight to Rome. I will text you when I land.
I put my phone down and sipped my coffee.
The adrenaline was waning. I grabbed my phone again, texting Cash this time.
Me: Can you give me any information? Like, I don’t know. How long am I going to be there? What am I doing there? You didn’t tell me what to pack, so I have no idea if I packed right.
Cash: You’re fine. Enjoy your flight. See you soon.
I rolled my eyes. Such a man. Did he not understand how important it was to pack the right outfits? He better believe I was going to be counting on him to buy me what I needed.
I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to get a better explanation from him until I joined him on another continent. When my phone vibrated in my hand, I expected it to be Cash. It was Melody Facetiming me.
I answered it, putting my earbud in. “Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you’d see the messages later when you woke up.”
Her mouth dropped open when she saw where I was. “You’re actually at the airport? You weren’t joking around?”
“I’m here at the gate.” I smiled slightly and shook my head in disbelief. “Flying first class. To freaking Rome.”
“What the hell?” She was smiling too, eyes wide with surprise.
“I know.” I laughed. “I’m grabbing the bull by the horns. Listen.” I leaned closer to my phone screen. “I don’t want to miss a single second of wedding stuff. You have to FaceTime me for everything. Every decision. Every vendor meeting. Every time you even think about flowers or napkin colors.”
“Cleo, we’ll be fine.” She also leaned in close to her screen, like she was searching my face to see if I was still sane. “I’m more worried about you, running off to Rome on a whim in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I paused. “Unless Rome sucks and I hate it there. Then I’ll send you the SOS to get me back here.”
Melody laughed. “It’s a deal. Although I’m pretty sure Rome is a magical place.” Her expression softened. “You’re really going?”
“I really am.” I took a breath. “But I promise I won’t be gone more than a couple days. I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”
“I’ll notice but that’s okay.” She grinned. “I also expect a lot of pictures from you.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I said with a chuckle.
“Go have an adventure,” Melody said. “Just come back safe.”
“Obviously.”
“And Cleo?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
I laughed. “It’s Rome, not a war zone.”
“I meant with Cash.”
“I will.”
She groaned. “I have to go puke. I’m not taking you with me.”
“Sorry. I’ll text you when I land.”
“You better.”
They announced first-class boarding. I grabbed my bag and joined the line, feeling the weight of what I was doing settle over me.
I’m actually doing this. I’m getting on a plane to Rome because Cash Bancroft called me at three in the morning and told me to.
The first-class seat was amazing. Wide, private, equipped with a blanket and a bottle of water already waiting.
Enough legroom that I didn’t have to perform the usual economy origami just to sit down.
I settled in, tucked my bag under the seat, and pulled the blanket over my lap, feeling like a princess.
The plane began to move. I watched out the window as we taxied down the runway, gathering speed. We took flight, suddenly climbing, and the lights of New York City disappeared.
My heart was galloping in my chest. I was terrified, but this was also the most alive I’d felt in a long time.
This trip was mine. Not Melody’s. Not even Cash’s. Whatever he needed me in Rome for, I was going to make sure to carve out time for myself. See what I want to see, eat what I want to eat, and have some experiences to remember.
Just Cleo Quinn in Rome, taking up her full amount of space.