Page 32 of Blue Moon

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I understand why you don’t want to be the centre of attention, and if you need to leave?—”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“But—”

“If anyone asks, I’m just doing my job. Outside, I’m a bodyguard and nothing more. You don’t look at me, you don’t touch me, and feel free to bitch in my general direction.”

“What about inside? In my apartment?”

He flashed me a smile. “Inside, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“They’re not here. Someone took the earrings and left the bag.”

“How about the note?”

I held it out between a thumb and finger and shuddered. “Here you go.”

Ryder had driven us to the theatre in a black SUV, and he’d made me sit in the back seat, hidden by tinted windows, while he got behind the wheel. Before, when I’d had more money, I’d had a designated driver too, and the bodyguard would ride with him in the front while I sat with Jubilee or sometimes Mom, plotting my next outrageous social media post.

That was a lifetime ago.

In San Gallicano, Ryder had never driven me around. At first, I’d stayed on Kory’s boat, and then we’d been confined to the sanctuary. When we left Valentine Cay, Ryder had sat in the back of the vehicle with me, our heads down. I’d been shaking while he’d been plotting to kill people, but despite the situation, I’d felt safe. This new evolution of our relationship, this forced separation—even if it was only by a few feet—felt off. Okay, okay, a week ago, I hadn’t wanted Ryder anywhere near me, and I’d told myself it was because of his sexuality. But really, I’d just been mad at him for lying. Although if he hadn’t lied, I’d never have gotten to know him and I still wouldn’t have wanted him anywhere near me, so… Yeah. My head was officially messed up.

Ryder took Mark A’s note and read it.

“This was the first communication?”

“I think so. I mean, I haven’t seen any others, but Jubilee used to deal with my mail.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Uh, no? We’re barely speaking at the moment.”

“Where was the bag when you first saw it?”

“Right here on the table.”

“How do the gifts get delivered? Who brings them to the table?”

“How should I know?”

“Did anyone check the cameras? There are three in the hotel lobby and another in the hallway that leads to the theatre.”

“It’s cute that you think I might know the answer to that.”

“Where’s the security centre?”

I shrugged because I didn’t know the answer to that either.

The theatre was quiet today. I’d swallowed my nerves and called Frank Serafini’s assistant to say we were dropping by to pick up an item I’d left behind, which I’d had to repeat three times, not because the line was bad but because she couldn’t believe I’d run an errand myself. She’d offered to put whatever I’d forgotten in a cab and send it over, then finally agreed to have a staff member meet us at the VVIP entrance, the one hidden away in a covered parking garage. Now our escort was standing over by the dressing room door, picking at her fingernails and pretending not to watch us.

“Hey, you!” I called.

She looked back through the door, then pointed at herself. Duh, yes, I was talking to her.

“Where do we find the security centre?”

She glanced behind her again, this time clearly hoping for help. “The control centre? Uh, is there a problem?”

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