Page 85 of Luna
I haven’t had any time to sit down and talk to him or even to my guys. All we’ve had time for is planning my half-brother’s demise.
We leave in the morning to head to Miami, and Lark and her men are letting us use their jet. It’ll be the easiest way to get there under my brother’s radar. It won’t be odd for the head of the Ferraro family to fly into Miami.
Even if it was something he’d usually wonder about, we’re counting on Fabian being too distracted to notice.
I’m exhausted. It feels like I’ve gotten no sleep over the last few days. All I want to do is crash out and sleep until we leave, but there’s no way I’m going into this situation with so much left unsaid.
I decide to seek out Christian first. Not because he’s more important to me, but because it’s just him. The other conversation I have to have will involve the rest of the men.
This conversation won’t be easy, but it’ll be easier in the sense that there are fewer people to deal with.
I knock on the door of the room Christian has claimed for himself.
The door swings open, Christian’s eyes going wide as his nose flares. “Luna?”
“Hey, Chris. I was hoping we could talk?”
“Talk? Uh…” He steps back, gesturing for me to come in. “Of course. Door open or closed?”
“Closed, please,” I call over my shoulder as I walk toward the bed. There isn’t really anywhere else to sit, and there’s no way I want to be on my feet for this conversation.
No, I want to be as comfortable as humanly possible.
Which is why I climb into the bed, wrapping the sheets and comforter around myself, sucking in Christian’s sage and sandalwood scent.
It immediately calms my racing thoughts, my body recognizing it for what it is—the scent of home.
“So, umm… What did you want to talk about?” Christian leans against the closed door, and I bite back a smile.
I pat the bed beside me. “I’m not having this conversation from across the room. Come sit. I don’t bite.”
Usually.
Bad Luna. Focus.
He hesitates for a moment before hesitantly joining me. His back is stiff as he settles against the headboard across from me.
“Don’t be so scared,” I admonish. “You had to know this was coming.”
He clears his throat, his head bobbing. “Of course, but I thought it might be after we killed your brother.”
“We’ve waited long enough, Christian. Thirteen years too long.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. The closenesswe once shared is no longer there, and I hate it. “You don’t remember me, and you probably never will.”
His face falls. “I’m sorry.”
I wave him off. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault you can’t remember. Look, I’m going to be brutally honest with you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you, Christian—no matter how hard I tried to forget you—and I never stopped loving you. I know I come with complications in the form of a scent-matched pack—who I’ll be talking to after you—but I need to know if we have a chance.”
“I understand if we don’t,” I rush on before he can speak. “And this is completely your choice. I just need to know where we stand and where you see this going.”
“I don’t know.” He looks crestfallen. “No, that’s not true. I’m not the man you once knew, and I don’t remember you. But I feel drawn to you. I don’t know what the future holds, but I can’t see one without you there.”
My breath whooshes out of me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “We can get to know one another as the people we are now. We can take it slowly.”
I wince at the sting of hurt his words cause me. “And what if I don’t want to take it slow?”
I bite my lip, barely believing I blurted that out. That was a thought that should’ve remained insidemy head.
