Page 17 of Confusing Cade
I held her gaze, refusing to back down. She had every right to be skeptical. I’d earned that. But I needed her to see this wasn’t just about me or the project.
“Kyra, I understand the history between our families. My father contributed to Gino’s downfall, and I regret that. But this isn’t about fixing the past. It’s about honoring Bella at the Promenade opening, on land her father envisioned developing. Her presence would strengthen the Moretti legacy and could open doors for networking or job opportunities. She’s been struggling alone; this could ease her burden.”
Kyra’s face eased up a bit, but she wasn’t buying it. “You’re acting all high and mighty, Cade. But I know about FanZone—Bella spilled the tea. You were subbed, weren’t you? How do I know this isn’t just some twisted game?”
I winced, the truth of her words hitting hard. I couldn’t deny it. I’d crossed lines, even if my intentions had been more complicated than she knew.
“You’re right, I subscribed to her FanZone, and it was a mistake. I was curious and felt guilty about her family’s past. Look, the Promenade opening is a chance for her to honor herfamily’s legacy. Kyra, she trusts you. Please, convince her to consider it.”
Kyra tapped her nails on the table, her side-eye softening as my words hit. She sighed, dropping her arms. “All right, you’re kinda selling me. But you gotta do me a solid first.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BELLA
“Thank God you brought over the good stuff,” I told Kyra when I opened the door to her that evening. “I was totally out.”
Kyra dangled a bottle of expensive-looking red wine from her left hand, shaking it back and forth. “This is the best part of working at the bar—all the insider info on the best wines to drink.”
That night’s offering came courtesy of a small vineyard in Oregon known for its red reserve blends. I’d never heard of it before, and Kyra made it clear it wasn’t a brand her bar was likely to stock for customers. It was too niche, too pretentious, and too expensive for the regulars who preferred their drinks cheap and predictable. Still, she hadn’t hesitated to snag half a case left behind by the sales rep, and I couldn’t blame her. Once the bottle was open, I had to admit, it was a damn good label. Sure, it was probably meant for some upscale bar with overpriced cocktails or a restaurant with cloth napkins and a sommelier who’d bore you to death, but it was good, nonetheless. Smooth. Rich. The kind of wine that made you feel briefly sophisticated even if you were drinking it in sweatpants.
“I still can’t describe what it felt like having Cade in my dad’s old conference room,” I said once my serving was half empty. Kyra and I had texted about the “meeting” before she came over. I’d told her it had been bizarre, and she had insisted thisniche red would solve everything. “That was a total mistake. We should have met at Starbucks. Or hell, maybe a gas station parking lot.”
Kyra scoffed, slouching against the counter. “He’d probably clap back and say no. Too out there.”
“No way I’m helping him. I’m good.”
I stabbed at a few pieces of cheese from the large plate between us with more force than necessary, imagining Cade’s smug face under the fork. Before Kyra showed up, I’d spent a solid fifteen minutes slicing up a block of aged cheddar and some creamy brie, arranging them on a platter with prosciutto, pickles, a handful of almonds, and this ridiculously expensive fig jam that hit me with a wave of nostalgia. My mom used to slather it on toast when I was a kid, back when I thought that kind of thing was normal instead of a luxury. The spread looked good, Instagram worthy, and I felt a little swell of pride that I could afford stuff like this now. One more perk of FanZone footing the bills. Still, no amount of fancy cheese could erase the sour taste Cade left behind.
“There’s no way I’m going to be part of anything Cade Weston is doing,” I added, popping a pickle into my mouth for emphasis.
Kyra snorted. “Get over yourself, Bella.”
I recoiled at her unexpected rebuke. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re being ridiculous.”
I laughed.She’s joking, right?
“Cade only asked you to show up at a ribbon cutting,” Kyra said. “That’s it. A couple hours tops—maybe a little input from you if it makes sense.” Kyra bit into one of the crostini, the crisp snap of it between her teeth punctuating her point. “I don’t see why this has to be some grand drama.”
“But it is.” My voice came out sharper than I meant, and I took a quick sip of wine to cover it, the red stinging my throat.
“Only because you make it that way.” She reached over, rubbing my arm with a gentle, coaxing touch she’d perfected over the years of our friendship. “Look, I know this is a tough subject. You’ve been through hell since your dad died. I get it. Anyone would be sensitive about it. But I still think you should reconsider this hard no.”
