Page 193 of My Real Love Affair

“What the fuck?” I muttered. “What are you doing here?”

I was going to talk to security. I didn’t care if my brother flashed his name around, it was getting old.

“We need to talk.”

“You know they have this cool thing called a phone.”

He nodded. “It’s a great invention. Too bad you never answer it.”

Fair. “It’s Sunday morning. Don’t you take time off? We can talk tomorrow.”

“Now,” he said firmly.

I was getting pretty sick of my brother showing up uninvited, inserting himself into my life, but the look on his face stopped me from telling him to fuck off. Cash looked stressed. Actually stressed, which was rare for him.

“Coffee?” I offered more out of habit than hospitality.

“No. Just sit down. This is important.”

So much for a lazy Sunday morning. First Melody and now Cash.

“What now?” I asked.

“Summer Auburn.”

“Who?”

“Summer. The woman I hired to be your date.”

“What about her?”

“She’s blackmailing me.” Cash’s jaw tightened. “Or trying to. She sent me screenshots of our text conversations, the contract, payment receipts. Everything. And she’s threatening to go public with it all if I don’t pay her more money.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” Cash ran a hand through his hair, looking more rattled than I had ever seen him. “I wanted to warn you before this blows up. Because it will blow up. She’s going to expose the entire arrangement. She’s ready to go public and tell whoever will listen that we hired her to keep you in line. And she is going to tell everyone that you ditched her for Melody.”

My mind raced. “When?”

“I don’t know. Could be days, could be weeks. She’s building her case, reaching out to media outlets. This is going to be a shitstorm, Austin.”

“Why are you telling me this?” My voice was full of anger. It was going to blow up, and for once, this was not my mistake. He had done this. “Why do you suddenly care enough to warn me?”

Cash’s expression hardened. “Because despite what you think, I’ve always cared. I’ve been trying to help you for years, you stubborn asshole.”

“Help me? By hiring a babysitter? By trying to control every aspect of my life?”

“By trying to protect you!” Cash’s voice rose, frustration bleeding through his usual composure. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been in Dad’s ear, trying to get him to back off? Trying to get him to reach out to you after you left?”

I stared at him. “What?”

“When you broke all those years ago and just took off traveling, Dad was devastated. He blamed himself for not being able to fix things with you. He carried that guilt, Austin. And I spent years trying to make him understand that you’re just different. You’re not motivated by the same things as the rest of us—money, success, reputation, power.”

The words felt like a jab, and I opened my mouth to argue, but Cash cut me off.

“That’s not an insult. It’s just the truth. You’ve always been different, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You want freedom and experiences and to live life on your own terms. I get that. I respect that, even if Dad doesn’t always.”

I didn’t know what to say. Cash had been trying to help? All this time?