Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,34

make out the words on the check. “So it was an award you got?”

“It was,” she said. “It’s called the Turner Venture Capitalist Award and I was the first woman who’d ever won. That’s the night of the pitch competition. You basically go through these huge rounds of cuts for two months until the final ten are chosen. I presented my three-minute plan for Wild Heart in front of two hundred and fifty venture capitalists in Silicon Valley.”

I picked up the framed photo—her smile was electric. She was standing with two people I assumed were her parents—she looked just like them.

“That must have been an incredible amount of work,” I said.

“Hard work and a massive amount of luck,” she said. “That and the right connections, which took a while for Wild Heart to develop. That’s initially why I went all out on my role as spokeswoman, putting my entire life all over social media. Connections happen person-to-person, and after a few years, the right people started following me.”

“That’s how you got the money?”

“The start-up capital, yes,” she said. “The first five years sucked. It was basically fundraising twenty-four/seven on a shoestring budget. As you’re well aware.”

I shifted in my chair. “I’m terrible at it. Believe me.”

Luna tilted her head, long hair sliding off her shoulders. “That’s not what I see.”

I handed the picture back to her, unsure of what to do with the compliment.

“I was a very arrogant twenty-two-year-old,” she said. “I told everyone around me who would listen that I had everything figured out. Luckily I had a board and a bunch of mentors in the business community that steered me in the right direction. No major issues. Well, I mean… until recently.”

Her cheeks flushed a little as she put the photo back. But then she spun around with exaggerated movements and held out that envelope I’d seen in the picture she’d texted.

“Ta-da.”

“Um, thanks,” I said, taking it from her and sliding it open. There it was. A check for ten thousand dollars.

I was glad to be sitting down.

“For me?”

“For Lucky Dog,” she said. “Plus we’re closing in on fifteen grand in online donations already.”

“But it’s only been a week,” I said, almost angry. The world of easy money Luna seemed to wade in and out of boggled my mind. Ta-da—ten thousand dollars.

But who was I kidding? The chair I was sitting in probably cost more than my rent.

“Come look,” she said, waving me over. “I want to make sure the posts fit the vibe you were going for.” I stood over her shoulder, trying not to crowd her space. But still I caught the scent of citrus and sunscreen. Literal fucking sunshine is what Luna da Rosa smelled like. She pulled her hair to one side, exposing the side of her throat to me.

“See?” she said. “People are responding to them pretty well.” Her photos of Lucky Dog were happy—motivational, not shameful. Like I’d said I wanted. The picture of her and Jem had a smile spreading across my face. “Not too manipulative, right?”

“No,” I said, surprised.

She tapped her temple. “Told you I’m good at this.”

She pressed the check more firmly into my hand and a surge of ugly pride rose in me.

“Beck,” she said, guiding my attention back. “It’s not wrong to receive this. No one’s using you and no one pities you. It’s because you’re doing great work and people don’t want to see Lucky Dog close.”

I took a step back. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said.

“How’d you know?”

“Game recognizes game.” Luna grinned. “Although I think you’re more stubborn than me, but we both like to carve our own path, even if that means clumsily hacking our way through life.”

“I don’t like owing people,” I said.

“You don’t owe me a thing,” she said firmly. “The bigger picture here is rescuing more dogs.”

And your reputation, I almost said. Although that element of distrust was slowly fading away the more time I spent with her.

I looked back at the photos she was showing me. She placed the phone in my palm so I could scroll, read the comments. The panel of images showed Luna’s private moments on a public stage. There she was with friends, dancing, drinking, diving into the ocean or bending into a complicated yoga pose. She was making salads and chatting in videos and conducting board meetings.

Luna was out there in a way that made me terrified just thinking about it.

The comments on the picture she tapped on were positive in the beginning—seems like