Chapter 157: Midnight Questions

Chapter 157: Midnight Questions
Gabriel's POV

I pulled up outside The Mayfair, killing the engine of my Aston Martin but hanging back for a sec. Luna's apartment windows were pitch black.

I grabbed my phone and dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hey," her voice came through, sounding wiped out but still warm.

"Guess where I am?" I asked, keeping my tone low and a little playful.

Luna sighed. "Don't tell me you're parked outside my building again."

"I just happened to be 'passing by' your place," I said, a grin sneaking into my voice.

"Passing by? Yeah, right," she shot back, not buying it for a second. "The Mayfair's nowhere near Ashford Estate. You totally did this on purpose."

Busted. "Maybe," I admitted. "When are you heading home? I thought your shoot wrapped up."

"We're wrapping the final episode tonight," she explained. "The whole crew's still here. It's gonna be a late one—probably won't finish till around dawn."

I glanced at the dashboard clock and frowned. "That's hours from now."

"Which is why you should head home and we can link up tomorrow," she suggested, all reasonable-like.

I gripped the steering wheel, suddenly dead set on seeing her. "Luna. Let me come be with you."

"No way, don't come!" Her response was quick and firm.

That hit harder than I'd admit. "Why? Don't you wanna see me?"

"It's not that," Luna said with a sigh. "Your mom swung by today, and the crew's already buzzing with gossip. If you show up too, we'll be trending on social media by morning."

I eased up a bit. At least it wasn't about us. "So what? Let 'em talk."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Big-Shot CEO. Some of us actually give a damn about office drama."

"But it's your wrap party," I pushed back. "I should be there with you."

There was a pause, and I could almost feel her walls cracking. "Look, we won't actually wrap till four or five AM. Why don't you crash at my place and catch some Z's? Showing up too early would just stress me out."

I was already out of the car, striding toward the building entrance. "Deal."

---

"Your mom came to apologize to me," Luna said the second she knew I was inside her apartment.

"I know," I replied, "Did it help?"

"Wait," she sounded thrown. "You knew? You sent her?"

I shrugged, even though she couldn't see it. "I mentioned it. But she wouldn't have come if she didn't want to. My mom's not exactly the type you can push around."

There was a beat of silence, then Luna's voice came back, kinda thick like she was holding back emotion. "In that case, I'll let you crash here one more night. I won't boot you out."

"Just crash?" I teased, dropping my voice low and suggestive. "You mean like, actual sleeping? But fair warning—I'm terrible at keeping my hands to myself around you. We might end up 'accidentally' turning it into a sleepover party for two."

"La la la, I can't hear you! My ears are getting all dirty now!" She made these over-the-top plugging sounds before hanging up on me.

I cracked up, pocketing my phone. Luna's apartment felt more like home than my own spot ever did. With time to kill, I figured I'd tidy up a bit. She'd been slammed with the production, and the sink was stacked with dishes. I rolled up my sleeves and dove in.

After scrubbing the last plate, I dialed my assistant. "Tyler, I need a favor. Have a bouquet of violets ready for me first thing tomorrow."

"Of course, sir," Tyler replied without missing a beat. "Actually, Mr. Bennett just showed up at the office looking for you. Let me patch him through."

The line clicked, and Luke's voice came on while I was gathering Luna's clothes for the laundry. "Where the hell are you? You bailed the second the clock hit six?"

I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder. "I'm the CEO," I said dryly.

"If the CEO's gotta pull overtime every damn day, the company's probably circling the drain," I added.

Luke laughed. "Where are you now?"

"Home," I said simply.

"You don't have anyone waiting at home," he countered. "Come out—I need to talk to you about something."

I grabbed the phone properly. "Doing housework. No time. What, you don't have a home?"

Luke took a deep breath, and I could picture him forcing a grin. "So only you got a home now? Rubbing it in?"

I smirked to myself as I sorted lights from darks. "Sometimes I really envy you, Bennett. Married but living like a bachelor—no one to check in with."

"Unlike me," I went on, "getting a sneak peek at married life already."

"Fuck you," Luke scoffed. "As your buddy, I'm worried about you. How long you been chasing Luna? You two even official yet?"

I set the phone down to start the washing machine. "We're not officially back together," I admitted.

"But the reason," I added with total straight-faced bullshit, "is 'cause Luna wants to pull off some epic, romantic gesture first. Who am I to say no?"

"Bullshit," Luke said flat-out. "You're just making that up."

I grinned. Out in the world, your story's whatever you say it is. Who could call me on it?

"You coming out or what?" Luke pressed.

"What's so urgent you can't spill over the phone?" I shot back.

"You really gonna make me say it here?" He sounded exasperated.

"Luke, you're thirty. Why you acting like some shy kid? Just spit it out."

"FINE!" Luke snapped. "How do you fix things when your sex life's gone to shit?"

I hadn't seen that coming. For a second, I was surprised he'd ask me, but hey—who else? Oliver would be even more clueless.

My advice was straightforward: "Do it more."

Luna and I weren't always on the same page either. We'd figured it out.

"..." Luke went radio silent.

"You're welcome," I said, all chipper.

"I shouldn't have asked," he muttered.

"What, you don't buy it?" I was having way too much fun.

"It seems kinda... ungentlemanly."

I burst out laughing. "Trust me, bad moves are way more offensive than going for round two. Or three."

"..." More silence.

I could tell he regretted it. I'd be ribbing him about this forever—and the best part? He couldn't prove me wrong.

---

With the clothes churning away, I headed to the bedroom to straighten up. Luna's nightstand was buried under books—mostly scripts and business mags. As I neatened the stack, a glossy quarterly slipped out, and something fluttered from between the pages.

I picked it up—a folded check. Curious, I unfolded it—and froze.

It was from Isabella Devon to Luna, dated just a couple days ago.

I stared at it, my mind spinning. Why would Luna borrow money from Isabella? She had my black card, and I'd told her a million times: what's mine is hers. If she needed cash, all she had to do was ask.

"She still doesn't trust me enough," I muttered, tracing the check's edge with my thumb. This felt off, like there was a bigger story lurking.

Carefully, I refolded it and tucked it back exactly where it'd been. I wouldn't bring it up. If Luna wanted me to know, she'd tell me.

But as I finished tidying the room, that nagging unease wouldn't quit. What else was Luna keeping from me?