Page 66 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“We don’t have a scandal a month,” I retorted. “We’ve got it down to every three to six months.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.”

“Trust me, you haven’t met my whole family. I’m very proud of that fact. You met Finn. He’s one of the least problematic.”

She took another sip. No icky face so it was going down smoother. Scotch was like that. You just had to trust the process.

“What do you mean slip away?” I asked. “Like he’s hiding from the law?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she tell you what scandal?”

“No, but I assume it’s the Austin thing.”

I groaned. “You mean the Summer Situation.”

“Maybe. I really don’t know why that’s such a thing. Honestly, people have fake relationships all the time. I can name five celebrities in lavender marriages right now. It’s cover. I’m pretty sure it’s been done since the dawn of time.”

“Maybe, but Summer keeps teasing more information.”

“Does she have more?”

“No. We Bancrofts are careful. We don’t talk.”

“I’ve noticed that,” she said thoughtfully. “First rule of being a Bancroft is you don’t talk about the Bancrofts.”

I stared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Fight Club. Come on, you’ve seen it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Were you hatched?”

“What?”

Cyclone Cleo was back. Having a conversation with her was like trying to grab water. I could never keep up when she got like this.

“Focus,” I said. “Rossi. What else?”

She downed the scotch, which made me wince. And then she was up. I finished my own glass, ignoring the burn, and followed her toward her room.

“He’s been planning it since before your meeting,” she said. “The contract cancellation was just the first move. He wants to make it look like the Bancrofts backed out badly or behaved badly. She wasn’t specific, but the general direction was that you were going to be a convenient story while he disappeared.”

I followed her to the bathroom doorway, trying to process what she was saying.

Cleo was at the mirror. She opened a pack of what looked like baby wipes and started attacking her face. One swipe and the black makeup around her eye smeared. She did it again and again.

“How did you get all of that out of her in a bathroom in less than five minutes?” I asked.

Maybe she knew some secret CIA interrogation methods. That seemed useful. I wanted to know her tricks.

“I offered her something she wanted.”

“Which was?”

She met my eyes in the mirror. “Time with you.”