What the Moon Made

NOT A DATE

Charger is waiting beside the elevator by the time I shut down my computer.

He pushes away from the wall as I approach, straightening to his full, unreasonable height.

“Ready?”

“For lunch,” I say. “Not an international extraction mission.”

“With Mr. De Luca, those can occasionally be the same thing.”

I stop walking.

Charger presses the elevator button.

“Was that a joke?”

“Of course.”

“You answered too quickly.”

The doors slide open, and he gestures for me to enter.

I step inside slowly. “Should I be concerned?”

“Always.”

He follows me into the elevator without another word.

I stare at his reflection in the mirrored wall. His expression is perfectly neutral, but I’m almost positive he’s enjoying himself.

“I’m beginning to understand why Theo assigned you to me.”

“And why is that?”

“You’re both impossible.”

His mouth twitches.

The ride to Theo’s building is short, although I spend most of it rehearsing everything I intend to say.

He owns my newspaper.

He moved my belongings without asking.

He bought enough clothing to dress me through four seasons, three career changes, and at least one royal wedding.

He knows my bra size.

Then there is the security detail.

I like Charger more than I expected, but that isn’t the point. Theo made another decision about my life without consulting me. He seems to think that because he rescued me, he has somehow acquired the right to reorganize my existence.

It’s controlling.

Arrogant.

Completely unacceptable.

It doesn’t matter that he bought the exact foundation I use or remembered that I like my eggs scrambled. Those things don’t excuse him.

By the time Charger pulls beneath the black-and-silver tower bearing the De Luca Holdings name, I am furious all over again.

Or at least I’m trying to be.

The moment I step from the SUV and look up at the building, my confidence falters.

Theo’s name is everywhere.

It is engraved into the stone above the entrance. Embossed on the directory in the marble lobby. Displayed discreetly on the security badges worn by the guards.

All this time, I thought of him as a wealthy businessman who happened to agree to an interview.

I hadn’t understood the size of his world.

Or how easily he could reach into mine.

Charger places one hand near the small of my back without touching me and guides me through the lobby. Security waves us through without checking either of our badges.

Apparently, being escorted by a blond mountain grants unlimited access.

People glance at us as we pass.

No.

They glance at me.

Some are merely curious. Others look openly confused. A few recognize me, their eyes dropping to my clothes before moving back to my face.

I try not to imagine what they’re thinking.

The private elevator carries us to the top floor. My stomach tightens as the numbers climb.

I tell myself it has nothing to do with seeing Theo again.

Nothing at all.

The doors open into the familiar reception area.

Elena sits behind her desk, immaculate in a cream-colored dress. Her dark hair falls over one shoulder in polished waves, and her red lipstick is perfect enough to have been applied with architectural equipment.

Her eyes land on Charger first.

Then they move to me.

Her expression changes.

It happens so quickly that I might have missed it if I weren’t already watching her. Her lips tighten. Her gaze travels from my styled hair to my black blouse, pauses at my shoes, and returns to my face.

“Wilhelmina.”

The way she says my full name makes it sound like a diagnosis.

“Elena.”

I approach her desk while Charger stops near the elevators.

“I’m here to see Theo.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rise.

“Mr. De Luca is occupied.”

“He asked me to meet him for lunch.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

I pull my phone from my purse. “He texted me.”

“That isn’t an appointment.”

I stare at her.

Behind me, Charger shifts his weight.

Elena hears it and lifts her chin. “Mr. De Luca’s schedule is extremely demanding. You cannot simply arrive whenever you please and expect him to rearrange his day.”

“I arrived because he told me to.”

“I’ll call and confirm.”

She reaches for the phone on her desk.

“It’s fine. I know where his office is.”

I move past her.

Elena stands so abruptly that her chair rolls backward.

“You can’t go in there.”

Her voice is sharper now.

I stop with my hand inches from the office door.

“I was invited.”

“All guests must be announced.”

“I’m not exactly a guest.”

The words leave my mouth before I can consider what they imply.

Elena’s eyes narrow.

“And what exactly are you?”

Good question.

Employee?

Houseguest?

Damsel in distress?

Woman whose underwear is currently arranged inside Theo De Luca’s closet?

I’m saved from answering when the office door opens.

Theo fills the doorway.

My thoughts scatter.

He wears a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled below his elbows and dark trousers fitted perfectly to his long legs. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and black ink.

His gaze finds mine immediately.

Something changes in his face.

It isn’t quite a smile. It is deeper than that—an unmistakable flash of satisfaction that darkens his eyes and steals the breath from my lungs.

“Willa.”

My name sounds nothing like it did in Elena’s mouth.

“Theo.”

Beside me, Elena goes perfectly still.

“Mr. De Luca,” she says, her tone suddenly soft and professional. “I was about to inform you that Ms. Bennett had arrived.”

“No need.”

His eyes remain on me.

“She attempted to enter your office without being announced.”

“She may.”

Elena blinks. “Sir?”

“Willa may enter my office whenever she wishes. She does not need to call, make an appointment, or confirm with me first.”

His voice is calm, but the authority behind it leaves no room for discussion.

Color climbs Elena’s throat.

I should enjoy this more than I do. Elena had only been trying to follow the procedures required by her job, even if she had done it with all the warmth of a prison warden.

“It’s okay, Theo,” I say. “She was only doing her job.”

Elena’s eyes snap toward me.

The look burning inside them has nothing to do with office policy.

Jealousy.

It’s so fierce and unexpected that I almost take a step back.

Theo doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he notices and simply doesn’t care.

He extends his hand toward me.

“Come.”

There it is again.

Not a request.

I ignore his hand and walk past him into the office on my own.

Small victories.

The door closes behind us.

Silence settles over the room.

I turn around.

Theo is standing with his back against the closed door, watching me. His eyes travel slowly down my body, taking in every detail.

Unlike Ryan’s gaze, his doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin.

It makes me want to step closer.

I fold my arms, partly to appear irritated and partly to hide the way my breathing changes.

“You’re staring.”

“Yes.”

“You could at least pretend you weren’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s polite.”

His gaze returns to my face.

“Black suits you.” His voice drops. “Although I preferred you in my shirt.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks.

I hate that he notices.

“I found the drawer.”

“I assumed you would.”

“Those were your shirts.”

“Yes.”

“In the closet filled with my clothing.”

“Yes.”

“Inside your bedroom.”

A hint of amusement touches his mouth. “You appear to have solved the mystery.”

“That wasn’t a mystery. It was a list of increasingly alarming facts.”

He pushes away from the door and approaches me.

His movements are smooth and unhurried, but something about the way he crosses the room reminds me of a predator that already knows its prey has nowhere to go.

I refuse to retreat.

“You slept well?” he asks.

“That isn’t the point.”

“Your headache?”

“Almost gone.”

“Any dizziness?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

His shoulders relax slightly.

The change is subtle, but I see it.

He was worried.

Some of my anger softens before I force myself to remember the bras.

“You moved my plants.”

“They needed sunlight.”

“They had sunlight in my apartment.”

“Your apartment is not safe.”

“You bought me an entire wardrobe.”

“You needed clothes.”

“I needed one outfit.”

His gaze sweeps over me again. “You chose well.”

My cheeks warm.

“That still doesn’t explain why there are enough clothes in your closet for me to live there permanently.”

He says nothing.

My heart skips.

“Theo.”

“Would you prefer another closet?”

“That isn’t what I’m asking.”

“I know.”

Of course he does.

I move toward his desk and place my purse on the corner. “How did you even know my sizes?”

His expression shifts.

Not embarrassment. Theo De Luca might be incapable of experiencing embarrassment.

But there is a flicker of something dangerously close to amusement.

“I read the labels on your clothing.”

“Even my bras?”

“Yes.”

I stare at him.

His mouth curves.

“You could have had a woman do that.”

“I could have.”

“Yet you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I was curious.”

My lips part.

He turns away before I can recover, walking toward the small dining area beside the windows.

I watch the muscles in his back move beneath his shirt.

This man is going to kill me.

Possibly without touching me.

“Being curious doesn’t give you permission to go through my underwear.”

“I didn’t go through it. I packed it.”

“That is not better.”

“I also unpacked it.”

“Definitely not better.”

He pulls out a chair for me.

I remain where I am.

“And then there’s Charger and Dot.”

His expression becomes serious.

“What about them?”

“I don’t need security.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I already have.”

My temper flares. “That is exactly the problem.”

His jaw tightens.

“You sent two strangers to follow me without asking. You moved my belongings. You bought my clothes. You contacted my boss. ”

Something cold enters Theo’s eyes.

“What did Ryan say to you?”

“That is not the point.”

“What did he say?”

The sharpness in his voice makes me pause.

“He asked where I had been. He told me about your email”

“What else?”

I remember Ryan’s gaze moving over my body.

“Nothing important.”

Theo becomes unnaturally still.

For one strange second, his head tilts, as if he is listening to a conversation happening somewhere far beyond the walls.

“Did he touch you?”

“What? No.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, but it doesn’t disappear.

“He was rude,” I say. “I handled it.”

Theo’s eyes flick toward the door.

“Charger was there?”

“Yes, and he opened the door when Ryan’s tone changed.”

“Good.”

“That was not permission for you to have Ryan thrown out a window.”

“I wasn’t planning to throw him.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why do I feel like the rest of that sentence is worse?”

He pulls the chair out farther. “Sit. You need to eat.”

I don’t move.

His eyes lift to mine.

I take a slow breath. “You don’t get to control my life because you rescued me.”

The amusement disappears from his face.

He crosses the distance between us.

I have to tilt my head back as he stops in front of me. He is close enough that I can feel the heat of his body and catch that familiar scent of cedar and smoke.

“I’m not trying to control your life.” His voice is quiet now. “I’m trying to make certain you still have one.”

The words settle between us.

My anger falters.

“Is Kyle really that dangerous?”

“This isn’t only about Kyle.”

A chill moves through me.

“What does that mean?”

“It means there are unforeseen threats I need to assess.”

“What kind of threats?”

“The kind I would prefer you never have to know exist.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you right now.”

I search his face.

There is something he isn’t telling me. Something beneath the careful calm and commanding tone.

Fear.

Not for himself.

For me.

“Why would anyone else want to hurt me?”

His jaw flexes.

“I don’t know that anyone does.”

“But you think it’s possible.”

“I believe in preparation.”

“You believe in private armies.”

“That too.”

A knock sounds at the office door.

Theo turns his head before the second knock lands.

His gaze focuses on the door with that same strange intensity, as though he can see through it.

“Lunch,” he says.

The door opens a moment later, and two catering employees enter with a cart.

I watch them arrange covered dishes across the dining table.

“How did you know it was lunch?”

Theo looks at me. “Who else would it be?”

“Elena. One of your employees. An assassin.”

He pulls my chair out again. “An assassin wouldn’t knock.”

I wait for him to smile.

He doesn’t.

“I can’t tell when you’re joking.”

“You’ll learn.”

The promise hidden inside those two words makes my pulse quicken.

When the catering staff leaves, I finally take the offered seat. Theo sits across from me.

He removes the silver cover from my plate, revealing grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a bowl of soup.

“You ordered for me?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you did.”

“You can order something else.”

“I thought you said I needed to eat.”

“You do.”

“Then this is fine.”

His mouth lifts slightly.

I take a bite of chicken and resist the urge to close my eyes. It is unfairly good.

Theo pours water into my glass before serving himself. Despite insisting that I eat, he barely touches his own food.

Every few minutes, his attention shifts.

His eyes move toward the door.

Then the windows.

Then the wall behind me.

He isn’t merely distracted.

He is listening.

“To what?” I ask.

His gaze snaps back to mine. “What?”

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at things as though they’re speaking to you.”

“I have a great deal on my mind.”

“That sounds suspiciously like something a guilty person says.”

“Are you interrogating me, Ms. Bennett?”

“I’m a journalist. We prefer the term interviewing.”

“You’ve already interviewed me.”

“I didn’t know you owned my newspaper then.”

“Would it have changed your questions?”

“No. But I might have asked why you chose our paper.”

He lifts his glass but doesn’t drink.

“Maybe I liked the reporter.”

My fork pauses halfway to my mouth.

“You didn’t know who would be interviewing you.”

His eyes hold mine.

“Didn’t I?”

Before I can ask what that means, his head turns sharply toward the office door.

This time, I hear faint footsteps outside.

Several seconds later, they pass.

I lower my fork.

“You heard that before I did.”

“My office is quiet.”

“That was Elena walking down the hall.”

“Yes.”

“She hadn’t reached the door yet.”

Theo takes a drink of water.

“You’re very observant.”

“And you’re very good at avoiding questions.”

“I’ve had practice.”

I study him, but his expression reveals nothing.

Whatever secret Theo is hiding, I doubt I’ll uncover it over grilled chicken.

For now, I return to my food.

We fall into an oddly comfortable rhythm. Theo asks about my column, and I tell him I’m struggling to write objectively now that I know he owns the publication printing it.

“Write what you think,” he says.

“What if you don’t like it?”

“That would make it worth reading.”

I smile despite myself.

When I finish the soup, Theo finally begins eating his lunch.

“I need to discuss this evening with you,” he says.

My stomach tightens. “That sounds ominous.”

“I have a business dinner.”

“Congratulations.”

“I would like you to accompany me.”

I blink. “Why?”

“Because I want you there.”

“That isn’t a reason.”

“It is the only reason that matters.”

“I disagree.”

His eyes darken with amusement. “You do that often.”

“Someone needs to.”

“The meeting is being held at a nightclub owned by one of my business rivals.”

I set down my fork.

“A nightclub.”

“Yes.”

“Owned by your rival.”

“Yes.”

“The rival who chose the location for this supposedly professional dinner?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to bring the woman currently requiring two armed guards because of ‘unforeseen threats’?”

“One guard at a time,” he corrects.

“That is not the reassuring distinction you think it is.”

“You’ll be safe with me.”

The certainty in his voice is absolute.

I believe him.

That may be the most dangerous part of all.

“What kind of business meeting happens at a nightclub?”

“The kind involving men who enjoy mistaking noise and expensive alcohol for power.”

“And what would I be doing there?”

“Accompanying me.”

“As what?”

Theo leans back in his chair and studies me.

“My guest.”

The word sends a nervous flutter through my stomach.

“Is this a date?”

“No.”

His answer comes too quickly.

I raise an eyebrow.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

“Unless you would like it to be.”

“No.”

Now my answer comes too quickly.

His smile deepens.

“Then it’s settled.”

“Nothing is settled.”

“I’ll have Charger bring you home after work. Dot will help you prepare.”

“I can dress myself.”

“I’m aware.”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

His gaze lowers over me before returning to my eyes.

“Dress for a club.”

“That is extremely vague.”

“It was intended to be.”

I fold my arms.

“I’m not wearing anything you personally selected.”

“You’re wearing something I selected now.”

I look down at my blouse.

He has me there.

“I selected it from the things you selected,” I say.

“An important distinction.”

“It is.”

Theo stands and circles the table.

My body responds before my thoughts can catch up, every nerve sharpening as he approaches.

He stops beside my chair and leans down, one hand braced against the table. His face is close to mine.

Too close.

Not close enough.

“Wear whatever makes you feel beautiful, Willa.”

His breath brushes my cheek.

“Then why involve Dot?”

“Because what makes you feel beautiful and what makes the room understand you’re untouchable may be two different things.”

My pulse stutters.

“And am I?” I whisper.

His gaze drops to my lips.

“Untouchable?”

The warmth disappears from his expression, replaced by something darker. Possessive. Certain.

“To everyone but me.”

He straightens before I remember how to breathe.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says.

Not a question.

Not an invitation.

A promise.

I should tell him no.

I should return to the newspaper, finish my column, and make it perfectly clear that Theodore De Luca cannot simply decide where I go, what I wear, or how I spend my evening.

Instead, I look down at the white shirt cuff visible beneath the sleeve of his black dress shirt and wonder what he will wear to the club.

More importantly, I wonder what he expects me to wear beside him.

I reach for my purse.

“This still isn’t a date.”

Theo opens the office door for me.

His smile is devastating.

“Of course not.”