Chapter 101: The Other Luna
Luna's POV
"It'd be killer exposure for our project," Tina said, scrolling through her phone as we huddled around a wooden table in the cozy dining room of our rustic little inn. After days of grueling shoots in Dell, our team was finally kicking back with some much-needed drinks and chit-chat.
Dean nodded thoughtfully, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "The International Media Charity Foundation gala is a big deal. Getting our project featured there could really open some doors."
"Where's it being held this year?" I asked, trying to sound casual while secretly praying for a certain answer.
Tina glanced back at her phone. "London."
My heart skipped a beat. London. Where Gabriel was holed up for his Ashford Capital gig.
"That's a hell of a trek," Dean sighed, his enthusiasm fading fast. "Flights, hotels, tickets—it'd cost a fortune. And don't get me started on the gala itself; these things always push for personal donations, like a couple grand per plate to 'support the cause.' We're already scraping by on this budget—who's got that kind of cash lying around?"
The team exchanged uneasy looks around the table. We'd been busting our asses to keep things under budget, and nobody was thrilled about shelling out for an overseas schmooze-fest that might demand extra from our own pockets. The room went quiet, the vibe shifting from excited to deflated.
"I could go," I blurted out before I could second-guess myself. Heads turned my way, and I felt my cheeks heat up. "I mean, I've just wrapped up those script revisions. My schedule's pretty open for the next week, and..." I trailed off, suddenly feeling way too eager.
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You'd rep us in London? Solo?"
I shrugged, playing it cool. "It's not like I haven't done this networking stuff before. Plus, I know a few folks over there who could help me navigate the scene." By "folks," I meant one specific, drop-dead gorgeous pain in the ass with gray-blue eyes and a smirk that still invaded my dreams.
"That'd be a lifesaver, Luna," Tina said, looking genuinely relieved. "I'll shoot you the details tonight."
As the conversation drifted to lighter stuff, I sipped my wine and fought back a grin. London, here I come. Ready or not, Gabriel Ashford.
---
It was just after 9 PM local time when I stepped out of the airport. Excitement and nerves twisted in my gut as I yanked my phone from my pocket.
Three missed calls from Gabriel, plus a voicemail from earlier that afternoon. My pulse raced as I hovered over the notification. Listen now? Or stick to my surprise plan?
I decided to hold off. The shock factor felt way more satisfying than tipping him off. Besides, I had no clue where he was crashing in London. Time for some sleuthing.
Settling into the cab's plush leather seat, I scrolled through my contacts until I hit Julian's number. If anyone knew Gabriel's spot, it'd be his brother.
Julian picked up on the fourth ring, his voice all raspy and rough. "Luna?"
"Hey, Julian," I said, smiling despite the weird edge in his tone. "You sound like crap—are you coming down with something?"
"Just... a rough day," he muttered after a beat. "What's going on?"
"I'm actually in London right now," I said, watching the city lights blur by. "Here for a work event, but I figured I'd swing by and surprise Gabriel. Any idea where he's staying?"
The silence stretched so long I checked if the call had dropped.
"Julian? You still there?"
"Yeah," he said finally, his voice flat as a pancake. "I'm here. You flew all the way to London for Gabriel?"
Something about his tone made me frown. "Not just for him. I'm repping Legacy at this gala, but yeah, I thought it'd be fun to catch up. Is everything okay?"
Julian let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know where he's at right now. But... you might wanna check today's news."
"The news? Why?" Alarm bells started blaring in my head.
"Just look it up, Luna. I gotta run." And just like that, he hung up, leaving me staring at my phone like an idiot.
What the hell was that?
With a knot of dread building, I fired up my social media app and hit the trending topics. It took five seconds to spot it: #GabrielAshford LunaGray London, sitting pretty at number three.
I tapped it, fingers fumbling with nerves. The top headline hit me like a gut punch:
EXCLUSIVE: Luna Gray and Gabriel Ashford's Secret London Rendezvous
Right below? A photo of Gabriel striding into a swanky hotel, trailed by a woman with long dark hair who looked eerily like... me?
"What the actual fuck?" I whispered, zooming in. Her face was half-hidden, but the resemblance was uncanny—same hair, same height, same build, even a coat that could've been mine.
But it wasn't me. No way. I'd only touched down in London less than an hour ago.
My brain spun through wild theories, each one more messed up than the last. Was Gabriel hooking up with my doppelgänger? Some sick setup? Paparazzi screw-up?
I swiped through more pics, heart pounding. Lobby shots, elevator vibes—they looked cozy as hell. Her face was always angled away, but everything else screamed Luna Gray.
"Miss? Where to?" The cab driver's voice snapped me out of it.
I blinked, realizing we'd been parked curbside while I spiraled. A steely resolve kicked in.
"Take me to this hotel," I said, flashing the address from the article.
As the cab merged into traffic, I toyed with calling Gabriel. If he was really with some knockoff version of me, I didn't want to give him a heads-up. But if this was all a giant mix-up, maybe he deserved a shot to explain before I barged in like a jealous ex on a warpath.
Screw it. I shoved my phone back in my pocket, deciding against the call.
"If I was the 'substitute Luna,'" I muttered under my breath, "I might as well bail now and save the embarrassment."