15. Luna

15

Eight shows down, ninety to go.

I was still counting, but every time I ticked a performance off the list, it meant one less day that Ryder would be in Vegas, so the check marks were bittersweet. When the lights dimmed on the final show, I planned to head straight to the airport, destination Virginia.

At least, I hoped so.

This thing with Ryder, it was everything I'd thought I never wanted. Since that night with Julius, I'd figured that I'd die old and alone, or maybe young and alone if a crazed fan took me out. Mark Antony had sent me dinner every evening this week. Freak.

With each day that passed, I got more nervous, and my stalker was only part of the reason. Sooner or later, Ryder would want to have sex, and I'd have to tell him it was impossible for me. Those parts just didn't work the way they should. The kissing, that was great, and I'd hoped that being around him, finally finding a man I trusted, might ease the problem. But three days ago at the theatre, I'd stolen a tampon from the box Aisha kept in the bathroom, and when I tried to use it, my muscles had clamped together just as tight as they always did. I'd begun sobbing in the bathroom from the pain as I tried to force it in, but quietly because someone hammered on the door and yelled at me to change into my costume.

The costume substantial enough to hide the pad I had to wear for shark week every month.

This was such a freaking mess.

I was such a freaking mess.

And what if Ryder decided I was too much trouble? Men liked sex; I knew that much. Could they live without it? I wasn't sure I could live without him. A week had passed since he walked back into my life, and I never wanted him to leave.

Right now, we were cuddled on the couch, watching a movie, waiting for the hours to tick by so I could go do my show. We'd fallen into a routine now. Early in the morning, while it was still dark, Ryder would go out to train. Mostly in the gym, but sometimes at the shooting range as well. Then we'd spend a couple of hours chilling before it was time to go to the Palace. And kissing. There was a lot of kissing. Sometimes he'd help me to reply to fan mail, sometimes he'd grill me on driving questions, but he always stayed close. At the appointed hour, he'd switch into bodyguard mode, all tough and serious, and drive me to my show.

Yesterday, he'd skipped the workout, and we'd gone to the Helping Paws Animal Shelter with Shani and Rocky. I'd taken pictures of the dogs and cats and discussed how the folks who worked there could boost interaction on social media. They mostly posted desperate pleas for foster homes, no feel-good stories or targeted fundraising appeals. I had a hundred ideas to work on over the next week.

But not tomorrow.

Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, we were going on our first official date, to Blackwood's office for Shani's charity quiz. It was the one place outside our apartment where we could be ourselves, where we didn't have to pretend to be client and contractor. And Ryder was also planning a surprise trip. He wouldn't tell me where, but he'd asked if I was scared of heights. When I'd said that heights were fine, I was just scared of surprises, he'd laughed.

"You ready?"

"Huh?"

"You ready to go?" Ryder asked, and I realised the credits were rolling.

"Uh, sure. I need to use the bathroom first."

"Moon, you feeling okay? Is that text from Jubilee still playing on your mind?"

Thankfully, he interpreted my general shakiness as nerves over my cousin's message. She'd texted this morning, apologising again for everything that had happened in San Gallicano, but this time asking if I'd meet her for coffee. And also telling me that unfortunately, my car had been stolen, and Mom had reported it to the police. Ryder said he'd get that last part straightened out.

"I'm still not sure whether I should speak with her."

"There's an old saying: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Apart from your mom—you should stay far, far away from her."

A giggle escaped. "So you think I should go?"

"I think you're stronger than you were four months ago, and you're learning to stick up for yourself. It wouldn't be a bad idea to find out what she wants."

"Okay, fine, I'll tell her yes."

"Want me to find a quiet spot?"

"Would you?"

"I'd do anything for you, moon. You know that."

Only time would tell whether that was true.

Perfume, candy, books, make-up, the gifts didn't stop. My dressing table was full. If I kept all that stuff, I'd need to rent another apartment—and this time, I wouldn't be giving Cordelia the address. Hass had delivered another letter before we left for the Palace, this one complaining in cursive about my bodyguard's "propensity for senseless violence" and his "ill-judged attack on a member of the media." As if Ryder had meant to run over Jorge's leg. Didn't she understand what "accident" meant?

Cordelia was such a dumbass.

"Do you want the penguin plushie?" Ryder asked. "Or should I put that on the table outside?"

"It can go on the table. The only things I want are stationery I can use for my letters, and chocolate. Or the type of heating pad that goes in the microwave, but I doubt anyone sent one of those."

"You're cold?"

"Uh, no? Just a bit…achy."

"That time of the month?"

"Do we have to talk about this?"

It was just the two of us for a rare moment, and Ryder gave my hand a squeeze. "I'll get a heating pad. You need anything else? Tylenol? Tea?" His face twisted into a slight grimace. "Tampons?"

"Go away."

"Neve used to swear by peppermint tea. She also used to bitch at me for two days a month, so I won't take that comment personally."

I rooted through another bag and held out a hot-pink purse. "Table."

Ryder merely chuckled. "If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, we'll need to have difficult conversations occasionally."

I froze, and once again, he came to the wrong conclusion.

"You…don't see that kind of future for us?"

Oh, heck. Now he sounded hurt, and he looked…shocked. Tears prickled my eyes, and how was I supposed to confess my biggest secret? Here? Where anyone could come in and see me crying? Where fifty people would see Ryder walk away?

Never in my life had I been so grateful to see a gift from Mark Antony. I plucked the gold cuff out of a gift bag and studied the enamelled design before it clicked. Weird-looking squiggly eye. Egypt. I reached for the bag to check for a note, but Ryder got there first.

"That motherfucker," he growled.

I turned his hand so I could read the latest ramblings of a warped mind.

My Dearest Cleopatra,

As you take centre stage tonight, a modern queen captivating all who behold your beauty, I wanted to gift you a token of my love. This golden bracelet, radiant like your spirit, is a reminder that you reign supreme in my heart. May it accompany your graceful dance and serenade you with the whispers of my love as you enchant the world with your song.

Yours always,

Mark A

"I'm not wearing it. Has he lost his mind? Actually, scratch that thought. We already know the answer."

Ryder had his phone in his hand, and he looked so annoyed.

"I thought you were checking the gifts," he told whoever was on the other end of the phone. A pause. "Yeah, she got another one. A bracelet. Small black gift bag, gold ribbon on the handles. … You do that."

Ryder tossed the phone down on the table, jaw clenched.

"Who was that?"

"Derek Monroe. Some security they have here. They were meant to be checking every item that got delivered."

I wasn't sure whether to be totally creeped out or not. It was just a gift, but… I shuddered.

"What do we do now?"

"You sing. I speak to Monroe and arrange a security check."

"You think he'll agree to that?"

Ryder's voice came out hard and flat. "Yeah, he'll agree."

At least nobody fainted tonight, although it said a lot about my life that headlining a Vegas extravaganza was the least dramatic part of it these days. Ryder was waiting for me when I walked off stage, and he didn't look happy, but he stood to the side while I high-fived my dancers and made sure someone brought Aisha an ice pack. She'd twisted an ankle in the final number, although she'd acted like the professional she was, smiled through it, and barely missed a step.

"You think you'll be okay by Tuesday evening?" I asked.

"As long as I take Tylenol and rest tomorrow. It wasn't a bad slip."

"Cocktails will help," Venus put in. "Who wants to go to the Peppermill? It's been ages since we went out together, and we can sleep off our hangovers tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself," Paul said. "Rufus's mom is visiting from Miami, and she gets up at dawn."

At least I wasn't the only party pooper. "I have plans too."

"Okay, one cocktail. And snacks."

I hoped Ryder wouldn't be too annoyed. "Just one."

Venus wrapped me up in a sweaty hug. "You won't regret it."

I only hoped that was true. Ryder followed me to my dressing room, opened the door, and moved to the side to give me room to pass.

"Please don't be mad at me."

"Why would I be mad?"

"Because I changed our plans without asking first? Because you look mad?"

"I'm pissed at the security breach, not that you want to drink cocktails with your friends. You should be having fun."

"Really?"

Mom used to get super mad when I made unilateral decisions. That's what she called it. Unilateral decisions. Not fun with friends.

"If you're tired, you can sleep while I drive tomorrow."

I blew out a breath. How come this was so easy? And why hadn't I had the courage to leave Mom in the dust before? I'd missed out on years of freedom.

"What happened with Derek Monroe?"

"Nobody in the staff office recalls seeing the black bag from Mark Antony, but we found out that the guard at the inner backstage door has been taking unauthorised breaks without arranging cover. It's possible Mark A walked right into the theatre unchallenged."

My blood ran cold. "Right into my dressing room?"

"Maybe. The guard in question has been reassigned, and Monroe is going to install an extra camera outside." Ryder nodded toward the door.

"They didn't fire the guy?"

"Not for a first-time offence."

My mom would have fired him in a heartbeat, and six months ago, I would have as well. But so much had changed since then. I'd learned that hasty decisions weren't always the right ones. I mean, I'd tried to fire Ryder on his first day on the job, and if that had worked out, I'd probably be dead in a casket right now.

"I don't want him involved with the show."

"He won't be. Plus Monroe is reviewing the rest of the cameras to see if he can spot anyone carrying the bag in the hotel."

"I love performing here, but at the same time, I can't wait for it to be over."

Ryder drew me in for a toe-curling kiss. "Everything will be okay, moon. I promise."