Page 14 of Confusing Cade
“It is,” I replied, holding my ground.
In a way, I was ready for this. I knew what people thought of the site and how they viewed the content creators on the app. They thought we were all hookers, women for sale, and sluts with no self-esteem who would do anything to make a dollar. Once, I’d even agreed with that sentiment. But now...
“I made more money there last month than I did all last year.”
Cade shook his head, as if he was already exasperated by this conversation. “FanZone isn’t something you can do forever.”
“I’m willing to try.”
“You might be making decent money now, but what’s going to happen in five years? Or maybe ten? When you’re...”
“A boomer like you?”
I was being a little mean, but this was a fair comment that I had considered a few times on my own. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my thoughts, that point lingered, always lurking, an undeniable reality that I wouldn’t be able to escape forever. FanZone was all about being youthful, sexy, and fresh. What would happen in ten years, or even five, when I wasn’t as sexy? When I wasn’t as fresh?
You don’t have to talk about this with Cade Weston. It’s not any of his business.
“Yes, a boomer like me,” he replied. “Though you know I’m a millennial.”
I didn’t laugh. This wasn’t about his generation; it was about him sounding... old.And like he thinks he knows what’s best for me.“I’m not going to be part of any marketing campaign, or any grand opening, or anything like that. I don’t need a handout, and my father’s memory isn’t something people can just throw around so they look good. He’d hate that.” I stood, glancing at my watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a busy day, and I need to get to my next appointment.”
He rose too. “I don’t believe that, but if you want me to leave, I will.”
I placed my fingers on the table, leaning slightly across it, my voice dropping to its deepest register. “I want you to get the hell out of here and never bother me again.”
This comment was a total bluff.
Cade himself wasn’t that bad especially when I let my gaze linger on his deep, soulful eyes—eyes that seemed to pierce through me, knowing me down to my core. As I straightened, his gaze flickered briefly, dipping to the neckline of my blouse where it gaped just enough to reveal a hint of skin before snapping back to my face. My breath hitched my throat, and warmth pooled between my legs. Did I see something hungry in his expression? I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered.
Cade was a Weston. And Morettis hated Westons.
The rivalry hadn’t died with our fathers.
No, it was still very much alive, made worse by the fact that Cade ruled Palm Beach. His business had done nothing but thrive. He was a fixture at every party in town, and he’d amassed millions on his own. He could afford to leave me the scraps I clung to so desperately. It would barely cost him a thing.
“Fine,” he said after a pause. “I’ll go.”
After he left, I wandered from the old conference room into what had once been my father’s large corner office. Years ago, we sold almost everything at auction, and now all that remained was his dilapidated desk and a metal folding chair that had never gone with it. I sank into the seat, placed my elbows onto the warped wood, and dropped my head into my hands.
What would Dad say about all this? What would he think?
I didn’t have a good answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
