Page 29 of My Real Love Affair

First, we’d need to get ahead of the narrative. Put out a statement from Melody’s side clarifying what happened. Maybe even threaten legal action against Femme Curve for breach of contract, assuming there was grounds for it. I would need to get my lawyers to look at her contract.

Second, we’d need to control the press cycle. Get her in front of friendly media outlets. Tell her side of the story. Show that she was as much a victim as anyone else.

Third we would need to shift public perception. If Melody was dating a Bancroft, that made her newsworthy for entirely different reasons. We could redirect the conversation from her scandal to our relationship. Give people something else to focus on.

It was manipulative as hell. But it would work.

I opened a new tab and started researching PR firms. Not the ones my family used. I needed someone independent, someone who wouldn’t report back to Cash or my father. Someone who would work for Melody’s interests, not the Bancroft name.

An hour passed. Then two. I made notes, cross-referenced firms, looked up success stories and client lists. By the time I finally closed my laptop, I had a solid plan forming.

Tomorrow, I would reach out to Melody. Lay it all out for her.

And if she said yes?

Well, then things were about to get very interesting.

CHAPTER 10

MELODY

Iwas still in bed, wrapped in my comforter like a burrito, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom windows, way too bright for someone who had gotten home past one in the morning. My head felt fuzzy from the champagne hangover. Better than an actual hangover.

And my first coherent thought was about the kiss. The several kisses.

No. I wasn’t going to think about the kissing. Or Austin Bancroft. Or the completely insane night I had. Or the silly text he sent shortly after I walked in my door. It was just part of his charm. There was no way I was going to hear from him again.

My phone buzzed again.

I had muted all notifications from social media so it had to be a text message. Probably Cleo. I reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Austin:Morning, baby girl. Hope you slept well.

My heart did a complete somersault in my chest.

Austin:This is Austin, by the way. In case that wasn’t obvious.

I sat up so fast I got dizzy, clutching my phone like it might explode. Austin Bancroft was texting me. Again. What the hell was happening?

Austin. Bancroft. Was. Texting. Me.

What was I supposed to say? How did people respond to texts from devastatingly hot billionaires the morning after fake-dating them at a society wedding?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I typed something, deleted it. Typed something else, deleted that too.

Think, Melody. Be cool. Be casual. Be the kind of woman who definitely knows how to handle this situation.

Me:Good morning.

I stared at the message. That was so boring. So bland. He probably thought I was the least interesting person on the planet.

Three dots appeared. He was typing.

Austin:Dinner tonight? I know a place. Nothing fancy. Promise.

My stomach flipped. He actually wanted to see me again. This wasn’t just a wedding-night thing.

Austin:Unless you’re busy. No pressure. Just thought it might be fun.