Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,35
there were people who had always supported Lucky Dog. I’d had no idea. When you were a young nonprofit, it was easy to feel invisible.
Ugly bitch—that was comment #476. I pointed to it.
“Ignore it,” she said.
“I want to know where this man lives,” I said.
Her eyes met mine. “Oh. That’s super nice of you but it’s really fine. He’s a troll. He’s trash. I don’t know where he lives because their anonymity makes them feel brave when they’re not,” she said.
Grumbling beneath my breath, I kept scrolling. Beneath that, a sentence that jarred me: How do we know the money goes to dogs and not Beck Mason’s shady motorcycle club?
She snatched the phone from me. “And ignore that too.”
“Are you getting comments about the Miami Devils?” I asked, anger rising. “Because you know I have absolutely nothing to do with them anymore. They can’t touch Lucky Dog. I’d never let them.”
Luna fiddled with that tiny braid again. “I’ve gotten… a few comments about the MC. Nothing major. It’s people trying to stir things up because they like drama.”
Was my past going to continue to stomp all over my present and destroy my future? Because I was pretty damn sure the Devils would love to set fire to any bit of happiness I might try to hold on to.
And if anything got in their way—say, a beautiful woman and her successful company—I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to watch that burn too.
“Luna?” We both turned—one of her staff had a giant glass filled with green juice. “I made this for you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Can you bring an extra straw? I think Mr. Mason would love some.” She glanced at the giant watch on her wrist. “And we officially have four minutes until my next meeting. You should have a little green juice. You look stressed.”
I sat back down—putting me eye-level with Luna, who was still propped against her desk. I turned behind me, made sure that Jasmine woman wasn’t lurking around us.
“Luna,” I started. Hesitated.
“What is it?”
“You’ve already done so much for us,” I started. “But if you really are focused on fixing all this shit…” I hesitated for a moment, “… maybe you shouldn’t work with a person whose family is notorious for violence and drugs in South Beach.”
She turned her head, staring at an old picture near her computer. “No thanks. I’m sticking with you. Now try this.”
I gave her my scariest look.
She returned it with her sweetest smile. “I don’t care about your past.”
I knew she was trying to get off easy with that bewitching grin. “You do though. Or at least you did. There’s no way a billionaire with a fucked-up reputation meets me and doesn’t consider running away.”
Luna lifted her chin, tapping her sandal beneath her skirt. A long few seconds ticked by before she finally said, “I didn’t want to work with Lucky Dog at first because of who you were. The complication. You’re right, that is true. And technically my PR director is having several aneurysms a day over comments like the one you just saw.” She worried at her bottom lip. “Sometimes I have given into those same thoughts.”
I was silent. It looked like a battle was going on behind her eyes.
But still.
“You think I’m trash.” I didn’t phrase it as a question.
Luna looked immediately offended. “Never,” she said firmly. “I have never, ever thought that. Your family though? I think they’re utterly vile.”
“They are vile,” I said. “We can agree on that.”
She released her braid, clutching the edge of her desk. She glanced back at that photo one more time. “I’m trying out this new thing where I match my internal and external values. Doing what I say I’m going to do because it’s right and not necessarily safe or easy. For better or worse, you’re stuck with me basically until the end of time, Beck Mason. When we’re both ninety, I’ll still be begging you to take a selfie with me.”
I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Maybe the beard would hide it.
“And for what it’s worth, you’re doing incredible work at Lucky Dog. You deserve that money.”
A better man would have walked out the door and ended our partnership before Rip and Georgie Mason stole away this situation.
A smarter man would have been wary of a wealthy woman who’d never known the inside of a jail cell or the pinch of not enough.