Page 7 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“They eloped and left us behind,” Cleo seethed beside me. “I can feel it.”

I shook my head immediately, the theory too absurd even for Austin’s impulsive tendencies. “Austin wouldn’t risk upsetting Aunt Kathy like that.”

Cleo’s head snapped toward me, those dark eyes narrowing in judgment. “Isn’t she your stepmom?”

“Yes. But she was my aunt first.”

“Ew.” The word came out with such genuine revulsion that I actually felt defensive. “Bancrofts are so weird.”

“We’re not blood-related,” I said, my jaw tightening. “She’s my uncle’s widow.”

“That doesn’t sound any less icky.”

“It’s not icky,” I growled, and I could hear the edge in my voice. Why did this woman have such an extraordinary talent for getting under my skin?

“Mm, yes, take it from a normie.” Cleo took a leisurely sip of her Diet Coke, the picture of casual condescension. “It’s weird. You’re too elite and removed from normal society to have any sense of what’s weird or not.” She paused, and I could see the mischief dancing in her eyes. “Incest is surprisingly common in really wealthy families. Do you know the Royals were only allowed to marry first cousins for the longest time? They really like to keep it in the family.”

I rounded on her, and suddenly I was much closer than I’d been a moment ago. “Not in mine.”

For a second, we were locked in this stare. Me glowering down at her and her blinking up at me with those impossibly large dark eyes. Then her expression shifted, and she smiled. Not a polite smile or even a genuine one. No, this was the smile of someone who’d just successfully completed a mission.

She’d been toying with me. Again.

And I’d made it so easy for her. Christ, I’d walked right into that one like an amateur.

The worst part? How gorgeous she looked while doing it. She was a confusing kind of beautiful for me, the kind that didn’t fit into any of the neat categories I’d created in my mind. She wasn’t the modestly dressed woman people thought a man like me “should” have on his arm. Not the perfectly coiffed, neutral-toned, diamond-studs-and-pearls type that showed up to every charity gala and country club event.

No, Cleo was a combination of sunshine and goth. Two things that didn’t belong in each other’s space, but she made it work. Her purple eyeliner and black eyeshadow should look ridiculous but somehow didn’t.

She was chaos in human form, and I had no idea what to do with that.

“Maury, Maury, Maury,” she said in a singsong voice.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes. “I forgot, you uppity folks don’t get down in the gutter with us plebes and watch a little smarmy daytime television. You’re not the father!”

I stared at her. “Are you having a stroke?”

She snorted and took another drink. “One of these days, Lurch. I’m going to force you to sit down and watch good old fashioned daytime TV.”

“Not going to happen.”

I shook off her comments. Getting riled up was exactly what she wanted, and I refused to give her the satisfaction.

“So if they didn’t elope, maybe they bought a vacation property. In the Maldives, perhaps. They’ve been talking about traveling more.”

Cleo raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Why would they have to announce that at a party?”

I shrugged because she had a point. “Bancrofts announce everything. It’s practically genetic.”

“That tracks, actually.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, both of us staring across the kitchen at Austin and Melody. They were laughing with Kent and Sylvie now, but there was something underneath it. Something they were both holding close.

Then Cleo gasped. It was a sharp, sudden sound that immediately triggered my protective instincts.

I turned toward her, my hand already moving to her back. “Are you really having a stroke? Shit, I was kidding. I shouldn’t joke like that, given my Aunt Kathy’s history.”