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She swallows whatever retort she had ready on her tongue. “Look, I like going for long walks late at night. I always have. I always will. It clears my head. And lately… I’ve had a lot of things to think about. And, um, I really,reallydon’t like the feeling of being followed. It… gives me bad anxiety and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have a henchman stalking me in the future.”
I nod, listening to her genuine request. “Okay. I won’t ask Francis to follow you again. But only on one condition. If you want to go for walks after ten p.m., tell me. I’ll come with you.”
Eyes meet eyes, battling. Will against will.
“That would defeat the purpose of the alone part.”
I take a step closer, and she backs up one step, now against the wall. The side of my finger finds her chin. Softer this time, gentle.
“I know. I’ll stand as far back as you need me to, but… I’d feel better knowing you aren’t alone. Please. For me. Okay? Promise me you won’t go out alone this late again.”
Those eyes, those softening, innocent eyes, look up at me, and then she nods, just once. But it’s enough.
I pull my finger away and step back.
And she takes a deep breath that seems to fill her up her entire body.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Luna.” But she’ll be haunting my mind’s eye hours before that.
“Good night, Kingsley.”
And when I finally, finally sleep when the sun is already halfway to its morning mantlepiece , it’s her voice that’s the soundtrack of my dreams.
“You did a really good job with this,” I say to her at an early lunch a few days later. I’d asked her to write a summary of the things we’d talked about that week, and she’s shown that she’s listened and understood almost everything. Her questions delve into deeper issues than we’ve talked about, and it gives me a clearer understanding of what she’s curious about and what I need to share more of with her.
She has an unsurprising but impressive aptitude for business, and it makes me wonder where she would be right now if it had been her and not Alex under Ernest’s wing this whole time.
Alex.
I haven’t even had time to deal with him. Somehow both of us have skirted that topic of conversation, but I know it must be on her mind.
I don’t know what happened in his office before she came running out of that office, but the look on her face that day still haunts me. It was the impetus between me driving off and never turning back and pulling her into my car, taking her away from him.
I’m also curious exactly how much he knew about her this whole time. He looked about as surprised as the rest of us finding out that he wasn’t going to be Ernest’s sole heir of his shares.
His CEO appointment is all but set in stone with a board meeting planned for later this week.
And only because Luna doesn’t seem in the slightest bit interested in the position.
Because if she’d shown me the slightest indication that she was, I might have encouraged her to make some moves, fast.
I flick through the ten-page paper on my desk. I gave her the assignment the night before, and it looks like she stayed up all night working on it.
While lacking in any academic sourcing and citations, with most of her information coming from informal sources (me), and documents I provided to her or had encouraged her to read, it reads like an academic paper in its form and function, concluding with a list of open-ended questions that lead onto a deeper understanding of her father’s company’s current projects.
It occurs to me to ask something I never thought to ask her before.
“What did you do before you moved here?”
“Well, I haven’t moved here. I am currently here,” she corrects me. “But before now, I was doing what I assume I will continue to be doing after—just traveling. I’m not one for staying in one place.”
“It sounds like you’re running from something. A cheating boyfriend?” I add on before I can stop myself. We haven’t talked about anything that has given me the tiniest hint about her past romantic relationships.
She doesn’t rise to the bait, but her demeanor is more guarded than I’m used to. Usually, I can’t get her to stop sharing. “Depends on the perspective. Maybe I’m running toward something.”
“Still not thinking about university?”
She laughs. “Couldn’t imagine anything I’d like less.”
