Page 5 of My Real Love Affair

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at her comment. I playfully swatted her arm. “Cleo!”

But her words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. My romantic life had definitely taken a backseat while I built my brand. Dating was complicated when you were a public figure. Every relationship became fodder for speculation. But it was the breakups that I hated the most. They were analyzed and dissected by strangers on the internet. Everyone trying to figure out who was to blame.

Like, hello, can’t two people just decide they don’t want to date? Are we supposed to have coffee with someone and decide we’re going to be together forever?

I actually enjoyed my independence. Still, as successful as my business had become, sometimes I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. It would be nice to have someone to share all this success with. Someone to come home to after a long day of photoshoots and meetings. Someone to celebrate the victories with and comfort me through the inevitable setbacks. Someone who would welcome me with a hug and a kiss and thepromise of a warm bed where I could just be myself, not the carefully curated version of myself I presented to the world.

I stepped forward and placed the dress on the counter, pushing thoughts of loneliness aside. I had built an amazing life for myself, one that helped other women feel confident and beautiful in their own skin. That counted for something.

“Beautiful choice,” the cashier said, carefully wrapping the dress in tissue paper. “Special occasion?”

“A wedding,” I replied, sliding my credit card across the counter. “Should be quite the event.”

As I waited for the transaction to process, I found myself thinking about the upcoming announcement. Tomorrow night, the day before Sophie’s wedding, my collaboration with a major fashion brand would finally go public. It was something I’d been working toward for months, my own line designed specifically for plus-size women who wanted to look and feel amazing.

Fashion had given me a sense of purpose I’d never expected. Growing up, I’d struggled to find clothes that fit properly, that made me feel beautiful instead of like I was trying to hide my body. Now I had the platform and the resources to change that for other women, to show them that style and confidence weren’t limited by size.

The cashier handed me my bag with a smile. “Have a wonderful time at the wedding.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Cleo and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I immediately took a deep breath of the warm spring air. This was my favorite time of year in New York, when winter finally loosened its grip and the city came alive again with possibility. The trees were just starting to bud, and there was an energy in the air that made everything feel fresh and new.

And this spring? I was on the verge of something big, balancing on the edge of whatever waited for me on the otherside of this brand launch. With luck and support from my online besties, this launch might propel my business to the next level. And maybe, just maybe, it would also send me into the arms of someone who loved all of me for me. Like I had learned to do.

I draped my arm around Cleo’s shoulder as we started walking toward the brunch place she’d mentioned. “Poor Bancroft billionaires,” I said with mock sympathy. “There’s no way they’re having as good of a day as we are, huh?”

Cleo beamed at me, her many rings catching the sunlight as she gestured enthusiastically. “We get to shop for a living, babe.Nobodyis having as good of a day as we are.”

CHAPTER 3

AUSTIN

The mahogany doors of my father’s study closed behind me. It felt like the lid of my coffin had just been closed. Today felt like a reckoning.

I hadn’t been to my father’s new home with his new wife, my old aunt. I didn’t even go to their wedding, which was just another black mark against me.

I wasn’t surprised by the lavishness of the estate. My father was a billionaire. And Aunt Kathy, AKA my new stepmother, was a billionaire in her own right. My late uncle, my father’s brother, was married to Kathy. Both my father and his brother built empires. My father built his empire in western Canada and my uncle pretty much dominated the eastern half of the United States. I think we all knew back then there was some bad blood, but we never truly understood until adulthood. Then Dad married our aunt and it was pretty clear.

I liked Kathy. I liked most of my cousins. But there were some big personalities on that side. Both sides.

Dad sat behind his massive desk, every inch the patriarch in his perfectly tailored navy suit. His salt-and-pepper hair was impeccably styled, his jaw set in that familiar line that meant I was about to get the verbal lashing of a lifetime.

Back in the day, that look intimidated me. Well, until I was about thirteen and hit puberty. Testosterone had me rebelling pretty hard. Probably harder than any of my brothers, which led to a lot of arguing. I argued with my brothers. My father. The horde of nannies. Teachers at school. I could not be controlled.

A few years ago, I couldn’t handle it and left.And now I’m being dragged back in.

The study itself was a monument to Bancroft success: leather-bound books that were likely first editions, art, and a few vases. Windows overlooked manicured grounds that looked more like a city park. It was a massive estate that I knew hosted many family gatherings.

My eyes moved around the room and landed on Cash. He was sitting in one of the leather chairs, his arms crossed over his chest, looking like some kind of sentinel. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, which was probably for the best. I was still pissed at him for dragging me here, hungover and unprepared for whatever fresh hell awaited me.

I could have stayed away. But since I’d been back in New York, I’d made myself available to them. Not available but accessible.

“Sit down, Austin,” my father said.

I dropped into the leather chair across from his desk. I was familiar with the situation. Same shit, different study. I had been lectured about my grades, my behavior, my choice in women, and my complete lack of interest in the family business more times than I could count. Nothing ever changed except the specific details of my latest transgression.

“Do you want to explain to me what the hell you were thinking?” Dad’s voice was deadly calm, which was somehow worse than if he’d been shouting.