Chapter 21
CASH
She didn’t know I was there. That was the only reason I let myself look for as long as I did.
She was standing at the balcony railing with her back to the room, facing Rome in the evening light. She had no idea I’d come to find her when I saw the team leaving. So I stood in the doorway and drank in the sight of her.
The dress moved slightly in the warm air coming off the city.
Her hair was up in a way that left her neck bare, and the single shoulder the dress didn’t cover caught the last of the light.
She was completely still, which was unusual for Cleo.
It felt significant, like watching something in its natural state that normally moved too fast to see clearly.
I had thought she looked extraordinary when she tried on the dress initially.
But now, it was different. She was a remarkable woman.
I haven’t even seen her face yet and I already know she’s going to blow me away.
I need to prepare myself. I don’t want to jump on her or say something stupid.
She’s having a moment and I don’t want to ruin that.
I gave myself another five seconds to absorb all of it. This was a rare moment and I wanted to make sure I had every detail committed to memory.
And then I went to get the champagne. The bottle had been chilling since that morning. I opened it quietly in the kitchen area, poured two glasses, and returned to the room. I made enough noise to alert her to my presence. I wanted her to think I was just getting my first look.
She heard me this time and turned. The movement sent the dress doing that thing it did. I kept my eyes on her face. Hell, I couldn’t look away. She had dramatic makeup, but not quite the Cleo way. Dark eyes, red lips, but it was done a little differently. Toned down and amped up at the same time.
I went speechless. She was staring at me, waiting for me to say something.
“You look—” I started and then revised. “You’re ready.”
“Very diplomatic.”
“Champagne?” I asked, holding out one of the glasses.
She took it, sipped, and nodded. “Mr. Bancroft, you have excellent taste in bubbly. Very crisp.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I do, but I am not drinking more than two glasses. I don’t want a hangover. Not so soon after the last one.”
I chuckled. “I’ll try and remind you of that when you go for a third.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring I had gotten delivered earlier. I held it out for her to see.
She scowled. “What’s that?”
“A ring. Given you’ve got ten of them on, I thought you would know what it was.”
“Har. Har. That looks like an engagement ring. It’s very sparkly.”
It was a significant stone. Round cut, clean setting, the kind of ring that communicated wealth. Carson had gotten it from a jeweler the hotel kept on call for exactly these situations, which said something about the clientele.
“Give me your hand,” I said.
She extended her left hand. I removed the ring that was occupying the place I needed and slid the diamond onto her ring finger. It fit. She stared at it.
“Now you look the part,” I said.
She held out her hand and let the stone catch the light. “That is one hell of a rock, Bancroft.”
“Only the best for my bride-to-be.”
She giggled softly.
I raised my glass and she raised hers.
“To the partnership,” I said. “And to finding out what Rossi is actually protecting.”
“To that,” she agreed.
We drank. Giulia appeared to take a final look at Cleo before we left.
“You did great,” Cleo told her. “Thank you for the dress. I know you were saving it for someone else.”
“No, no.” Giulia shook her head. “Someone rejected it because it wasn’t their dress. It’s yours.”
“Thank you, Giulia. Will you take a quick picture of us?”
“Is that necessary?” I asked.
“Completely.” Cleo adjusted her position near the railing, then reached out and touched my arm. “Come here.”
I moved into the frame. We stood close, with Rome’s skyline acting as a backdrop. Giulia took several shots.
“Thank you,” Cleo told her.
“You’re welcome,” Giulia said and left the suite.
“These are going on your socials?” I asked.
“Tomorrow. After I’ve built the strategy.
” Cleo looked through the images with the assessing eye of someone who did this professionally.
“I’m thinking a miniseries. Rome content—the city, the event tonight, the shopping.
I want it to feel like a narrative rather than individual posts.
Behind the scenes of something. Life moving forward. ” She was talking more quickly now.
This was the Cleo I knew. All chaos and energy. I couldn’t imagine what it must look like in her brain. Just brain cells pinging off each other.
“I’ll keep the client stuff vague, obviously, but the rest of it?
I can make this whole trip into something that launches what I’m building.
People respond to moments that feel real.
” She gestured at the balcony. “This is real. Gorgeous. I’m going to do mine differently from Melody’s.
I know that. Mine is going to be authentic. None of that posed stuff.”
She stopped. I’d been watching her face. She noticed.
“What?” she asked. “Is something wrong? Lipstick on my teeth? Did I smear my eyeliner?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I was thinking about the beach. The kiss. How we had started something that we didn’t get to finish. I hated leaving anything unfinished.
I tilted her chin up with two fingers. Her breath hitched. Her eyes were locked on mine. I waited a beat. Waited for her to pull away. She didn’t. So, I kissed her. Gently at first. She held herself perfectly still for exactly two seconds before she kissed me back. Then it wasn’t gentle.
My hand moved from her chin to the nape of her neck. She made a small sound that I was going to be thinking about for the rest of my life. That noise would be accompanying any alone time fantasies.
She tasted like green apples. The champagne. I sucked on her tongue, wanting more. Her body melted against mine. My teeth toyed with her bottom lip, pulling a little groan from her. I loved all the noises the woman made.
What sound would she make when I pushed inside her?
Oh shit. My cock heard that and he was gearing up for action.
I carefully pulled away. If I don’t stop now, all the makeup is going to be ruined and her dress is going to be shredded.
“What was that for?” she asked. Her voice was steady. Her eyes weren’t.
I felt my composure slip. I licked my lips, still tasting the champagne. “I’ve been thinking about it since the Hamptons,” I said. “I needed to remember how you tasted.”
“Oh, I didn’t know we were tasting each other.” She grabbed my shoulder and jerked me against her, kissing me again.
It was better the second time, which shouldn’t have been possible but was.
Her lips were fire against mine, taking control in a way I didn’t anticipate.
I was usually the one leading, but Cleo’s fingers dug into my shoulder as she pressed herself against me.
The kiss deepened instantly, her tongue sliding against mine.
I could feel her smile against my mouth as she took what she wanted.
“My turn,” she whispered against my lips.
I let her lead, curious where she would take us. My hands found her waist, feeling the smooth silk of the dress beneath my fingers.
She bit my bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make me groan. The sound seemed to encourage her. Her hand slid up to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, gripping just tight enough to hold me exactly where she wanted me.
“You like that?” she murmured.
“Yes,” I managed, my voice sounding very similar to a man that had been gargling gravel.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes heavy-lidded but calculating.
Then she was kissing me again, slower this time, more deliberate.
Her body pressed fully against mine, the curves I’d been trying not to stare at all day now molded against me.
I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric.
I was losing control rapidly. My hands slid lower, tracing the curve of her hips, wanting to explore every inch of her.
I was very aware that we had somewhere to be and very uninterested in that fact for approximately thirty seconds. She pulled back, laughing.
I stared at her, my cock pulsing in time with my heartbeat. “I’m not sure laughing is the reaction I was hoping for.”
“Oh, the reaction you were hoping for is there. Trust me.”
“Good.”
“I have to fix my lipstick,” she said. “So do you. I think you’re wearing more than I am.”
She reached up and wiped the corner of my mouth with her thumb. The casual intimacy of the gesture had me wanting to tell Rossi to fuck all the way off. That plans had changed.
She disappeared inside. I stood on the balcony alone for a moment and let my pulse settle back toward something normal. I adjusted myself, silently apologizing to my dick for the false start.
Five minutes later, we were put back together and making our way out of the suite. The car was waiting in the courtyard. The driver held the door while Cleo and I slid in. She was very graceful when she wasn’t in tornado mode.
The gala was at a hotel twenty minutes across the city. It was the epitome of old wealth. Grand facade. Stone steps. Uniformed staff at every door. We pulled up and I came around to her side to help her out of the car.
She took my arm like we had done this very thing a hundred times before. Again, I was surprised by how easily she slid into the role of a regal queen. Shoulders back. Chin up. A woman who owned her space. She knew she looked beautiful. I didn’t have to tell her.
Should I tell her? Shit. I had been so caught up I’d never actually said the words. I would remedy that soon.
We walked in like we owned the place. I was used to moving through rooms with the confidence of the Bancroft name. Cleo matched my energy flawlessly.
The ballroom was exactly what I expected for such a massive event. High ceilings and massive chandeliers. Significant flower arrangements. A string quartet making itself unobtrusive in the corner. Two hundred people dressed in their finest with enough diamonds and gold to buy a small country.
Every head turned when we walked in. Not quickly. It wasn’t that kind of crowd. But I felt it. We dominated the room. Conversations paused. Eyes tracked our movement.
Cleo moved closer to me. Her hand tightened fractionally on my arm.
“Is it always like this? Do people always look at you like this?”
I looked down at her. At the huge earrings dangling and catching the soft overhead lighting. The black silk draping her body.
I chuckled softly and settled my arm around her waist, drawing her closer.
“Cleo,” I said, my mouth near her ear, “they’re not looking at me.”