What the Moon Made

WHILE SHE SLEEPS - THEO

A thin crack runs through the crystal.

No.

Striking Willa was not a mistake.

It was a decision.

And soon, he will have to live with mine.

I set the damaged glass on the bar before it shatters completely in my hand.

From the bedroom, Willa’s heart continues its steady rhythm.

I listen to it.

I have been listening to it since the first moment she walked into my office.

I heard her before I saw her.

The quick, nervous beat of her heart reached me through the closed doors, accompanied by Elena’s quiet voice and the softer sound of Willa’s shoes crossing the marble floor.

Then her scent followed.

Warm vanilla.

Rain-soaked earth.

Something faintly floral beneath it all.

And something else.

Something I had never encountered in another human.

It reached inside me and pulled.

Every instinct I possessed sharpened at once. My head lifted. The papers in front of me ceased to exist. The conversation I had been having over the phone became meaningless noise.

Then Elena opened the door.

And there she was.

Wilhelmina Riley Bennett.

She stood in the doorway gripping a notebook against her chest, wearing a professional smile that did nothing to conceal how nervous she was.

Her hazel eyes found mine.

Her heart stumbled.

So did something inside me.

I had lived long enough to become unimpressed by beauty. I had met actresses, models, heiresses and women whose faces appeared on billboards across the world.

None of them prepared me for her.

Willa’s beauty was not cold or perfected.

It was alive.

It was in the dusting of freckles across her face. The warm, fair skin that seemed to glow beneath my office lights. The deep auburn hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves. The expressive eyes that revealed every emotion she tried to hide.

She was five feet four inches tall and visibly resisting the urge to flee.

I wanted to cross the room to her.

Not walk.

Not offer my hand.

I wanted to close the distance, bury my face against her hair and understand why every part of me had reacted to her presence.

The thought was so sudden and foreign that I remained seated.

“Ms. Bennett,” I had said.

My voice came out rougher than I intended.

She swallowed.

Her pulse skipped again.

“Mr. De Luca.”

Then she smiled.

A small, uncertain curve of her lips.

I knew in that instant that I was in trouble.

I had tried to keep the interview professional. For nearly three full minutes, I succeeded.

Then I moved my chair closer.

I told myself it was because she spoke quietly.

It was a lie.

I wanted to be near her.

I wanted her scent in my lungs and her heartbeat close enough that I could distinguish nervousness from excitement. I wanted to know whether it changed when I said her name.

It did.

Every time.

She had asked intelligent questions about my conservation work and the foundation. She was prepared, perceptive and far more observant than most of the journalists who came into my office.

But I hardly remembered my own answers.

I remembered her.

The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating.

The crease between her brows whenever she suspected I was avoiding a question.

The way her fingers tightened around her pen when I leaned closer.

When she finally left, Elena had stared at me as if I had grown a second head.

She had never seen me behave that way.

Neither had I.

I spent the rest of the afternoon telling myself my reaction was curiosity.

At dinner, that lie became impossible to maintain.

Now Willa is in my bed.

Injured.

Because I let her leave the restaurant alone.

I had known something was wrong. I heard it every time she checked her phone. I saw it in the disappointment she tried to conceal behind sarcastic comments and polite smiles.

I should have insisted that Sin drive her home.

I should have followed her.

I should have—

The private elevator chimes.

My head turns toward the entrance as the doors open.

Dr. Marcus Vale steps into the penthouse carrying a black medical bag. His silver-streaked hair is disheveled, and his coat has been thrown over a shirt that is buttoned incorrectly.

He looks irritated.

He always looks irritated when I call him after midnight.

“Where is she?”

“My bedroom.”

His eyebrows rise.

“Do not.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“Actually, I was about to ask what happened.”

“I don’t know.”

His expression changes as he follows me down the hallway.

I explain what little I know. She collided with me on the sidewalk. She was crying, disoriented and unable to stand steadily. There is a bruise on her face, and I detected blood at the back of her head.

Vale says nothing until we reach the bedroom.

Willa has not moved.

The moment I see her, the pressure inside my chest eases.

Only slightly.

Vale approaches the bed and sets his bag on the nightstand. When he reaches toward her, a warning sound catches in my throat.

His hand stops.

He looks at me slowly.

“Would you prefer to examine her yourself?”

I cross my arms.

He waits.

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He turns back to Willa.

I remain beside the bed while he checks her pulse, breathing and pupils. He carefully examines the back of her head, parting her hair until he finds the injury.

“There’s swelling, but the skin is barely broken,” he says.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“I’m still examining her.”

My jaw tightens.

Vale glances at me. “Hovering will not make me work faster.”

“I am not hovering.”

“You’re close enough to breathe down my neck.”

I take one step backward.

It is the best I can offer.

Vale continues his examination, checking her neck, arms and ribs for additional injuries. The mark on her cheek draws his attention last.

His mouth flattens.

“This wasn’t caused by the fall.”

“No.”

“Do you know who struck her?”

“Not yet.”

There must be something in my voice because Vale looks up sharply.

“Theodore.”

“I said I don’t know.”

“That isn’t what concerns me.”

“Then concern yourself with your patient.”

He holds my gaze for another moment before returning his attention to Willa.

Finally, he pulls the blankets back over her.

“She appears to have a concussion.”

The word sends a new surge of fury through me.

“How severe?”

“I cannot determine that with certainty from an examination here. Her breathing and vital signs are stable, and I don’t see an immediate indication of a serious skull injury, but head injuries can change. She must be monitored closely.”

“I’ll monitor her.”

“She may be confused when she wakes. She could experience dizziness, nausea, sensitivity to light, memory loss or difficulty concentrating for the next day or two.”

“How long until she wakes?”

“Possibly within the next few hours. Possibly not until morning.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It’s the only honest one I have.”

I look at Willa.

She appears peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Vale closes his medical bag. “If she becomes difficult to wake, vomits repeatedly, has a seizure, develops weakness on one side, or her breathing changes, she goes to the hospital immediately. No arguments.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

My attention snaps back to him.

“You have an unfortunate habit of believing that enough money and intimidation can bend reality to your will.”

“They usually can.”

“Not with this.”

I look at her again.

“I understand.”

Vale removes a card from his bag and sets it on the nightstand. “Call me when she wakes. I want to speak with her and examine her again in the morning.”

“You will.”

He studies me.

Then his eyes move to Willa, to the oversized shirt covering her, and back to me.

“Does she know she’s here?”

“No.”

“Does she know what you are?”

My body goes still.

“No.”

“Then I suggest you remember how frightening this situation may appear from her perspective when she wakes up in a strange man’s bed.”

The words bother me more than they should.

I would never hurt her.

But Willa doesn’t know that.

She will wake in an unfamiliar room wearing clothing that is not hers, with no memory of how she arrived.

I should have thought of that.

“Sin will walk you out,” I say.

Vale nods. “Call me if anything changes.”

When he leaves, silence returns to the bedroom.

I sit on the edge of the chair beside the bed and study Willa’s face.

Vale is right.

She may be afraid when she wakes.

The thought is unbearable.

I consider calling an overnight nurse. A woman who can be here when Willa wakes. Someone who can help her bathe or change if she feels uncomfortable accepting assistance from me.

I take out my phone.

Then I hesitate.

Willa has already had enough decisions made for her tonight.

No one will touch her or help her bathe unless she asks.

Tomorrow, when she is awake, I will offer her every option. A private nurse. New clothing. A hotel room. Transportation to a hospital or anywhere else she feels safe.

The choice will be hers.

For tonight, all I can do is protect her.

I turn the chair so I am facing the bed and loosen the cuffs of my shirt.

Minutes pass.

Then hours.

The city grows quieter beyond the windows. Traffic thins. Lights disappear one floor at a time as the people below surrender to sleep.

I do not.

Every few minutes, I check Willa’s breathing.

I listen to the steady beat of her heart.

Once, she shifts beneath the blankets and whispers something I cannot understand. I am beside her before the sound has fully left her lips.

Her face tightens as though she is trapped inside a nightmare.

I reach for her, then stop before touching her.

“Willa.”

Her heartbeat quickens.

“You’re safe.”

I don’t know if she can hear me.

I say it anyway.

“No one is going to hurt you here.”

Slowly, the tension leaves her face.

I return to the chair, but I move it closer.

Near three in the morning, Sin sends me a message.

He has located her apartment.

He has also identified the man who lives there.

Kyle Dawson.

Willa’s boyfriend.

I stare at the name until the letters blur beneath a red haze.

Then I lock my phone and place it facedown on the nightstand.

Tonight belongs to her.

My anger can wait until morning.

By four, the bruise on her cheek has darkened.

By five, the sky beyond the windows begins to fade from black to deep blue.

By six, the first line of sunlight appears between the buildings.

I remain beside her.

Watching.

Listening.

Waiting.

I do not sleep.

I do not look away.

And as morning spreads across the room, I make Willa a silent promise.

Whatever she is running from, she will never have to face it alone again.