8. Luna
CHAPTER 8
Luna
“At least I know I have the right number this time.”
What the hell did he mean by that?
I was so dazed I almost didn't realize he’d closed the door in my face.
Rude .
I went down his stoop, taking the stairs slowly. They were narrower than mine, the wheelchair accessible ramp taking up the other half.
My security system beeped after I successfully plugged in my code.
That was a total bust. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins. It needed an outlet since I'd been denied a verbal sparring.
I threw on my running clothes and hit the streets, eager to burn off the extra energy, hoping a tired body would quiet my mind.
Afterwards, I showered and slid into bed wearing my favorite silk two-piece set. A delicate camisole and matching shorts.
As I fell asleep, I replayed Beck’s words over and over again. “At least I have your correct number this time.”
* * *
A few days later, I found myself back at the construction site for The Chateau.
Things were turning around. Walls were up, and materials delivered.
No migraine in the forecast today.
I breathed a sigh of relief. This project was my baby. It felt like everything I'd been working towards culminating together.
My career started in the service industry. I'd worked my ass off slinging drinks and learning the ins and outs of bar and club life.
That's where I met my mentor, Gigi. She nurtured my interest and let me take risks. It was one of the best things about her. Then, when she was diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer, she let me take over managing her businesses.
She left me the bar when she passed away six months later.
That had been years ago. I was only twenty-five at the time.
My businesses have exploded ever since. Because I worked like a dog chasing a bone. Determined to make something. A legacy.
And that left no time for romantic relationships or close friendships. I funneled all my energy into my work at the expense of my personal life.
That one night with Beck made it seem like I could have space for both… and what happened a few days later confirmed to me that I couldn’t.
“Have you read the reports I sent you last night?” Parvati asked.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, I saw them. Keep this up and you’re officially hired for all my future projects.”
Not only had Parvati kept things on track, but she was also able to work some of her connections to help speed up the delivery of the materials we needed. The woman was like a patron saint of construction.
“I gladly accept,” Parvati said with a rare smile. The woman was formidable, making me look as sweet as a bunny rabbit. “I do want to make sure we get those security cameras set up soon though. With the increase in tools and supplies, the potential for loss grows. We know how tempting it can be for folks to steal from worksites.”
This hadn’t been much of a problem during previous renovations I’d overseen. With my hands on my hips, I surveyed the site. She was right. The fence that ran the perimeter would only deter people so much. Cameras were necessary.
Luckily I had a guy. “I’ll call my friend and get them set up ASAP.”
Parvati tapped her pen against her clipboard. “Very good.”
We continued our walkthrough until we'd covered all the updates, then I hopped in my car and Darnell took me over to Club Deux.
It became a habit to walk the floor every night. Stopping to greet the city’s elite as they drank and partied in my place of business. I arranged VIP lounges for them, personally greeting billionaires, politicians, actors, musicians, and everyone in between.
This was part of the gig. I loved it—loved saying hi and mingling. Except it usually depleted me of my remaining energy.
It was usually why I had to binge watch period pieces when I got home in the middle of the night. I longed for the slower pace, the clenching of hands, and solitude for those living in privilege during the time of Austen.
As I entered my office, shucking off my heels, I mentally planned a rewatch of the original BBC version of Pride and Prejudice for later in the evening. That would be the perfect way to unwind.
Then, with a few clicks, my laptop woke up, and I video called Sebastian.
“It’s late,” Sebastian grumbled.
“Oh, poor baby,” I crooned.
“It better be an emergency,” Faith yelled, sounding far away.
“It totally is,” I shouted right back.
“What is it, Luna? Are you okay?” Sebastian asked, sounding more awake this time.
I propped my legs up on my desk, leaning back in my chair. “I need you to install your fancy security system at my construction site in Atlantic City.”
Sebastian sighed. “That’s not an emergency, Luna.”
“It will be if someone goes and steals a bunch of tiles, Sebastian . I ordered top of the line tiles. That means they are very expensive.”
“Jesus.”
I suppressed a smirk. I loved giving him shit.
“I’ll call you in the morning for details, Luna. Until then, fuck off.”
I overheard my friend gasping at Sebastian’s audacity before the line went dead. I didn’t take it personally. By the sound of it, I’d probably interrupted them mid-session and nobody likes a cock block.
I was just about to return to my actual work when Monroe knocked on the open office door. “Hey, there's someone here to see you.”
“Who is it?” I’d reviewed the VIP list and made the rounds already. As far as I knew, nobody else was on the roster.
A frown tugged the corner of her mouth, and I watched as she tried to rearrange it back into her usual smile. “Carter.”
The blood drained from my face. Carter was the most recent in my attempts at having a normal personal life. We’d dated for a few months and yet we hadn't gone further than kissing and a little heavy petting.
The man never pressured me and was basically the nicest human being I’d ever met.
But despite his gorgeous face, Clark Kent glasses, and overall goodness, there wasn't a spark to be found between us.
Well, on my end anyway.
It was rather unfortunate actually.
He liked me. A lot .
Breaking up with him felt akin to kicking a puppy.
Yet when he suggested we make things more serious between us, I knew I couldn't do it. Couldn't keep stringing him along like that.
Not when I wished he would swap his clean-cut demeanor and tailored suits for scruff, tattoos, and leather. Because dammit if Beck hadn't actually ruined me for all men. Well, him and the other man.
The breakup with Carter was months ago. Plenty of time for him to get over me and move on, and yet he’d continued to reach out, to maintain that connection between us.
Monroe lifted her brow. “So, are you going to go see him or do I need to come up with an excuse?”
I bit my tongue, tempted to have her do just that. But that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do and dammit if this man wasn’t the nicest man on the planet.
“He said he’s been trying to reach you, but he can’t seem to get through…” She phrased it as a statement, but I heard the question in it.
“I blocked him. So sue me.” And now I'm a defensive asshole. Shit . “Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out that way.”
Monroe smirked. “You're free to block all the men. And if you don't want to go out there, boss, that’s fine, I’ll handle it. If you do want to see him, then I can go with you. Be the backup you need.”
I nodded. “Let's do that.”
“And you say the safe word and I'll get you out of there.”
I cackled. “Deal.”
The safe word was something Monroe and I had come up with when she started working for me.
Foliage .
If it was good enough for Michael Scott in The Office , it's good enough for me.
I fished through the bottom of my designer bag for my Badass Bombshell Red lipstick, using the small vanity in the corner of my office to check I hadn't smudged it anywhere. It gave me that extra boost of confidence to make sure Carter knew where things stood between us.
I threw my shoulders back. “Let's do this.”
We wove through the back hallway until we emerged at the main floor of the club. The room pulsed around me as the DJ played their set from the booth. We took the long way, Monroe leading me around the floor to give me some extra time before arriving in our lounge area. Not quite VIP status, but an elevated experience for people looking to be in the mix without being smack dab in the middle of it.
I sighed at the sight of him. Carter Huntington. Handsome as ever in a fitted Armani suit, hair perfectly coiffed, and glasses sliding down his classic Roman nose.
The antithesis of Beck Bennet in every way. I picked him for that specifically.
We’d met at the Sexual Assault Survivors Network Gala last year.
Gigi had always encouraged me to network and because of my past, I found myself naturally drawn to the Network’s mission. I’d been supporting them ever since, starting small with my donations and growing my financial support when I could, offering my time when I couldn’t. After some gentle prodding, I’d been roped into helping the gala planning committee last year.
The director of the Network had placed me at a table with Carter and a bunch of local politicians decades older than us. His sweet smile endeared me to him right away. We ended up chatting most of the night, just the two of us.
Carter was clean cut, nice, and earnest.
He came from money, but he loved academia. He served as an adjunct professor at NYU but occasionally helped out his parents by attending these events. It didn't hurt that he sometimes convinced others to patronize the university's research.
Frankly, I didn't even realize he was hitting on me until he asked for my number at the end of the night.
I only said yes to him because he was the exact opposite of the man I was still—after all these years—trying to get out of my head.
We went our separate ways six months ago, after I finally summoned the courage to break things off after we’d witnessed a couple at the table next to us getting engaged and Carter turned to me, full of earnestness, and told me he wanted marriage some day while his thumb traced my ring finger.
It took all the power inside of me not to fake an emergency and get the fuck out of there, roadrunner style.
I'd never thought much about marriage, yet I knew if I did want it, it wouldn't be with Carter. There had only ever been one person I had even considered marrying, regardless of how fleeting that feeling had been.
So, I cut things off with Carter via text.
It wasn't my proudest moment.
He wanted an explanation; I wanted out.
So why on Earth would he be dropping by?
Carter’s sudden reappearance brought back all the guilt that I’d shoved far beneath the surface.
I plastered a smile on my face. “Hi, Carter.”
He stood and kissed my cheek. He smelled like mint and honey. “It's good to see you.”
“You too,” I said, lying through my teeth.
We stood there, and I waited for him to tell me why he was here—instead, we stared at each other in anticipation.
My brow lifted expectantly.
He shook his head. “Right. The next Sexual Assault Survivors Network Gala is just a few weeks away.”
“I know. I'll be there.” I’d been attending the gala despite not sitting on the planning committee this year. I had to take a step back with everything going on with The Chateau.
Carter clutched the back of his neck. “Right, of course you will be. It's just that, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing a date.”
Date . He said it as if it might hit me like a bullet. Except the pang in my chest never came. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Here Carter was trying to tell me he was bringing someone to the same gala we had met at, and I felt nothing.
Zero.
Zilch.
Nada.
Yet, clearly he felt he had to warn me. Couldn’t this have been an email?
Oh wait—I blocked him. Damn .
“In fact, I want you to meet her,” he said, his hand motioning for someone to come over.
Wait, what the actual fuck?
Sure enough, a petite blonde woman with a hell of a side swept bang emerged from behind him, her hand outstretched. “Hi, I'm Delaney.”
I didn't know what was happening, but I knew that I wanted no part of it. I was too busy for whatever little show this was. Not only did I have to manage the club, but I had to get The Chateau up and running and begin tracking down items for the gala auction. I might not be able to be a full planning committee member, but I could still do my part to raise money for a great organization. To top it all off, I had the one-night stand of my dreams move in next door playing out the sexy single dad trope.
Life was busy. Too busy for whatever this was.
Still, I was a lady and shrewd. I couldn’t very well ignore someone especially when they were in my place of business, so I shook her outstretched hand, and exchanged pleasantries with her.
“She loves Club Deux and wanted to come here. I didn't want it to be weird,” Carter said sheepishly. Of course he would be a gentleman and make sure I knew he was here, especially with another woman. He wouldn’t want it to be weird but that was impossible given the circumstances.
I prayed for a sinkhole to swallow me whole.
“Well, you clearly have great taste,” I said to Delaney. “And I'll get a bottle of Dom sent over ASAP. On the house.”
“Oh you don't have to—” Carter started.
“I insist.” Anything to get me the hell out of here.
Then a text appeared on my screen.
I clicked it immediately looking for a distraction.
Beck:
Stop running in the middle of the goddamn night. It isn’t safe.
My brain took a few seconds to comprehend the message.
Excuse me?
That bastard.
“Excuse me, I have to take this.” I gestured to my phone because damn if that little text from Beck didn’t send a jolt of dopamine straight through my body. “Have a good rest of your night.”
I ignored the look of confusion that swept over Carter’s face and started heading to my office as I reread the text.
Beck:
Stop running in the middle of the goddamn night. It isn’t safe.
How does he know I run at night?
Beck
You set off my motion detector at 1 am last night and at 3 am the night before.
I frowned, fingers itching to respond.
Luna
I’m not sure that’s any of your business.
Beck
You’re interrupting my sleep, which makes it my business.
I gasped at his audacity.
Luna
YOUR business? I’m sorry, but my running habits are exempt from your business.
Beck
You're my neighbor, which means you're my business.
I scoffed, head shaking as my fingers flew across the screen.
Luna
Mr. Rogers never mentioned spying as one of the ways to be a good neighbor.
Beck
I bet Nationwide is on my side.
Luna
???♀? You need to work on your dad jokes. I'm embarrassed on Alice's behalf.
Beck
Stop running at night and you won't have to deal with my terrible dad jokes.
Luna
??
I was too pissed to come up with anything cleverer. In a few steps, I entered my office and slammed my phone face down on the desk. “That's enough of you, Beck Bennet.”