Page 61 of My Real Love Affair

“You could have warned me,” I said, my voice small.

“Would you have come if I’d told you?”

“No!”

“Exactly.” He stepped closer. “Melody, you can do this. You’ve faced down internet trolls. You can handle one family dinner.”

“Those people weren’t your father.”

“My father is just a man. A rich, judgmental man, but still just a man.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture surprisingly tender. “And you’re incredible. Smart, successful, beautiful. He’d be lucky to have you as a daughter-in-law.”

The word daughter-in-law made my stomach flip for entirely different reasons.

“This is insane,” I muttered.

“Welcome to life with a Bancroft.” He offered his arm. “Come on. Let’s go face the firing squad.”

I took his arm because I didn’t know what else to do. Let him lead me up the stone steps to the massive front door.

A woman—staff, I assumed—opened it before we could knock. “Austin, your father is expecting you in the dining room.”

“Thank you.”

The inside of the estate was gorgeous, and while I knew I was inside a mansion, it felt homey. Like people actually lived here. It didn’t feel cold or mausoleum-like. There were pictures of children that were clearly related to Austin covering nearly every surface. Framed pictures on the wall and even a collage of what looked like children’s artwork framed and hanging like it was the Mona Lisa.

I gripped Austin’s arm tighter. He covered my hand with his, warm and reassuring. “You’ve got this,” he murmured.

We walked through hallways that seemed to go on forever, finally reaching a formal dining room with a table that could seat twenty people. At one end sat an older man who could only be Armand Bancroft—silver hair, sharp eyes, the kind of presence that commanded attention without saying a word. Beside him sat an older woman in her seventies I guessed, elegant and poised.

Armand’s eyes locked onto Austin, then slid to me. I felt evaluated. Judged.

“Dad, Kathy,” Austin said, his voice easy despite the tension I could feel in his arm. “This is Melody. Melody, my father, Armand, and my stepmother, Kathy.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” I managed, proud when my voice didn’t shake.

Kathy stood, smiling warmly. “Melody! We’ve heard so much about you. Please, sit.”

Armand didn’t stand. Didn’t smile. Just watched us with those calculating eyes.

Austin pulled out a chair for me, then sat beside me, close enough that our thighs touched under the table. His arm went around the back of my chair, and he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

The gesture should have felt performative. But it felt right. Normal. I leaned into him, because that’s what a girlfriendwould do. Not because he felt solid and steady beside me. Not because his cologne made me want to turn my face and nuzzle his neck.

He was hard where I was soft. Muscular and steady. And the way his arm wrapped around me felt way too good.

No. I couldn’t think about that. I needed to stay focused.

He could have anyone. He’d had so many women I’d lost count scrolling through his Instagram. Beautiful, thin, perfect women.

Why would someone like him actually choose someone like me?

This was performance. Nothing more.

“So, Melody,” Kathy said as staff began serving the first course. “Austin tells us you’re a fashion influencer?”

“Yes, ma’am. I focus on plus-size fashion and body positivity.”

“How wonderful! And you’ve built quite a following, I understand.”