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Eighteen

Luna

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, panic bubbling beneath the surface.

It’s been three days since I confessed everything to Aiden and I’ve barely stopped to think.

Because if I start thinking then I’ll start panicking and then where will I be?

Running the other way so I don’t mess up Aiden’s life?

Letting go of this boy, this man, a completely different kind of dream?

I exhale, shoring myself up, even as I know that I’m not going to walk away, that I’m going through with his plan anyway.

Because I want to change things at Smythe.

And because…I want Aiden for however long he lets me have him. I want to stock up on memories, store them away for later, for when I’m alone again, for when the Maybelle Curse strikes.

“He knows the truth,” I whisper to my reflection.

And he came up with the plan.

He and the Grizzlies are playing in Vegas tomorrow, having flown there directly after their home game last night. Today he’s picking up a marriage certificate after practice then will meet me at the airport. We’ll hit his hotel room, get changed, and then…do the ultimate Vegas thing?—

Get married by Elvis.

Then lawyers and stocks and Smythe and…soaking up all that is Aiden.

Well, the last part is my addition.

The rest of it—all him. And it all sounded so simple when he brought it up, an easy checklist to make our way through.

Until I remembered what would eventually happen.

The Maybelle Curse.

Why me letting him go years ago wasn’t purely selfless—yes, he needed the freedom to pursue his dreams, but also yes, it’s only a matter of time before it all goes wrong…same as it’s gone wrong for every woman in my family.

I close my eyes, shove that away.

I don’t want to think about having to let him go. Back to his life.

To his family.

Don’t want to think about being alone again.

“Ugh,” I mutter, stabbing the wand of my mascara into the tube and twisting with vigor.

It makes me feel better, at least until I hear an ominous crack.

I freeze. God, I don’t need to be wasting money on stupid shit right now, especially after I bought a plane ticket (refusing to let Aiden purchase one for me) and a dress and…

a likely ill-advised scrap of fabric the purports to be lingerie.

But everything with Aiden is complicated.

The one thing that isn’t?

Sex.

That’s simple and feels good—okay, it feels great —and it’s something I can give him that isn’t going to be a pain in the ass.

No complications.

Just the two of us.

So maybe the lingerie was less ill-advised and more…leaning into the things that make sense.

Shaking my head at myself, I carefully loosen the lid of my mascara and focus on the present.

On real life.

This is simply a means to an end—with Aiden doing me a giant solid—and I’m going to do my best to return the favor, to make it good, to make sure it doesn’t explode in his face, to make certain the shrapnel of my life doesn’t wound him.

I’ll take care of things while he’s on the road, give him mind-blowing orgasms when he’s home, and we’re friends, lovers. We’ve always gotten along, always had a great time together. I’ll make sure that doesn’t change either.

Then, eventually…I’ll set him free.

And no, I’m not acknowledging how much the thought of that hurts already.

How much more it will hurt when I get more time with him.

My heart pulses and I clench my teeth together.

Before it goes bad, I will set him free.

“Like a fucking butterfly,” I mutter dryly as I shove the rest of my makeup into my toiletry bag then bring it to my suitcase, stowing it, and zipping everything closed.

That makes this all feel real, but at least my mental pep talk means that I’m not going to run screaming into the heels. I can’t, not just for me, but also for what I want to do.

So, I make it downstairs without incident, heading for the front door.

Unfortunately, that’s where without incident ends.

Because just as I’m reaching for the door, there’s a knock on the other side.

No. Someone’s pounding on the other side.

And there are only two people who think they have the right to announce their presence like this, who think they have the right to me .

My father.

And John—my brother.

“Dammit,” I whisper, pushing my suitcase to the side, parking it against the wall. I drop my tote onto the floor next to it.

And then I shore myself up.

I’ll deal with them.

I always do.

The pounding lets up for a half a second then starts anew, thankfully annoying me enough that I’m running on rage as I flick the lock, twist the handle, and then yank open the door. “What?” I snap, seeing it’s my brother, and thank fuck for small miracles, that he’s alone.

“We need to go to the office,” he snaps. “Immediately.”

My hackles go up and I grind my teeth together so I don’t snap at him, so I don’t throttle him. “I’m busy today,” I grit out, and at least my tone is neutral. “Want to clue me in on what you need?”

“There’s a board meeting and a vote.” He jerks his hand impatiently. “You need to be there for it.”

“Something I’d maybe know about if I wasn’t pushed out of the family business?” I ask dryly.

He jerks again, this time with his whole body. “This shit again?” He sniffs. “I thought you didn’t want any part of our dirty money. ” A sneer. “I was just doing as you asked, remember?”

Convenient he only did it because it made him easier to further his agenda and shut down mine.

But he’s not wrong.

I wanted out of the family business…at least until Grams dropped her bombshell.

But God, I just don’t have the energy to deal with his bullshit today.

Which means I need to do he wants me to do so I can move on with my plans.

I stifle a sigh. “What time is the meeting?”

“Three.”

I glance at my phone. It’s two and my flight is at six. “I can give you an hour,” I tell him. “Any longer and I’m out the door.”

“Fine.” He juts his chin toward his car. “I’ll drive.”

I stifle my snort. Yeah, that’s not going to fucking happen. I’m not going to be conveniently trapped. “I have things to finish up here,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you at the office.”

A long look and I watch the battle in his eyes.

He can push this, can try to force me to ride with him.

But he’ll lose that fight.

Or he can take the small victory and live to control me another day.

“Don’t be late,” he snaps.

I resist taking the bait, grind my teeth together, and wait for him to leave.

Then I go back inside, take a moment to breathe, to shore up my spine.

And…I prepare to face my family.

My nightmare.