Ten Thousand Reasons I Refuse To Be Your Luna

CHAPTER 5: Reason #5

“You can’t afford to lose this contract.”

Lucien set a thick proposal file in front of me before taking his seat. Across the conference table sat executives from Aurelius International, one of the biggest luxury lifestyle corporations in Europe. If Star Global landed this partnership, my company would not just be a fashion empire anymore. We would officially expand into luxury cosmetics, designer fragrances, and high-end retail all across Europe.

This was the biggest opportunity I had worked toward for three straight years. I flipped through the documents one last time, my fingers a little unsteady even though I would never admit that out loud.

“The board arrives in two hours,” Lucien said. “This deal could change Star Global forever. You’ve prepared enough.” I agreed with the Chairman at that, “I hope so.” He smiled. “I don’t hope. I expect.” That confidence settled my nerves, at least for a little while.

By noon, the Grand Meridian Hotel had turned into a fortress of expensive suits, luxury brands, investors, and security personnel. Everyone important was here. Business leaders. Fashion executives. Government representatives. Every smile hid an agenda. Every handshake was worth millions.

Clara adjusted my blazer and whispered, “You look perfect.” I sighed looking at the mirror, “I feel exhausted.” She just gave that fake smile on her face, “Nobody can tell.”

Of course they couldn’t. That was the whole point. I walked into the ballroom with cameras flashing from every direction. Another performance. Another mask I had gotten so good at wearing I almost forgot it was one.

The negotiation got delayed. Apparently one of Aurelius International’s directors refused to step into the ballroom until extra security inspections were finished. The organizers apologized over and over, and I decided to wait it out in the executive lounge instead. Coffee. Silence. Exactly what I needed.

I had barely taken my first sip when someone walked in carrying a few boxes of security equipment. Black uniform. Communication earpiece. Security badge. I barely bothered to look up.

“Excuse me, Miss.” The voice sounded familiar. I slowly raised my head and shook in surprise, “…You.”

Morrette Mitchell stood there in an all-black security uniform, hair combed neatly, his usual mechanic’s jacket nowhere in sight. If I hadn’t already known his face, I would have believed he actually worked here.

He looked just as surprised as I felt. “You?” I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I couldn’t find that word, “Working,” he said, no hesitation at all. “As a security guard?” I asked.

“Temporary assignment,” he simply said. I was not convinced. Not even a little. But there was something about the way he said it, so smooth, so ready, that made my stomach do a strange little flip I chose to ignore completely.

Morrette carried a small equipment case toward one of the checkpoints inside the lounge. His movements were calm. Too calm. Almost calculated. I watched him quietly, and every few seconds his eyes swept the room, not nervous, not distracted, but professional. Like he wasn’t guarding people at all. Like he was searching for someone.

Our eyes met. “What?” he asked. I looked away fast. “Nothing.” He smiled, moving closer closer to me,” You’ve been staring.” I became uncomfortable, “I’ve been observing.”

“Same thing,” he said. “No, it isn’t,” I said, like I knew better. He chuckled under his breath, low and quiet, and something about that sound settled somewhere in my chest I did not want to examine too closely. “You always have to win every conversation, don’t you.”

“I usually do,” I gave him a confident answer to that. Before he could answer, one of the hotel managers hurried over. “Mr. Mitchell. The basement cameras are offline again.”

“I’ll check them,” he answered the manager. Basement, why would hotel security care that much about a basement? He disappeared through a staff-only door, and something inside me went curious. Too curious.

The contract meeting finally began. Aurelius representatives filed in one after another. Introductions, presentations, financial projections, everything moving exactly as planned. Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. The presentation screen went black, and the whole ballroom fell silent.

A technician bolted toward the control room. “Backup generators!” Nothing happened. Several security officers spread across the room fast. One of them was Morrette. He was not looking at the guests. He was watching one man in a gray business suit near the back wall. The stranger quietly slipped out through a side exit, and Morrette went after him without a second’s pause.

Without thinking, I excused myself from the meeting too. “Miss Star?” Clara looked confused. “I’ll be right back,” I said to her. She opened her mouth to argue. I was already gone.

The hallway outside was nearly empty. I spotted Morrette rounding a corner and caught up to him, whispering, “What are you doing?” He did not even turn around. “Go back. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Then stop acting so suspicious,” I said to him. He sighed. “I don’t have time for this.” He kept walking. I followed anyway, my heels clicking softly against the marble, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the contract waiting upstairs.

The corridor led us down toward the hotel’s underground parking garage. Dark. Quiet. Only a handful of lights still on. The man in the gray suit stood beside a black SUV while another man handed him a metal briefcase. Neither of them noticed us.

Morrette stopped behind a concrete pillar and pulled me gently in beside him. His expression had changed completely. Serious. Focused. Almost dangerous in a way that made my breath catch.

I leaned in close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him despite the cold air of the garage. “Who are they?”

“I told you to go back,” he persist. “Answer me,” I said, not holding back. Instead of answering, he pulled me even farther behind the pillar, his hand firm on my arm, and for one strange heartbeat all I could think about was how steady he felt, how safe, even standing in the middle of whatever this was.

Then a gunshot ripped through the garage, glass shattered. Both men scattered in opposite directions. Masked attackers rushed out from the shadows, and Morrette reacted instantly, shoving me down behind a parked car. “Stay down!”

The calm mechanic I thought I knew disappeared completely. His movements turned sharp. Precise. Fast enough that I could barely track them. Within seconds he disarmed one attacker, then blocked a strike from another and knocked the man cold.

I stared at him, stunned. A mechanic did not fight like that. Not even close. Crouched there behind the car, watching him move like he had done this a hundred times before, I felt something shift in my chest that scared me more than the gunfire did. Because underneath the fear, underneath the confusion, there was something else too. Something that looked a lot like wanting to know exactly who this man really was.

One of the attackers shouted, “Forget the briefcase! Find the file!” Another answered, “The Alpha must not get it!”

The words froze me in place. The Alpha? Before I could make sense of any of it, one masked man turned straight toward where I was hiding. His eyes locked onto mine. He slowly raised his weapon, and smiled at me.