Page 86 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

I walked to the window in nothing but my socks and underwear. “Rossi wanted to see stability. Family values. I needed someone who could play the part at the fundraiser.”

“So you invented a fiancée.”

“It was strategic.”

“It was reckless.” He paused. “Does this girl know it’s fake?”

“Of course she knows.”

“And she’s willing to lie for you.”

“She’s willing to help me close a deal.” I rubbed my free hand over my face. “It’s business, Dad. That’s all it is.”

Another pause. Longer this time. “Do you know how many times this has backfired on your brothers?”

The Summer Situation. It was going to be hanging over my head for the rest of my days.

“This isn’t that.”

“You’re coming home in two days,” he said. “With Rossi’s signature.”

“Yes.”

“And your fiancée.”

I stopped pacing. “What?”

“The media has picked up on your engagement.” His voice was matter of fact now, delivering information like he was reading from a report. “There are photos from the fundraiser. Social media posts. Speculation about when the wedding will be.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Will you?” He sighed. “Because if you were planning to leave this lie in Rome, you’d better think twice. The story is already out there. If you come home without her, people will ask questions. It’ll look like another Bancroft scandal. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you kids. Seriously? How do you all keep making the same damn mistake?”

My jaw clenched. “So what do you suggest?”

“I suggest you figure out how to make this look believable for at least a few months. Long enough for the interest to die down. Long enough that when you do end it, it looks like a natural dissolution instead of a publicity stunt gone wrong.”

He was right.

“Fine,” I said.

“And Cash?”

“What.”

“Sober up.” He hung up.

And because Armand Bancroft was that powerful, I sobered up. He sucked the life right out of my buzz. The warm loose feeling was gone. In its place was the weight that I had been carrying for most of my life. It reminded me every single day that I wasn’t just Cash Bancroft.

I was a Bancroft. Full stop.

Everything I did reflected on the family. Every choice. Every mistake. Every impulsive decision to bring a sassy woman to Rome and pretend she was my fiancée.

I sat back down on the bed. This had gotten away from me. The whole thing. I’d thought I could control it. Charm Rossi, close the deal, and send her home. I dropped my head into my hands.

I didn’t do frazzled. I was composed, strategic, always three moves ahead. I fixed problems. I didn’t create them. Except apparently now I did.

I didn’t sleep well. When morning came, I felt like shit. Worse than shit. I always had a plan. I knew my purpose. But today I felt off. I felt like I wasn’t on sure footing.