Chapter 45
CASH
I’d been planning this for three days. Which was ridiculous, considering I’d negotiated billion-dollar deals with less preparation. But this felt more important than any contract I’d ever signed. This was Cleo. This was proving to her that I meant what I’d said about courting her properly.
This was showing her what life with me could look like.
I didn’t want to miss a single detail. I needed her to know she was the most important thing in the world to me, which meant I would move heaven and earth for her. I promised her wooing. I was wooing to the twelfth degree.
I checked the dining table for the fifth time. Candles—lit. Wine—breathing. Music—playing softly in the background, something sultry and jazzy that the woman at the wine shop had recommended. Flowers—white peonies, because I know how much she loved them.
The food was almost ready. I’d spent the afternoon cooking. Actually cooking, not ordering in and pretending I’d made it. Herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, a salad with dressing that I did buy. It had pomegranate in it and was so good. I loved it and hoped Cleo would as well.
My phone buzzed. Downstairs. Doorman is judging my outfit.
I smiled and texted back: Tell him you’re with me. He’ll behave.
Used your name. He asked if you needed security.
Come up. I’ll fire him tomorrow.
Don’t you dare. He’s sweet.
The elevator chimed a minute later. I opened the door before she could knock.
She was wearing a sundress. Yellow with tiny white flowers, something bright and summery that made her look like she’d brought the sunshine inside with her.
Her purple hair was freshly dyed. She’d done her makeup, but not too much.
Just enough to make her eyes look even darker, her lips even more kissable.
And her sandals were brilliant purple. The contrast with the yellow was so Cleo.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” I pulled her inside and kissed her. Long enough to mess up her lipstick. “You look beautiful. Sunshine. My own personal sun.”
“You’re biased.”
“Completely.” I took her hand and led her toward the dining room. “Come on. I made dinner.”
She stopped in the doorway. “Cash, wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can I take a minute to just look? This place is crazy.”
“Too much?”
“Can I get the two-dollar tour for two cents? Although I’m guessing you could charge two hundred dollars for the tour.”
“Let me get you a drink first?”
“Like a bottle of water? Should I put on my walking shoes?”
I laughed. “Very funny.”
I led Cleo through the foyer and into the wide-open floor plan that was pretty much the entire floor.
“This is ridiculous,” she breathed, turning in a slow circle. “Like, actually ridiculous.”
“It’s just a place,” I said, trying to downplay it. I’d never given much thought to my home before. It was a space I slept in, worked in. A good investment in Manhattan real estate. But seeing it through her eyes made me suddenly self-conscious.
“Just a place?” She laughed. “Cash, this foyer is bigger than my entire apartment.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“Is it though?” She ran her hand along the marble-topped console table. “Okay, tour me. I want to see everything.”
I took her hand and led her through the main floor. “Living room,” I said, gesturing to the open space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “Dining room. Kitchen.”
The kitchen was all gleaming stainless steel and white marble, designed by some famous chef whose name I couldn’t remember. I barely used it. Most of my meals were takeout or business dinners. But today it had been my workshop. Today I used appliances I didn’t even know I had.
“This is a kitchen designed for someone who actually cooks,” Cleo said, running her hand over the massive island. “Do you actually cook?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Not often enough to justify all this.”
“But you cooked today.”
“I did.”
She smiled, and something in my chest expanded. “For me.”
“For you,” I confirmed.
She leaned up and kissed me, just a quick brush of lips. “Show me more.”
We continued through the first floor. The media room I rarely used, the office where I spent most of my time, the guest suite that had never hosted a guest.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, “but it doesn’t feel lived in.”
“I’m not here much.”
“Even when you are here, I bet you’re working.”
She had me there.
“Come on,” I said, leading her to the staircase. “Second floor.”
The stairs curved up to the private areas. My bedroom, the master bath, a second office, and the rooms I’d never found a purpose for.
“More offices?” she teased as we reached the top.
I guided her down the hallway. “Guest rooms. Three of them.”
She peeked into each one, all perfectly decorated, all completely impersonal. Like hotel rooms waiting for occupants who never arrived.
“Do your brothers stay here?”
“They all have their own places.” I shrugged. “I don’t really have guests.”
We walked back downstairs. She paused to look at the table I had set.
“Perfect.” She turned to look at me, eyes shining. “You did all this?”
“I wanted to.” I pulled out her chair. “Sit. I’ll get the food.”
I served us both, trying not to look nervous as she took her first bite. I’d followed the recipe exactly. Timed everything. Tasted as I went.
But cooking for someone you loved was different than cooking for yourself.
“This is incredible,” she said. “Like, restaurant quality incredible.”
Relief flooded through me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. When did you learn to cook like this?”
“YouTube, mostly. My brother Dane gave me pointers.”
“Oh yeah, Edge. Duh. I forgot your brother owned that place. Why didn’t you just have him make the meal?”
“I wanted to do this myself. For you.”
Her expression softened. “Why?”
“Because this is what I want our life to look like.” I gestured around the room. “This. Us. Sitting down for dinner together. Talking about our days. Being present with each other instead of distracted by work or obligations. I want to choose you, Cleo. Every single time. For the rest of my life.”
She set down her fork. “Cash, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I took a deep breath. “I have a whole year ahead of me. A sabbatical. Time to figure out who I am outside of being Armand Bancroft’s son or a Bancroft Holdings executive. And I know what I want to do with it.”
“What?”
“Live. Actually live.” I squeezed her hand. “I want to travel. Not for business. For pleasure. I want to see places I’ve never been. Try things I’ve always been too busy for. Spend time with my family without feeling like I have to be on all the time.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“I want you to come with me. Not all the time. I know you have your business to build. But when you can. When you want to.” I brought her hand to my lips. “I want to cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished. Make you feel like you’re the most important thing in my life.”
“I feel like that already.”
“Good. Because you are.” I smiled. “But I’m going to keep proving it anyway.”
We ate slowly, talking between bites. The food was damn good. I surprised myself. And I was definitely going to give Dane shit. He made it seem like cooking was equivalent to playing in the NFL. If I could do it, I was pretty sure anyone could.
We finished dinner and I started clearing plates. Cleo immediately stood to help.
“Sit,” I said. “You’re my guest.”
“I’m your girlfriend. I can help with dishes.”
“Girlfriend,” I repeated, testing the word. “I like that.”
“Better than fake fiancée?”
“Infinitely better.”
She followed me into the kitchen despite my protests. I rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher while she rummaged around finding plastic wrap and storing leftovers.
She bent over to pull out a container and I couldn’t resist. Her bent-over form was too tempting. I moved behind her, pressing my body against hers, my hands finding her hips.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Helping,” I murmured, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Is that a problem?”
She straightened, her back pressing against my chest, her head falling back onto my shoulder. “Not a problem. Just wondering if we’re going to get to dessert.”
“I thought this was dessert.” My hands slid around her waist, pulling her tighter against me.
“You’re insatiable,” she whispered as I kissed her neck.
“Only with you.”
She turned in my arms, her hands sliding up my chest to loop around my neck. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. “The dishes can wait.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
I lifted her onto the counter in one smooth motion, stepping between her legs. Her dress rode up her thighs, and my hands followed, tracing the soft skin there. She pulled me closer by my shirt collar, her lips finding mine in a kiss that started gentle but quickly became anything but.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I admitted against her mouth. “You in my kitchen. You in my home.”
“Is that why you invited me over? For kitchen counter sex?”
I laughed. “That was just a bonus possibility. I actually have plans for later.”
“I like the sound of that.”
I kissed her deeply and then stepped back.
“Come with me.”
I led her through the apartment, out the sliding doors to my glassed-in terrace. The jacuzzi bubbled in the corner, steam rising in the night air.
“Get in,” I said. “I’ll get the wine.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“Neither do I.”
She looked around. “What if someone sees?”
I chuckled. “Unless they’ve got a telescope, they’re not seeing anything.”
I stepped back inside, grabbed the wine and our two glasses.
When I returned she was standing next to the glass and staring out at the city.
I filled our glasses and set them on the edge of the jacuzzi.
I started to undress. She turned to watch me. I took my time, and when I was down to just my boxers, I smiled.
“Don’t stop now,” she teased.
I pushed them down and kicked them away. I stepped into the hot water and sank down.
“The water’s great,” I groaned.
“This is insane.”
“Probably.”
She bit her lip. Looked around the terrace. Back at me.
Then she reached for the zipper of her dress.
I watched, riveted, as she slowly unzipped and let the dress fall to the deck. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Just simple cotton underwear that she slid down her legs and stepped out of.
She was perfect. Curves and soft skin. The city lights behind her made her glow.
“Stop staring,” she said.
“Can’t help it.”
She slipped into the hot water with a moan that made my entire body tighten. Her head fell back as she sank deeper, purple hair spilling over the edge of the jacuzzi.
“Oh my god,” she groaned. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever felt.”
I reached for our wine glasses, handed her one. “Better than the salmon?”
“Mmm, close call.” She took a sip, eyes closed in bliss. “This view is ridiculous.”
We sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just sipping wine and watching the city lights sparkle around us. From up here, the city looked peaceful. Manageable. Beautiful in a way it never did when you were down in it.
“Do you do this often?” Cleo asked, trailing her fingers through the bubbling water.
I laughed. “Hardly ever. Maybe three times total since I bought the place.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. I’m usually working or sleeping.” I shook my head, amazed at my own stupidity. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this.”
“Cash Bancroft.” She gave me a stern look that was somewhat undermined by her naked shoulders glistening with water droplets. “You have a jacuzzi with a view of Manhattan and you don’t use it? That’s criminal.”
“I know. I’m reformed now.” I raised my glass to her. “Thanks to you.”
She smiled and sipped her wine.
“There’s also a pool on the roof,” I added casually.
Her eyes went wide. “Get out. A pool? On the roof?”
“Heated.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” She sank lower into the water. “Who even are you? A pool and a jacuzzi?”
I nodded, trying to remember the last time I had even been up there.
“We are absolutely using that pool next time,” she said with absolute conviction. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” I set down my wine glass and moved closer to her. “Maybe midnight swimming. Starlight. Just us.”
“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Bancroft?” She was smiling, but her eyes had darkened.
“Always.” I reached for her, pulling her onto my lap. Water sloshed around us. “Is it working?”
Her answer was to kiss me, slow and deep and thorough. Her wet skin slid against mine, her thighs straddling my hips under the water. I ran my hands up her back, into her hair, holding her close as the kiss deepened.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured against my lips.
“Good. That was the whole plan.”
She kissed me again and it wasn’t long before I was ready to get out of the jacuzzi and into her.