Page 180 of Blue Moon

“Yes, and you need to send signed pictures to the nice ones. Jubilee used to batch them up and do that once a week.”

“Okay, sure, I can do that.”

When we got back to Vegas, Michelle had climbed into her cousin’s truck without so much as a goodbye, but Kacie had accepted the offer of a ride back to her apartment. Only to find that someone else was living there. The landlord had thrown out all her stuff when she didn’t pay the rent, and her boss had fired her when she didn’t call in. Apparently, being kidnapped wasn’t a valid excuse for missing a shift.

Anyhow, I needed an assistant, and Kacie needed a job, so here she was. This was her first assistanting gig, so she constantly asked questions and made the occasional mistake as she worked out how to do things, but at least she wasn’t reporting my every move back to my manipulative half-sister. We’d found her a one-bedroom apartment in the same building as mine, and she didn’t mind moving to Richmond in a few months.

In short, life wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely heading in that direction.

“I can’t believe she sold the freaking story! Most of this isn’t even true. I did not ‘embrace my new life as queen to a madman.’”

The celebgossip exclusive was titled “Captive: My Days Imprisoned with Luna Maara,” and rumour said that Michelle had been paid six figures for dishing the dirt. She claimed she’d been “locked in a cell and forced to become a slave.” Never mind that the cell had been bigger than her apartment and Kacie had done most of the work. Oh, oh, and of course she’d mentioned Stockholm syndrome. I’d have been surprised if she hadn’t. Yes, Mark Antony had done wrong, I knew that, but it didn’t mean Michelle wasn’t obnoxious.

Ryder slid a plate of croissants in front of me. “I know, moon.”

I gasped at the next sentence. “And Rocky is not vicious!” At the sound of his name, he nudged my thigh, and I tore off a tiny piece of croissant. “Who’s the cutest? You’re the cutest.”

“Do I have to be jealous of the dog?” Ryder asked, sitting down with coffee for both of us.

“You’re the hottest.” I allowed myself to stare for a moment and smiled dreamily. “You could totally get your own T-shirt line.”

He glanced down at the tight tank top he was wearing. “Ribbed, for her pleasure?”

“Something like that. And please never wear anything but grey sweatpants.”

“Could get awkward at all those fancy award shows I’ll have to escort you to.”

“I suppose I could make an exception. I wouldn’t want your cock to become a TikTok sensation.”

“Hell no.”

The truth was, I couldn’t even see myself going to any award shows in the near future. My dream evening involved Ryder, his fingers, and zero interruptions from other people. And sex, eventually. I thought things would have taken a setback after the kidnapping, but the opposite was true. The first night of freedom, when we’d stayed in a light, airy room at the Cathouse, all I’d wanted was his hands all over me. And some of Michelle’s words had a kernel of truth in them—I did like to get my own way.

This was actually my second breakfast today. The first thing I’d feasted on was Ryder.

My phone buzzed, and I checked the message.

Jubilee

Just thought I should warn you—Mom’s on her way to your apartment with doctors. I think she wants you to go to rehab again. She says you’re having a breakdown.

“You have to be kidding me,” I muttered.

“What happened?”

“Mom thinks I’m having a breakdown.”

“Just ignore her.”

“I can’t—Jubilee says she’s on her way over with doctors.”

“Doctors? What’s she gonna do? Go for an involuntary psych hold?”

“Who knows? Probably.”

“Want me to have her removed?”

“Only if you want whoever is removing her to be on every gossip blog in the world.”

---