Chapter 60: Begging You to Stay
Gabriel's POV
I couldn't wipe the smirk off my face as Luna cracked the door open, trying to hide me from her assistant. The panic in her eyes was both hilarious and kinda cute—like a kid caught sneaking a kiss behind the bleachers. Watching her squirm while clinging to that professional facade? It only cranked up my desire for her.
From my spot leaning against the desk, I saw her shoulders tense up. She was a lousy liar—always had been. Her voice hitched a notch higher as she stammered, "What? No! I'm just—I mean—"
A choking sound escaped her, and I bit back a laugh. Even in full crisis mode, she was fucking adorable.
"Are you okay?" Tina's worried voice slipped through the narrow gap.
"Fine! Just—water went down the wrong pipe," Luna coughed out. "Thanks for lunch. I'll catch you later, okay?"
"But—"
"Later, Tina! Thanks again!"
The door clicked shut decisively, and Luna whipped around, clutching two paper bags to her chest, her cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink. I arched an eyebrow, savoring every flustered second.
"Smooth," I said dryly. "Real convincing."
"Shut up," she hissed, marching over with fire in those gray-green eyes. "This is all your fault."
I grabbed the bags from her hands. "My fault you can't lie to save your life? I remember you being just as bad at this three years ago." I set them on the coffee table and started unpacking. "Like when Julian caught us in the pool house?"
"Don't remind me," she groaned, pressing her palms to her cheeks like she could shove the blush away. "I told him we were 'inspecting the water filtration system.'"
"And he asked why that required you sitting on my lap." I chuckled at the memory. "In the hot tub. At midnight."
Luna rolled her eyes, but I caught the smile she was fighting. "Your brother never bought any of my excuses."
"Julian always liked you," I said, arranging our lunch on the table with the same precision I brought to everything. "Said you were terrible at sneaking around, which meant you'd never pull one over on me. He figured that was a solid quality in a woman."
She slid onto the couch, eyeing me as I set out the spread. "Are you seriously plating takeout like it's a five-star meal?"
I ignored that. "You know," I said casually, "all this sneaking around is pointless. We're both consenting adults."
"Consenting adults where one is the other's boss," she shot back, taking the napkin I handed her. "Not exactly HR's idea of a good time."
I settled in beside her, our thighs brushing. "I own the company, Luna. HR reports to me, not the other way around."
Her eyes narrowed. "And that's exactly the kind of arrogant bullshit that worries me."
I had to laugh. Most people at Vale tiptoed around me—scared to piss me off, desperate to suck up. Not Luna. She'd never given a damn about my name or my power. It was refreshing. Addictive, even.
"Aren't you busy?" she asked after a beat, poking at her salad. "Don't you have a media empire to run or something?"
I studied her profile—the soft curve of her nose, those full lips. "I'm right where I want to be," I said honestly. "Everything else can wait."
"Even the Coleman meeting?" The question sounded casual, but I caught the edge in her voice.
Ah, so that's what's eating at her.
"The Coleman meeting was pure business," I said evenly. "Christopher wanted to talk investments in our new streaming platform. Emma was there because he's grooming her to take over their investment side someday."
Luna didn't look convinced. "Your mom seemed pretty chummy with them."
"My mom gets chummy with anyone who has enough zeros in their bank account." I pulled out my phone and showed her the screen. "Check this out. Nineteen missed calls from Luke Bennett in the last hour. He's the one showing the Colemans around—not me."
She frowned at it. "Luke Bennett? The Core Media guy?"
"The very same." I pocketed the phone. "He and Christopher go way back. I just made the intro."
"What's he like?" Her fingers drummed the table—a dead giveaway she was fishing.
I hid a smile. "Luke? He's... adequate."
"Adequate?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's all you've got on one of the biggest players in entertainment?"
I shrugged, loving her barely hidden jealousy—first over Emma, now this. "He's got cash, solid business sense. Plays it safe." I took a bite of my sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "Word is, he's wife-hunting."
Luna's eyes widened a fraction. "A wife?"
"Yeah. Not the hearts-and-flowers type, though. More like a business deal." I watched her closely. "He wants someone presentable, smart, fertile—bonus if they've got industry ties. One kid, then separate bedrooms, from what I hear."
"That's... cold."
"That's Luke," I said. "Your friend Sophia might wanna watch her step."
She went quiet, wheels turning in her head. I could tell she was wondering if her bestie was heading into the exact trap she dreaded for herself.
After a bit, Luna stood and stretched. "I need to crash for a few before my afternoon meeting," she said. "You can clean up and get back to your CEO throne."
Her brush-off was so classic Luna—straightforward and unapologetic—that it made me grin. Anyone else would be begging for more time. But not her. Never her.
"As you wish," I said, gathering the trash with quick efficiency.
By the time I was done, she'd stretched out on the little sofa in the corner of her office, eyes shut, breathing steady. She looked younger like that, the usual crease between her brows gone. A beam of afternoon sun lit up her hair, turning the chestnut strands to glowing gold.
I stepped closer quietly, tucking the throw blanket over her shoulders. My fingers brushed the curve of her cheekbone—just a light touch I couldn't resist.
To my surprise, her hand shot up, grabbing mine in a firm grip. I froze, bracing for her eyes to snap open and that fiery indignation. But they stayed closed, her breathing deep.
She's asleep, I realized. Still, her fingers laced through mine, holding on like she needed an anchor.
"Don't," she mumbled, her forehead furrowing. "Please... don't go."
The raw vulnerability in her sleepy voice hit me like a gut punch. I crouched beside the sofa, my free hand smoothing hair from her damp forehead. A nightmare?
Her grip tightened, nails biting into my skin. "Stay," she whispered, barely audible. "Don't leave me again."