Page 77 of Blue Moon

“Russian honey cake, although the version Marcel makes is more like thin cookies sandwiched with sour cream. You want some?”

“I’d love some.”

“I’ll tell him.”

Give me strength. “If he’s bringing packages here, he needs to leave them at the desk.”

“Are you just being cautious, or is there a legitimate threat?”

“I have a stalker who sends me takeout,” Luna said before Ryder could come up with a response.

“Saves cooking, I guess.”

Not helping.

“Ryder won’t let me eat any of it.”

“Because the guy’s a nutjob. He thinks Luna is the reincarnation of Cleopatra, and he’s Mark Antony.”

Tulsa studied Luna with a critical eye. “No, I’m not seeing it. Did you know that in Ancient Rome, prostitutes were required to wear blonde wigs as a mark of their profession?”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “I was starting to like you, but now I’ve changed my mind.”

“Let me give you a tip—don’t be too likeable. People try to take advantage.” Tulsa was definitely taking her own advice. She wasn’t the friendly type. “You have a name for this guy? A real name?”

If only. “Not yet. He’s careful. He places the orders anonymously, and we haven’t yet worked out how he’s getting gifts to Luna at the theatre. One showed up at reception, and another appeared in her dressing room.”

“Oh!” Luna bounced on her toes. “I forgot to tell you, I found out who has the earrings. You know Tiana, who looks after my costumes?”

Ryder shook his head.

“Well, anyway, she took them for her niece to play dress-up, but her niece lost them. She says if they show up again, she’ll bring them back.”

That was one mystery solved, even if the outcome wasn’t ideal.

“I assume Blackwood is looking into this?” Tulsa asked.

“That’s right.”

“One of you needs to give me your number, and I’ll get Marcel to warn you before he shows up.”

Ryder handed over a card. “Call me.”

Tulsa batted her lashes, all fake Southern charm. “Sure will, sugar.”

And then she was gone.

Ryder sat on the weight bench in Blackwood’s gym and groaned.

“You must be joking.”

Good news, Mack had said. Elene was definitely interested in Ryder’s alter ego. Tripp Carrington had been exchanging messages with the bitch who’d stolen Luna’s money for the past week, but she was careful. She’d masked her location, although she claimed to be in Tbilisi still.

The bad news? She was pushing for a video call.

“Wouldn’t you be careful too if your hobby was conning dumb-ass men out of their fortunes?” Mack asked.

“Yeah, I would.”

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